She felt better for saying it. Across the small cabin, Quincy nodded. “She does get wound up about what she wants to do. I worried about her myself. But her record’s good. It’s not everyone who could’ve gotten us out of that mess with Osman.”
“It’s not everyone who would’ve gotten us into that mess with Osman,” Stella said. “All we had to do was follow the advice of the professionals we hired and go on our way.” Maybe this time Quincy would understand the point she’d tried to make more than once.
“And Osman would still be out there plotting against us,” Quincy said. “That wouldn’t be good.”
“No…but what we have isn’t good, either. Whatever happened to putting Vatta back together again?”
“Do you really think that’s possible, Stella?” Quincy leaned forward. “So much has been lost…all those ships, all those people.”
“I don’t know if it’s possible or not, but it’s what we set out to do. It’s not time to quit on that yet. And she’s got Toby—”
“She’ll take care of Toby,” Quincy said.
“I’m not sure of that,” Stella said. “She’s likely to get him killed, or turn him into another like herself.”
“Are you sure this isn’t more about you than about her?” Quincy asked. “Maybe because Grace sent her your father’s implant and used you like a messenger girl?”
Stella snorted. “Aunt Grace has used me as a messenger—and other things—for years. I’m not jealous of Ky. I didn’t want her father’s implant—or my father’s, for that matter. But Ky isn’t any more suited to run Vatta than I am, if she can’t keep her mind on trade and profit and the family. All this flashy pseudo-military behavior proves it. She’s just like Osman—”
Quincy’s mouth dropped open. “No, she’s not!” she said firmly. “Not at all. Stella, I served with Ky from the time she left Slotter Key. I spent over a year on the same ship with Osman when I was young. She is nothing like that man. She’s honest, she’s kind, she cares about her people—”
Stella blinked at the vehemence of Quincy’s reply. “But Quincy, she’s also reckless and impulsive—”
“That’s not the same thing as dishonest and cruel. For pity’s sake, Stella, the best traders are risk takers to a degree. Risk avoidance is a low-profit strategy. I’ll admit Ky can be bolder, quicker to act, than just about any captain I’ve served under, but in times like these that’s the margin of survival. I was scared witless, I don’t mind admitting, when we tangled with Osman, but I don’t think anyone else could have gotten us through that with so little damage.”
“So you think I’m not qualified?” Stella regretted that the moment it came out of her mouth; even to her it sounded juvenile and whiny.
“No. I think you’re differently qualified.” Quincy sighed, and ran a hand through her thick white hair. “Stella, I’ve served the Vatta family for nigh on seventy years now. The one thing I know about Vattas—and that would include you, whatever you think of yourself—is that you’re full of surprises. Not one of you is predictable, not really. You’re not all the same: some of you obviously qualified for ship duty, some for desk work, and your great-aunt Frances was a research genius who never got her nose out of her lab, according to your father, while her brother Ismail tinkered about for years without amounting to anything practical. But he’s famous among musicians for inventing three new instruments. Strong character, all of you. Your talents are not the same as Ky’s, but you have them.”
“There are good surprises and bad surprises,” Stella said; she knew she was losing but she could not let it go. “Ky’s being irresponsible, at least where the family’s concerned.”
“I don’t think so. Though starting a feud within the family would be, in my opinion.” Quincy’s direct look conveyed a warning. “The family needs you, Stella—you and Ky, both of you. Don’t give up on her.”
Stella tried to tell herself Quincy was too old to understand, perhaps too blinded by having worked with Ky. She couldn’t quite make it convincing; Quincy was known for her earthy wisdom, and Ky had, after all, succeeded so far.
“I’m not giving up on her,” Stella said. One way or another, that was true, and she knew better now than to express her doubts about Ky openly.
Ky wondered where Stella was. If she had resupplied quickly, as Ky suggested, and followed on, she should have appeared in this system about ten days after Ky…should be insystem now. It would take that old ship longer to move in from the downjump radius, but the new FTL drive Ky’d installed at Sabine had cut their jump time considerably. Had something happened to her?
