Moon, Elizabeth - Vatta 2 - Marque and Reprisal_v5.txt

by Marque

  “Um. I’ll download additional course work for you, for when we’re enroute. No sense in having you lose more educational time than necessary.” Ky turned to Rafe, who was watching this with a condescending expression. “Now you, sir. Your last name, if I may be so bold . . .”

  “Of course, Captain,” he said, leaning forward, meeting her eye, and putting on what Ky assessed as a pseudo-honest expression. “Though you may as well know that I have several last names, by which I’m known on different worlds. I was born with Dunbarger, but haven’t used it for years. Stella first met me as Rafael Stoner Madestan.”

  “Dunbarger!” Stella said.

  “I said I haven’t used it for a long time,” Rafe said. “It’s not . . . euphonious. It is, however, my birth name if anyone were to track it down.”

  “Dunbarger . . . ,” Ky said. Where had she heard that name before? Somewhere that had meaning to this whole situation?

  “ThatDunbarger,” Rafe said. “The one you’re so obviously trying to remember. ISC senior officer. Very senior, at the moment.”

  Into Ky’s mind popped the memory of ISC’s command structure: Dunbarger stood right at the top.

  “You might consider me a remittance man,” Rafe said. “If you know what that is.”

  “You’re Garston Dunbarger’s son?” Stella said. “You?”

  “I had to learn company manners somewhere,” Rafe said. “The knowledge of which fork to use and how to tie a cravat is easiest learned in the kind of home my . . . parents . . . kept.” He kept his gaze on Ky, nonetheless.

  “Very interesting, if true,” Ky said.

  “Oh, it’s true. I can even prove it, though I would prefer not to call down the kind of trouble that would bring on Lastway. At any rate, I was sent away, for cause I might add—no bad feelings on my side—and strongly encouraged to choose another name, or fifty. And later—here’s another new tidbit for you, Stella—later I was hired back, as it were, after a bit of good behavior, which somewhat softened my father’s attitude.”

  “Hired back how?” Ky asked.

  Rafe’s gaze dropped to his fingernails, which he appeared to study with great interest. “There are things that a supposedly disaffected, disinherited former member of a powerful family can find out—can elicit—that almost no one else can. If you know where both ends of the string are, as it were, untangling the mess someone’s made of it is far easier. By birth I know one end . . . by experience I discover the other.”

  “You’re a company spy,” Ky said.

  He gave her a straight look and shrugged. “That’s a bald word for a very . . . fluffy . . . concept. Let’s just say that I have been put in the way of finding out things ISC needs to know and have been well paid to transfer that knowledge to ISC. I’m still not welcome at home, but relations are, as it were, softening with time. None of my sisters has produced an heir, and Father would like a grandchild—well, actually it’s Mother who wants one worst, I suspect, but Father is putty in her hands.”

  “You—you!” Stella sputtered, clearly outraged about something. Ky looked at her. “You contemptible toad!”

  “Now, Stella, sweetling, no need to blow a jet.”

  “Don’t sweetling me, you—you—” She turned to Ky. “This . . . this miserable excuse spent two whole days lecturing me on the evils of my past, my luxurious and pampered past, convincing me that I was to blame for the inequalities of the universe because I’d never questioned where Vatta money came from, and all that time—”

  “How do you suppose I knew what leverage would work, my dear?” Rafe asked coolly. “It takes one to know one; I knew what would sting me, and thus that it would sting you. And besides, you are so sweet when you feel guilty. As opposed to the way you are when you don’t.” He held up a finger. “And don’t say you’ll hate me forever, because you know you won’t.”

  Toby, Ky noticed, was watching this with eyes wide.

  “I still don’t have a last name,” she said to Rafe. “Not the one on your current ID, at least.”

  “Oh. Yes.” For an instant, a patch of color appeared on his cheeks. He fished out the ID packet and handed it over. “It’s fake, of course, and only of moderate quality. I had it done in a rush before we left, to throw off pursuit, we hoped. Stella’s is fake, too, at the moment. It seems to have worked.”

  “Ralph San Volan,” Ky said, reading it off.

