—
Dawn came late, under the clouds and on one of the shortest days of winter. “No firing in the last forty-five minutes,” MacRobert reported. Troops from the Joint Services base had swept the city within a kilometer of Ky’s command vehicle. Snow had lightened to occasional thin skeins lasting only a minute or so. Ambulances were rolling, carrying wounded from both sides back to Marvin J. Peake Military Hospital.
“I’m going to see what kind of peace we have,” Ky said. She stood up, feeling stiff in hips and back. “Osinery, you’re with me. It’s likely to be gruesome.”
Ky made it to the line the cadets were still holding, with the help of seasoned troops, and met with their class advisers. “Major Leonidze, Major Massoudian, your classes have done extremely well. I understand you both have casualties—have all your wounded been evacuated now?”
“Yes, Commandant. The—the dead are over here, if you—”
“Of course.” Ky looked at the row of bodies laid out neatly. She had known they would lose some; each deserved recognition and respect. “I’ll call for transport.” She leaned over each, naming the cadet and murmuring a Modulan prayer for their soul’s passage. “I’m relieving all the cadet units; get them back to the Academy and we’ll hold a brief assembly first of all. I know they’re tired and hungry, but they need to know their effort is recognized and their sacrifices honored. I will need a list of all your casualties to read out to the assembled cadets.”
By noon, she had spoken to the assembly, naming each of the dead and wounded. Looking out at the solemn faces—now edged with a maturity they had not shown before—she thought how different their experience was from her own first encounter with violent death. “And all of you—every class—showed that you are in fact qualified to be future officers. I am honored to be your Commandant.” When dismissed, they marched out heads high, but she knew there would be a backlash in the next day or so. Well, she had resources for them that she’d lacked for herself.
In the meantime, she had the evidence she needed to report certain faculty members to General Molosay as conspirators, and she had the report on Colonel Bohannon’s attack and death to file. Eventually there’d be an official investigation. Writing and filing reports took up the rest of her day.
Over at the government center, workers were still digging bodies out of the snow—none of her force, at least—and the regular troops reported sporadic firing and resistance in the business district. All the buildings had damage. But none of the government officials had been hurt—a fair trade, Ky thought.
At the harbor, a Quindlan ship had sailed from the south docks before dawn, and was making good time eastward, apparently bound for the west coast of Voruksland. By report it was carrying farm machinery and other manufactured goods; the manifest and course had been certified the day before. Ky suspected that was a lie, but Voruksland had been notified; they would deal with it when it arrived. Other ships had left even earlier, their captains declaring it was safer at sea in a blizzard than in a harbor under attack, so the Quindlan ship’s departure didn’t raise any questions.
Stella, Rafe, and Grace all reported in by midafternoon, to Ky’s relief, though she had little time to talk to them. The Academy needed all her attention now that Molosay had officially relieved her of her task of protecting the government.
DAY 49
Four days later, it was certain that a general uprising had been avoided. The survivors from Miksland had been interviewed repeatedly as they recovered, and they had expressed such anger at the treatment they’d received from those trying to keep Miksland secret that public sympathy turned hard against the insurgents. Fighting in the cities of Dorland and Fulland had lasted a couple of days, but it was clear that the Unionists outnumbered the Separatists. Traitors, they were now called. The governors of every continent and province declared full confidence in the planetary government and allegiance to it. Dorland’s pointed out that they’d prospered much more after the Unification than before it. Sporadic raids by Separatists over the next day had been met with blunt words and gunfire by the rural population, and on the fourth day, the last Separatist group surrendered to the chief of a fishing village.
One immediate effect of the new stability was Immigration immediately crediting Ky with the required half-year residency for her time on Miksland, expediting all her paperwork, and converting Rafe’s visa to permanent residence as long as Ky vouched for him. Teague’s visa was extended for another half year.
Rafe called with that news and asked if she would be coming to the Vatta house anytime soon.