“I doubt they’ll hold her,” Rafe said when she mentioned her concern. “She hasn’t done anything—at worst, they’ll send her off all the sooner, because she’s related to you.”
“Then she should be here. I wish I knew more about that captain she hired.”
“She’ll be fine,” Rafe said, and patted her shoulder.
Ky glared at him. “Do not try to soothe me like a child, Rafe. You know as well as I do that there’s danger, and she doesn’t have any weapons…”
“Those mines,” Rafe said.
“Which she hasn’t a clue how to use,” Ky said.
“You know, she’s not stupid, even if she is beautiful,” Rafe said, hitching a hip onto the table.
“I never said—”
Martin came in with the day’s training report and gave Rafe a dark look. Rafe shrugged. “I’m only trying to calm the captain down, Martin; she’s worried about sweet Stella.”
“With some reason, I’d think,” Martin said. “No word yet, Captain?”
“None.” Ky moved data cubes from one stack to another. “I know she’s upset; that was clear. I can’t blame her; she’s had to trail me around to three different systems, cope with whatever I left behind.”
“It’s not like she’s never traveled,” Rafe said.
“I know that. But it’s different when it’s your ship, when you’re not just a passenger.” She sighed. “I just hope they don’t give her too much trouble on Sallyon.”
“There’s nothing you can do about it even if they do,” Rafe said.
“That’s the problem,” Ky said.
Worrying about Stella was only marginally better than worrying about what was going on back on Slotter Key. She dragged her mind away from both, and onto the dog problem. Should she contact that veterinary clinic onplanet, or not? It was too late to hide the existence of the dog, but she’d insisted that no pictures be posted.
She shrugged and placed the call.
“Eglin Veterinary Clinic, small-animal practice only, canids a specialty. How may we serve you?” The voice-only channel gave scant clues to the speaker, but the high breathy voice suggested young and female.
“This is Captain Vatta; we’re docked at your space station. I need information on reproductive services.”
“Species, please?”
“Canid,” Ky said, crossing mental fingers.
“Oh.” The voice faded, then came back. “You’re the one! You have a dog aboard! Is it for sale? Where did you get it?”
“We rescued a dog at Lastway Station,” Ky said. “It was going to be killed.”
“Killed! They kill dogs?”
“Indeed they do. We intervened. I understand that dogs are a valuable commodity here, but we are not interested in selling the dog. However, it is a male, and I presume gametes are also marketable.”
“You may be unaware of this, Captain Vatta, but we once had plenty of dogs. They were stolen by unscrupulous spacers. That’s why dogs are so valuable here.” The speaker’s tone had shifted quickly from prim to resentful. “We would have to test your dog to see if it’s descended from the dogs that were stolen; in that case, our government would demand its return.”
“Do you know how far away Lastway is?” Ky said. “And they have plenty of dogs; they have no need to steal them.”
“You traveled the distance,” the voice said, “so could someone t
rafficking in dogs.”
“I’m not trafficking in dogs,” Ky said, “despite the outrageous prices offered by your people. The dog is not for sale and never has been.”
“You could be just holding out for a better price.” That was said in tones of deep suspicion.
Ky managed not to say This is ridiculous and held her temper. “All I wanted to ascertain was whether it was possible for you to obtain sperm from this dog, without pain or distress to the animal, and whether it would have any market value. I understand now that it would be far too expensive and complicated, so I’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time.” She closed the connection.
“That was odd,” Rafe said.
“I should’ve checked my implant before I told them we had a dog aboard,” Ky said. “It didn’t occur to me.”
“Think it will give us trouble?”
“It could. Everything else I’ve done and not done has,” Ky said. “Evidently what seems simple and straightforward to me is all wrong.”
_______
“There’s a Vatta icon insystem, Captain,” Hugh said. “But it’s not Stella.”