  Rafe shrugged. “I was using Murchison back on Allray, and running a shop selling antiquities and books.”

  “And other things,” Stella put in. Ky could tell that she was still furious.

  “And other things as necessary to keep my lines of contact open with the kinds of people ordinary ISC personnel cannot know,” Rafe said, glancing at Stella and then back to Ky. “You must realize that those people do not trust straight arrows.”

  “I know that,” Ky said.

  “Good. Because if I’m to be any use to you, I need to establish my lines of communication here.”

  Ky ignored the presumption in that for the moment. She wasn’t sure she wanted him to try to be of use to her. “You’ve been here before?”

  “Oh, yes. Some years back.”

  “Just as a matter of curiosity, when does your partnership contract with Stella and Toby expire?”

  “Um . . . not too long now, I think,” Rafe said.

  Ky let her teeth show. “I suspect you know to the minute, Rafe. Let’s not play games.”

  “But games are such fun. All right, in about twenty-three hours. Why? Are you going to ask me to extend?”

  “I’m thinking about it. It seems to me that Vatta and ISC interests run together lately.”

  “They may do. But my interests intersect ISC’s only in particular areas. Perhaps we should both think about it.”

  “And discuss it in, say, four hours?” Ky said.

  “As the captain wishes,” he said, all courtliness. Whoever he really was, someone had taught him manners, and more than one kind. Ky looked again at his gray hair. “How old are you really?”

  “You want all my realities revealed?” he asked. “Very well—” And he scrubbed at his face with his hands. When he brought them down, a much younger man grinned at her, his face subtly reshaped, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “The hair’s not this gray or this thin, either, but I’d prefer to deal with that in a proper bathroom, if this ship has a proper bathroom. I’m only a year older than Stella in true biological time, but I’m much, much older in experience.”

  Ky caught a movement of Stella’s hands, and glanced over to find the perfect cheekbones restored to the breathtaking beauty she remembered. Stella opened her hand. “Cheekpads,” she said. “And my hair’s not really this color. Rafe’s got black hair, if you want to know.”

  Ky looked at Toby, who shook his head. “Rafe wouldn’t let me,” he said. “He says as fast as I’m growing, I’m not the same two days in a row anyway.”

  “That’s a relief,” Ky said.

  CHAPTER

  TWELVE

  Wait here,” Ky said, “while I get Toby settled, and see about finding you berths—I presume you’d rather stay aboard than onstation?”

  “I would,” Stella said.

  “Even though a Vatta ship was blown up in dock at Allray?” Rafe said.

  “Even though,” Stella said.

  “I will do as the captain prefers,” Rafe said, tilting his head at Ky, and leaving for now hanging between them, unsaid.

  “Fine, then,” Ky said. “I’ll be back shortly. Come on, Toby.”

  Toby followed her out of the rec area to Engineering; Martin trailed along. “I need to get back to dockside, Captain, if that’s all right.”

  “That’s fine, Martin, go ahead.” He nodded and turned away. Ky walked on, wondering what she could say to comfort a boy who had lost his family and shipmates. Damned little comfort in the universe, but that wasn’t what he needed to hear. On the other hand, maybe he didn’t need comfort as much as something to do. Ky said, “
Stella says you’re also in this partnership?”

  “Yes, ma’am—Captain.”

  “What do you think of Rafe?”

  “Me? I’m just—”

  “Old enough to be a partner, Toby. That’s old enough to assess the character of a partner, by law. What do you think of him?”

  “I don’t exactly know. He’s—he knows a lot of things I think are probably bad things, but he’s been a good partner so far.”

  “Does Stella trust him?”

  “In partnership yes, but not before. She had me hold a weapon on him, before they—we—formed the partnership, when she was showing him what she carried.”

  Ky turned and looked at him. “Trusts you, doesn’t she? Could you have shot him?”

  “I—I think so.” He looked tense and worried, which was, Ky thought, exactly how he should look when he contemplated the possibility of killing someone.

  “Good,” Ky said. “We’ll try to keep you out of such situations in the future, but just in case, I’m glad to know you’re that reliable.”

