“Hull’s sound,” Quincy said. “Nothing wrong with the insystem drive that a load of fuel won’t fix.”
Ky cocked an eye at her. “You think I should do this, then?”
“I think you’ll do what you think you should, whatever I say,” Quincy said. “Which is as it should be. All I’m doing is giving engineering data.”
“Umph.”
“Though if you asked my advice—”
“About what?”
“See, that’s what I meant. You make up your own mind. If you asked my advice about what to do, I meant.”
“You would say what?” Ky persisted.
“I would say nothing,” Quincy said. “I would say it’s your career, and your decision.”
Ky looked at her, trying to read her face.
“Seriously. You’re young, yes, but this trip would mature anyone who survived it. I can guess what you might choose to do, but it’s only a guess. You’ll have to figure out what works for you. If it’s any help, I think you’ve done well.”
“Gary . . . ,” Ky said, between her teeth.
“Wanted you to save the ship, and you did. You didn’t waste his courage, Captain. I haven’t criticized you for it, and I never will.”
“But you knew him—you were his friend for years.” She could not ask directly, but she could not help asking indirectly, and scolded herself for that even as she asked.
“For years, yes. We were friends. I miss him. I’ve cried, and I’ll cry again. I don’t blame you. I said that before.”
“Yes. You did.” Ky took a deep breath, banishing the lump in her throat that threatened to bring on her own tears. “Well. We’ll talk later, Quincy. I’d better get ready for Colonel Kalin.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Colonel Kalin was prompt, as she’d expected. In person he looked as tough and competent as he had over the comscreen.
“Well, Captain Vatta,” he said, extending his hand. She shook it; it was hard, callused. “I’m glad to meet you at last.”
“Welcome aboard, Colonel,” she said.
“Is there a secure area?” he asked.
“Not really; we can talk in the recreation area with the doors shut, or my cabin—though it’s quite small—or the bridge.”
“I see. The recreation area, then. I presume it’s monitored?”
“Of course. But merchants no more than the military want their affairs talked about. We have some screening capability.”
“You will not mind if I add mine . . . ?” It was just barely a question.
“Not at all,” Ky said. She led the way to the rec area, and spoke into the intercom. “Bridge, this is the captain. I’ll be in conference in the rec room, with screens on. Use a visual flash if we have a situation develop.” She pulled out a chair at one of the tables. “Have a seat, Colonel.”
“Thanks,” he said, sitting down. She sat across from him as he glanced around. “Pardon me for being blunt, but we have a lot to talk about, and we’re both busy professionals.”
Ky nodded.
“I understand you’ve spoken to ISC about the ansible attack; they said you’ve told them we said we weren’t involved. And I’ve seen what you sent by beacon-flash as well. But is there anything, any detail, you haven’t included? We’ve had to post a hefty bond with ISC until they clear us for that action, and the sooner we settle that the better.”
“Nothing but the recording of Paison’s crewman talking to me,” Ky said.
“And you jettisoned his body?”
“Yes. No cold storage,” Ky said. Except in with their food, which she didn’t think needed saying.
“I wondered if that was why. Did you beacon it?”
“No, the only spare beacon we had aboard was put on our cargo.”
“Ah. We’re going to have to try to find it, because from what you and his com tech say, some of his contact information was on his person. Can you give us an approximate location?”
“Only with difficulty. We have the elapsed time, of course, but Paison tried to do a complete wipe of our system, so most of the data are suspect. We haven’t had time to do a purge and reset, though, so it might be retrievable.”
“Just not believable. Oh, well. The next thing is this contract between us. I hope you believe me when I say that we did not foresee any of the difficulties . . .”
“I didn’t think so . . . ,” Ky said.
“No. We said ten days, and expected to be back for the passengers in seven, actually. Usually that’s plenty of leeway. But when our techs couldn’t get even the backup ansible working, we knew we had to jump outsystem to get to ISC before they got to us. Again, we thought we would be right back in the system, but ISC wouldn’t pass us out of Tangier, and insisted that another commander be appointed. That’s when I came aboard this operation.”
“You were trying to work on the ansible platforms? I thought only ISC could—”
“We have techs who can restart backup systems,” the Colonel said, rapidly and not looking at her. “And yes, ISC knows about it.” She wondered anyway. “At any rate, we did not expect to be delayed coming back into Sabine system, and we were quite concerned—and expressed our concerns to ISC—that you would be running short of supplies. May I ask when you began rationing?”
“As soon as we’d cleared off the counters of the food we had no storage for,” Ky said. “My—I’d been told one time that it was always wise to have a few days’ reserve, so I calculated for twelve days, not ten. That wasn’t bad. Then, when you left the system, I cut back again, trying for the maximum survival with what we had. I had to keep crew rations up so they could do their work . . .”
“That must have been tough,” the Colonel said again. “But I’m also impressed. You’ll pardon me for saying what you know, that you’re quite young to be captain, and I would not have expected a civilian captain with so little experience to be that decisive. Your company must provide excellent training.”
“Actually, I learned that at the Slotter Key Space Academy,” Ky said. Surely he knew that already. Major Harris knew; Harris must have told him. “Before I was kicked out,” she added.