“Not Stella…who else could it be?” Ky said. She looked at the plot. “One of our bigger ships…damn. It’s that idiot.”
“Which idiot?” Hugh said, grinning.
“That’s Katrine Lamont,” Ky said. “And if I continue to have a bad day, Furman will still be captain.”
“That’s the one who—”
“Gave me all that trouble at Sabine, yes. My very first captain when I was on my apprentice voyage. Doesn’t like me at all.”
“Ah, but does he have the weapons to blow us away?” Rafe asked.
“No, but we can’t use ours,” Ky said. “I wonder what he’s doing over on this side of the sector. He had that really plush route—remember, he was furious at being pulled away to go to Sabine.”
“You didn’t tell your father to send him to the back of beyond?” Rafe said.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Ky said. Rafe rolled his eyes at her; she shook her head. “I wouldn’t. Besides, being almost next door to Nexus isn’t the back of beyond. Cascadia’s had human settlement longer than Slotter Key.”
“Yes, but it may not be as good a route for him, especially if he had established relationships with customers on the old route.”
Ky quickly accessed the information in her father’s implant. Furman had been in the minority as a senior captain who was not by birth or marriage in the Vatta family. He had earned his promotions on his record: he had the second best on-time record in the fleet, and he had made Vatta dominant in his former route, taking business share away from rival shipping firms. All this was good. His personal fitness reports were marred only by the occasional complaint of his rigidity.
Until the Sabine affair. Apparently he’d been unwilling to be pulled off his lucrative route, and then…Ky felt her brows rising as she accessed the classified file that contained what he had said to her father and her father had said to him. Downgraded from triple-plus to one, transferred to the Virnidia–Moscoe–Nexus–Bondeen route…she wondered that he hadn’t quit. Retirement, probably. Or maybe he really was loyal to Vatta. She was amazed at the depth of her father’s wrath.
She could’ve wished for anyone else but Furman.
“He crossed my father,” Ky said. “It was the Sabine thing, but I didn’t start it. He called me a fool, which was probably fair, and my father didn’t like it.”
“No,” Rafe said, “I suppose he didn’t. What do you think will happen now, when you have no father to throw his considerable weight on the scale?”
“I don’t know. Furman doesn’t like me, but he should know by now he can’t control me.”
“He doesn’t know you have a letter of marque, does he?”
“No. But if he knows about Osman, he may think Osman is here because this is Osman’s ship.”
“And he’ll do what?”
“Tell the authorities it’s an outlaw ship, assuming he knows that. Of course, I told them the truth about it. If we could just get the beacon changed I wouldn’t have these problems—”
“And we’d never have caught that outlaw back on Rosvirein,” Martin said. “There are advantages to a bad name.”
Rafe slanted a glance at him. “Indeed there are. I didn’t expect you to make my argument.”
“Enough,” Ky said. The two of them would bicker all day if she didn’t stop it. “What benefit do you think we’ll get out of Furman thinking this is Osman’s ship?”
“I have no idea,” Rafe said. “But anytime you shake the righteous prigs, bits of information fall out of their pockets. We’ll just have to see.”
Katrine Lamont was on a fast approach; as a familiar unarmed ship on a regular schedule, she was granted priority. Ky wished she knew what Furman was saying to Traffic Control and what they were saying to him.
Meanwhile, she had enough to keep busy. Moscoe Confederation’s Ship Registration Commission was sitting on her request to change the ship’s name and beacon ID. They had agreed that her letter of marque gave her the legal right to claim it as a prize and file ownership papers. She had done that, and they had processed the change in ownership in just a few days, only insisting that it must be registered to her, and not to Vatta Transport. A corporation could not hold a letter of marque, and a prize was the property of the captain holding such a letter of marque. Later, perhaps, she could transfer ownership to Vatta Transport, but that would have to be by sale, not gift. They had agreed that having a ship formerly owned by someone with a bad reputation was an embarrassment. But they had not yet decided whether ownership gained by capture allowed the new owner the privilege of changing the ship’s identity…and when, if it was legal, it could be done. How long should it be delayed awaiting legal challenge?