  He said nothing, and she led him on into Engineering, where Quincy was leaning over Jim at one of the work spaces; Puddles lay at his feet, chewing vigorously on his leash. Quincy looked up. “Who’s this, then?”

  “Toby Vatta,” Ky said. “Survivor of the attack on Ellis Fabery at Allray. News was wrong—they weren’t all killed.”

  “How’d he—”

  “My cousin Stella brought him,” Ky said, and cut off further questions with a warning glance. “Toby, this is Quincy Robins, one of the most senior engineers in Vatta, and from this point on your tutor. Quince, Toby was more than halfway through his apprentice voyage, and he says his instructors thought he had an aptitude for drives. Since I have no idea when we can get him home, we need to set up a complete educational course for him, find him bunk space, and get him fitted out with whatever he needs. Can you see to that? Order in whatever you need. I have some other urgent business.”

  “Of course,” Quincy said. “Toby, is it? You’re in a growing stage, aren’t you? I recognize the signs.”

  Toby nodded. “Is that a . . . a dog?”

  “It’s a nuisance,” Quincy said. “Jim’s idea.” She glared at Ky.

  “It’s a puppy,” Ky said. “Do you know anything about dogs?”

  “I had a dog back home,” Toby said. “Before I left for ship duty. She was a mazehound. She didn’t look anything like that, even when she was born.” Ky had no idea what a mazehound was, but for the first time thought there might be a purpose in having a puppy aboard.

  “This one’s supposed to be a Jack Russell terrier,” Ky said. “Whatever that is. His name’s Puddles.”

  “We’ll need to stock extra rations, Captain,” Quincy said. “Boys this age eat like a regiment.”

  “I’ll put it on the list,” Ky said. Quincy seemed to glow with a sudden burst of grandmotherliness, which was just what the boy needed, Ky felt sure. “Jim, come along with me.” Jim’s face took on a worried expression, but he got up quickly and followed her back to the rec room.

  She heard the low murmur of voices, but not what they were saying; Stella and Rafe were both silent when she came in.

  “Toby’s getting settled,” she said. “This is Jim, one of my crew, late of Belinta.”

  “Belinta!” Rafe said in the tone of that mudball .

  “What’s wrong with Belinta?” asked Jim, scowling.

  “You wanted to leave,” Ky pointed out. Then she shook her head at Rafe. “Don’t tease him.”

  Rafe grinned. “Happens to everyone, one time or another. And you got out of Belinta. So, what else are you bringing to the party?”

  “It’s not a party,” Ky said. “I need to talk to my cousin alone, and I don’t want you wandering the ship by yourself. Jim, you’ll stay with Rafe until I come back. And I mean stay with, not just in the same half of the ship.”

  “Oh.” Jim looked at Rafe with sudden suspicion.

  “I am so misunderstood,” Rafe murmured.

  “The misunderstanding, if any, is mutual,” Ky said, trying not to grin. It would not do to let this rascal know he was amusing her.

  “Is it?” he said, but then sobered, and nodded with what might be respect. “Perhaps it is, Captain Vatta. I will be good.”

  “Excellent,” Ky said. “Jim will show you around; if you decide to ship out with us, you’ll know what you’re getting into. Now you’ll excuse us—Stella, come with me, please.” With a final nod she left them, and Stella trailed after her.

  In her own cabin, she gestured Stella to the bunk and sat at the desk herself.

  “You’ve changed,” Stella said.

  “The last time we met I was what, seventeen?”

  “There’s that,” Stella admitted. “But I was worried for you, when I heard about that mess at the Academy. You had always been such a straight arrow.”

  “I’ve wanted to thank you for your note,” Ky said. “It did help, especially since I’d just had a stinker of a letter from Hal—from a man I’d known there.”

  “Men,” Stella said. “And while we’re on that subject, a word of warning about Rafe—”

  “You think I need one?”

  “Every woman needs one with him. I’m sure you feel the magnetism—I certainly do—but he’s not a safe ride.”