“Um, yes, Major Harris said something about that. Typical cadet trouble, he said.” Colonel Kalin shook his head. “You would be surprised how many good young’uns have something like that in their pasts. Now—I’d like to hear some details about this mutiny. We had no idea that Captain Paison was going to cause trouble.”
Ky wanted some details of the money she’d be getting, but this wasn’t the time to bring that up. Instead, she began a concise summary of the mutiny, starting with her realization that the passengers’ location in the cargo compartments gave them potential access to the control systems. When she came to the confrontation, the scene was as vivid in her mind as it had been since. She struggled to keep her voice level and her hands still.
“So Gary said ‘Don’t let them—’ and I shot Paison, and his mate cut Gary’s throat—”
“Why did you shoot Paison first?” Kalin asked. He sounded like one of her instructors at the Academy taking her back through a tactical problem.
“I didn’t have a good shot at the mate—the way he was holding Gary—and Paison was the leader. I thought maybe, if I got him—” Ky shook her head. “It was so fast—”
“You did the right thing,” Kalin said. “But again—it’s surprising. I’d have to credit your military training. Then what?”
“The mate’s arm sagged as Gary died, giving me a target. I shot him, but not fatally. He charged; I fired again, and that time got him in the throat. I thought that would end it—the others behind them were too stunned by the blood, I think. But Kristoffson came at me; my junior engineer and I fired together, and he went down. Then I told them to sit down, and they obeyed me, and—” And then had come the reaction, the surge of nausea, the grief, the need to keep going anyway, keep the control she had regained, save her ship . . . Again she fought back the lump that had appeared in her throat.
/> Kalin waited a moment before saying anything. Then he said, “If you don’t mind my asking, what was your class standing before that?”
Ky looked up, surprised. “The Academy didn’t release numerical standings prior to graduation,” she said. “But I was in the honor corps.” It still hurt, she found, but the tears were easier to control now.
“I don’t find that surprising,” the Colonel said. “You know, you reacted much more like a military officer than a civilian ship’s captain. It was a creditable performance, Captain Vatta, a very creditable performance. If you were a junior officer in my command, I’d be putting you in for a citation.”
Ky choked back the “Really?” that wanted to come out in a schoolgirlish squeak. “Thank you, Colonel,” she said in what was almost a normal voice. She could not help the internal warmth that she hoped didn’t show in her face.
“Now—we have some financial business to conduct. I have the amended contract with me—I understand Major Harris has gone over the provisions with you?”
“Yes, he has,” Ky said.
“I understand that your company’s legal staff has vetted part of it—the per diem for extra time and a bonus for inconvenience, delay, damage—but since at that time no one knew about the mutiny, we did not include any settlement for the death of a crewmember and so on. If you feel you need to wait until Vatta’s legal staff has approved this additional settlement, ISC tells us the communications ansible should be up for limited service in a day or so. Or, we can deposit the amount agreed on by your company’s lawyers now, and defer the rest until that part of the contract is approved. It’s your call, Captain.”
If she waited for approval, what would the company lawyers say? More important, what would her father say? What if he ordered her, in his position as CFO of Vatta Transport, to turn over her cargo to Furman? She was not going to do that. She was absolutely not, not going to do that.
“You’re right that it’s complicated,” she said slowly. “My contract with Belinta, to deliver the cargo that was aboard when your people boarded us, was a personal contract, not a Vatta Transport contract—within my discretion, but not committing the company to it. The company would honor it, had I been unable to fulfill it, but that’s not the case. However, this ship is presently owned by Vatta Transport, and her crew—barring those I picked up here on Sabine Prime—are employees of Vatta Transport. So that portion of the settlement which pertains to the death of a crewman must reference Vatta Transport, Ltd. I can, as a Vatta captain, make a valid contract in the name of the firm—including a death settlement—but that is in a different category from contracts for carriage.” She paused. “I feel that the contract should cite a specific amount as death settlement for Gary Tobai—that is the part of the contract which must be with Vatta Transport, Ltd., rather than with me.”
“It doesn’t now, but it could,” Colonel Kalin said. “I presume you would then want a separate transfer for that amount?”
“Yes. It would make clear to the company that I consider the rest of the contract a personal one.”
“Let’s talk to Major Harris,” the Colonel said. His eyes glazed slightly—his implant, of course. Ky wondered how much he depended on it in combat situations. His gaze returned to her. “He says that makes sense; he suggests one hundred thousand credits as the amount, and says a handwritten emendation, initialed by both of us, will be adequate.”
That was about right, Ky knew. On Slotter Key, the standard scale of compensation for unintended death was graduated by age and expertise, but 100,000 covered most cases. “That will do,” she said, mentally subtracting 100,000 from the total payment. It still left enough for the repairs she needed. She took the hardcopy of the contract, flipped through the pages, and wrote in the margin an addendum specifying 100,000 credits compensation for the death of crewman Gary Tobai, signed it, and slid it across to Kalin for his initials.
“Send that to Captain Furman,” she said. “He is the senior Vatta captain here, and he will be best suited to receive funds due the company. I’ve already sent Major Harris the account information for my part.”