Another complication was the continuing pressure to sell Rascal. They had been offered a number of substitute pets, from Terran cats of all shapes and sizes to exotics like Tamburine alloes—furry, with black masks like Old Earth raccoons and bright green tongues. They were said to be completely odorless, nonallergenic despite the soft fur, affectionate, and docile; they excreted dry pellets, which they were easily taught to put in receptacles for pickup. Ky had refused all these. She still wasn’t that fond of the pup, but Rascal and the need to care for him had certainly put Toby on an even keel. The boy had blossomed on the voyage, willingly tackling challenging tasks related to the drives as well as continuing his studies and caring for Toby. He was centimeters taller, muscling up as he worked out in the gym under Martin’s guidance. She wasn’t about to upset him by taking away his dog. The more they pressured her, the more she resisted.
_______
“Captain Vatta.” That was the stationmaster’s icon. Ky opened her channel and the stationmaster’s face came up onscreen, looking graver than its wont.
“I’m here,” Ky said.
“I’m sorry to say I have had a disturbing message from the Vatta Transport ship en route to the station. Her captain—”
“Captain Furman,” Ky said.
“Er…yes. Captain Furman insists that you must be an imposter, that the real Kylara Vatta is dead.”
“What?” The other bridge crew in hearing turned to look at her, their visible shock paralleling what she felt.
“He says the Vatta family were attacked—which you told us—but insists that the person whose name and identification you gave must be dead, and that you are not she.”
“I certainly am,” Ky said firmly. “Did you transmit a visual image of me?”
“Not yet,” the stationmaster said. “Do you expect he will recognize it?”
“He certainly should,” Ky said. “I did my apprentice voyage on his ship, and then we…ran into each other last year in the Sabine System, when someone attacked their ansible platforms. I have no idea why he would think I’d died.” Should she mention that it was more confrontation than meeting? Probably not.
“Because he was part
of the plot?” murmured Rafe, just out of range of the pickup.
Ky didn’t want to think about that. Furman was a stiff-necked prig, true, but that didn’t make him a traitor.
“So he should be familiar with you; he has seen you recently enough—”
“I would think so,” Ky said. “I was only thirteen on my apprentice voyage, but I’m assuming he had his screen on when we spoke at Sabine. We didn’t meet face-to-face; we weren’t docked at the same time.” Again, the complexities of that whole situation—why she was docked and he wasn’t, why she had not met him face-to-face—were more than she wanted to explain at the moment.
“He says the ship you’re in was stolen by a renegade Vatta—which you also told us—and he says he thinks you must be Osman Vatta’s daughter or granddaughter, pretending to be Kylara, the daughter of Gerard Vatta. That Kylara Vatta, if alive, would be on a ship named Gary Tobai, but he’s sure you’re—she’s—dead.”
“My cousin Stella’s on the Gary; she should be here any day. Send Furman my picture and see what he says,” Ky said. “If he still insists it’s not me, he’s lying and my cousin will vouch for me when she gets here.”
“Captain, not to impugn your honesty in any way…will your cousin have any better identification than you? And will Captain Furman know her?” A moment’s pause, then, “I must remind you, Captain, that even in moments of emotional intensity, using such epithets as lying is against our regulations, as provided in the hardcopy you were given. I am willing to overlook it this once, but such an infringement if repeated must be reported and will reflect on any judgment in this case.”
“My apologies,” Ky said, choking back what she really wanted to say. “I appreciate your leniency to a visitor and regret that my home world’s standards of courtesy were so lax.” It would not help her case, she suspected, to tell the stationmaster that Furman had called her a liar and that’s why her father had sent him out here. The last thing she wanted was a forced implant readout, not with that thing Rafe’s implant had inserted into her head.
Engaging the Enemy Page 23