  “I could tell,” Ky said. “But let’s get to business, Stella. You say Auntie Grace sent you—”

  Stella sat up straighter. “Yes. Your father tried to call a meeting of the adult Vattas on Slotter Key, after he was hurt—but he collapsed, and Auntie Grace took over. It surprised everyone when she picked me to be her messenger. She knew—well, she’d kind of pushed me into it—that I acted sometimes as a special courier for Vatta. You didn’t know that, I think—”

  “No,” Ky said. “I thought—”

  “You thought I was flighty Stella, still in disgrace. So did a lot of people, which made my other role more effective. When I traveled, people assumed it was just that idiot Stella wandering around being a tourist.” Stella cocked her head to one side and her expression shifted; she looked the picture of an inexperienced pretty girl.

  “Mmm . . .”

  “My father knew, of course. Your father didn’t. That made it awkward sometimes.” Stella had lost the innocent-waif look, and Ky admired the technique. She didn’t seem to move, and yet she changed.

  “I can imagine.” Her own father bragging about his practical, sensible, obedient daughter, while her uncle had to pretend that Stella was still a bubblehead.

  “Anyway. Auntie Grace downloaded the Vatta command dataset to her own implant. She doesn’t think any of the surviving Vattas offplanet have it, and she wanted you to have it because of your military training.” Stella paused, and when Ky said nothing went on. “Ky, how bad was your head injury? If you’re going to be in command out here, we need to know if you’re capable—”

  “I’m capable,” Ky said, and hoped it was true. “Stella, the things that I’ve done after that indicate that I’m functioning just fine. It was bad . . . they had to do a memory dump off my implant.”

  Stella paled. “A memory dump—who did that?”

  “Mackensee—a mercenary company. Quite respectable; they’re in the green book. Vatta’s transported them or their cargo more than once. It was an accident, really.” Quickly, Ky gave Stella the bare-bones account of the incident, ending with “And then I woke up, in their sick bay, and all the interesting stuff happened later. So if I could cope with mutinous prisoners and an uncontrollable ship and near starvation, I think that means my brain is working. Right?”

  Stella was still pale. “Right,” she said. “I don’t quite understand why you can’t install another implant, though.”

  “Their surgeons said I should wait six months to be sure the memory dump and the structural repairs were consolidated and stable. I don’t know the details, but I’d had those years of training without an implant at the Academy, aimed at preparing for
just such an emergency. It doesn’t bother me to be without one.”

  “I don’t know if the Vatta situation can wait another—what is it, three months more?”

  “Less than that by now, I think. But I don’t see why that matters. Unless the command dataset explains who our enemy is and what’s going on, and if it does, our fathers would have been prepared. I don’t need an implant to fight a war.”

  Stella shivered. “A war . . . that’s what Aunt Gracie said. It’s war now, she said, and we need someone with military training to take over. Meaning you.” She shook her head. “I still think you need an implant . . . wait a minute. You already thought of it as a war? And yourself as fighting it? Without any resources but what you have here?”

  Ky shrugged. “Not many options, are there? What was I going to do, run away and hide somewhere? I was sure other Vattas had survived somewhere; we’d need to get together somehow.”

  “I suppose . . . I just didn’t expect you to have worked all that out. Well, then, general—or admiral, or whatever you are—what do we do now?”

  Ky was ready for this one. “I find out what you’ve brought besides the dataset, and I see if the dataset can be accessed without an implant. I doubt it has anything really useful to me at this point, but it might. I find out what Rafe’s up to—because I’m sure it’s more than he’s said—and decide whether to take him with us, let him go, or kill him.”

  “You’d kill Rafe ?”

  “If I judged him a danger to the family, of course,” Ky said. She enjoyed the shock on Stella’s face. “It is a war, Stella. We’re already in trouble, already losing, if you look at the numbers. We can’t afford to let anyone, however charming, cause us more damage.”

  “Now that’s sensible.” Rafe was at the cabin door, with Jim behind him looking worried. “Captain, you were right—I did underestimate you.”

  “And I clearly underestimated you, thinking that Jim could keep you away from my cabin—” She kicked herself mentally for not having closed and locked it.

  “We were on our way to the bridge. I merely overheard one sentence of extremely good sense, nothing more, I assure you.” Rafe gave them both a smile of blinding goodwill. “Stella, you are a genius in your way, but your cousin Ky has won my fickle heart . . .”