Kalin cocked his head at her. “Captain, I begin to believe you are devious as well as competent. It almost sounds as if you’re about to leave Vatta Transport . . .”
“No,” Ky said. But her voice carried little conviction. She hadn’t had time to think about it, and yet . . . Vatta offered her security, security and ease—as long as she stayed in the narrow lanes they advised.
Kalin leaned back. “You know, Captain, with your background—and considering your performance—you might be better suited for something other than a glorified truck driver.”
“I seem to be suited for getting into trouble,” Ky said, looking down at her hands.
“Exactly.” Kalin nodded. “You get into trouble, but then you get out of it—you survive, and you even prosper. You’re not cut out for boring monotony. Just being thrown out of one military academy doesn’t preclude going into the military, you know. We might even hire you.” He grinned at her.
“Hire me?” Her gaze came back to him; her heart pounded. She could feel the heat in her face. “Why would you hire me?”
“Let’s see . . .” He ticked off points on his fingers. “One of my senior NCOs said you handled the boarding well; she wasn’t surprised to find out you had a military background. You didn’t panic when you woke up in a military sick bay—and yes, though you had meds in your system, I’ve seen people panic with those same meds onboard. You accepted the challenge of carrying an overload of passengers, and you coped with every emergency they supplied, including a mutiny. You can make quick decisions—and more important, the right quick decisions. You aren’t squeamish. And you can kill at need.”
And enjoy it came the response she did not want to reveal. For one moment she imagined herself in a Mackensee uniform, commanding a real unit . . . working up to command a real ship, a warship.
“I have a cargo to deliver,” she said, trying to push that vision aside. “I promised them.”
“Then you have to do what you promised,” he said. He said it the way she felt about it, as much a fact as 9 x 3 = 27. “But think about it, Captain Vatta. If you ever change your mind and want to apply, get in touch with me.” His gaze unfocused again, then refocused on her. “There. I’ve instructed Major Harris to make the transfers. That should be complete in a few minutes. I know you’ll be busy working on repairs, but you’ll be welcome aboard my ship, if you care to visit while we’re here. Just call over and we’ll set up a time. The officers usually meet for a half hour about 1800, before dinner.”
Go aboard a warship again? She wanted to, and she was afraid that her desire showed in her expression. “Thank you,” she said. “It will depend on how the repairs go . . .”
“Of course. It’s been a pleasure, Captain Vatta.” His handshake was military-firm; his expression the one she would like to have seen on her father’s face, instead of that worried concern.
When Colonel Kalin left, she still had to face meetings with Sabine Prime officials and Captain Furman’s representative; she didn’t look forward to either.
Sabine Prime had sent a woman with the title of “Second Assistant Secretary to the Department of Foreign Affairs.” Unlike the ISC representative, Gillian Favor was a vivacious young woman who waved her hands a lot when she talked.
“We have several issues, Captain Vatta,” she said. “I suppose you know that we are charged with administering the Universal Commercial Code, so we have to report on your handling of the passengers assigned you by Mackensee and the incidents which resulted in the deaths of . . . er . . .” She looked at a list. “Captain Paison, his mate, Captain Kristoffson, and your two crewmen. Then we also need to know what, if anything, you knew about the plot to blow up the ansibles before you left this station.”
“I knew nothing about it—my first knowledge of the attack came when I tried to make an ansible call and the ready light didn’t come on, and then the
standby light went out.”
“Oh, my. We certainly hadn’t known you were making a call at the time. Do you have the records of that?”
“No,” Ky said. “My communications equipment, including the stored records, was damaged in the mutiny that occurred.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. Well, let’s see. Now, you have some kind of records of the trip, don’t you? The court will want to establish whether or not your agreement with the mercenaries qualified as ‘cooperation under constraint’ or not, and whether the treatment you accorded the passengers was in line with the UCC.”
“Yes, I have those records. Do you need them in hardcopy, or do you have a filedump where I can send them?”
“A filedump will be fine, Captain Vatta. Thank you. And let me just say, I am so impressed. I really admire you—”
“Excuse me?”
Favor’s smile was brighter than ever. “I mean, I always wanted to go out in space and have adventures, but I didn’t know how . . . My family’s always gone into government service. I really admire someone who goes out and does things.”
Ky opened her mouth to say it was nothing much, and adventures weren’t as much fun as they were made out to be, but Favor rattled on.
“I mean, I’ve been to the adventure resorts and things, you know, with mountains and snow and all that, but space . . . it really is different. When I think about you, all alone out there in the empty dark and cold and all and running out of food, it just gives me the shivers. I mean, I know I could never do it.” That finished on a note of near smugness. She was clearly absolving herself of the need to move out of her own comfort zone.
“I suppose not,” Ky said, instead of the half-dozen other things she wanted to say. She hadn’t intended the sharp tone, but Favor stopped rattling and looked at her.
“I suppose you think I’m silly,” Favor said.
“No,” Ky said. “But I didn’t get into this for the adventure.”
“Really? Why did you, then?”
It was a reasonable question. “My family trucks cargo in space ships,” Ky said. “Like yours goes into government service.”
Trading in Danger Page 32