“Not yet,” Ky said. “The cadet corps is still unsettled—” The aftermath of combat had caught up with several of the cadets. “They need me.” She paused; the silence on the com deepened. “And I need you. The Commandant’s Residence isn’t as big or fancy as that house, but it’s bigger than a spaceship.”
“Won’t that cause a problem?”
“I won’t let it,” Ky said.
“I love it when you sound commanding,” Rafe said. “Two hours?”
“I’ll notify the gate. You’ll be escorted to the guest suite. I’ll be on the drill field then, discussing the condition of the turf and how it’s going to be fixed by graduation.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Those tracked earthmovers we borrowed from the Joint Services base. Frozen ground or no, they claim the gouges are so deep the turf can’t possibly be repaired by graduation. I suspect it can, but the groundsmen want me to be amazed when they accomplish it.”
That night, Rafe and Ky relaxed in the office adjoining her bedroom, talking as they had not since returning from Corleigh. When no interruptions had come for a full hour and a half, Ky led the way into her suite. Rafe stopped short, staring at the bed. “What in the world?”
“The insignia of each branch. Hand-carved, not molded. It’s old, from when the Academy was founded. It’s considered irreplaceable, so we’d best not damage it.”
“And all those coms on the bedside—that’s the side you sleep on?”
“Yes. The three colors are important. And it’s almost certain that at least one of them will ring every night.”
He walked to the other side of the bed, where the Spaceforce insignia’s spiky nose protruded. “Did anyone ever sleep on this side? This thing looks like it’s designed to puncture someone’s skull.”
“I have no idea.” Ky was grinning at his expression. “Maybe they had lots of pillows.”
Rafe felt the tip of the carving and shook his head. “I wouldn’t trust pillows. That would poke through anything less than three centimeters of solid wood. Perhaps it was intended to ensure a Commandant’s celibacy.”
“Too late,” Ky said. “Maybe the intent was to move the Commandant to this side of the bed, where the com connections were.”
“Whatever,” Rafe said. “I think we’d be more comfortable somewhere else.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Surely you’d like to see the interesting etchings in my guest suite, Admiral.”
“I’ll have to switch the coms over to that room. Commandants are on call all the time.”
“Fine with me. Better than being stabbed by a spaceship.”
No call came that night.
DAY 50
Ky’s first call the next day was from General Molosay. “You’ll be hearing from President Saranife sometime today; she has an offer to make and I hope you will consider it favorably.”
“You can’t give me a hint?”
“No, I can’t. I can tell you that the heads of all the branches were consulted and agreed, as did the Council.”
“Thank you for letting me know, General,” Ky said as possibilities bubbled up. None of them things she wanted to do.
Her next call was from Stella. “Did I tell you about the attacks on Vatta property back on Cascadia?”
“No…”
“Anger over Jen Bentik’s death, by a Bentik relative. Same as the reason for their putting a hold on your financial
s and mine. Well—their court decided that the Bentik family had breached the courtesy laws by not informing us—individually—of their grievance and giving us a chance to ask for arbitration prior to trial. The attack on my employees and property damage without prior reference to legal proceedings meant they were in the wrong, so they unfroze our accounts. Now I can finally pay you for your shares—and you’ve got your severance pay. If I were you, I’d transfer it fast.”
“Won’t that make them angry?”
“The money’s with Crown & Spears, and Crown & Spears doesn’t talk.”
“I’ll have to go personally,” Ky said. “I’ll try to do that today.”
“Aunt Grace is still determined to resign,” Stella said.
“I know. I think she’s right.”
“Yes, but—she wants to do it publicly.”
“It won’t hurt Vatta’s business,” Ky said. “It may help if we go quiet the way the family used to be.”
“I suppose. The Vatta house is secure enough now and almost refurbished. I’m moving back in but with some live-in staff. Mother’s keeping the children on Corleigh to the end of this school year and I don’t want to be alone.”
Ky’s call to Crown & Spears, the interstellar banking giant, went smoothly—but yes, they did need her to appear in person, with her current Slotter Key ID, and provide a bio sample. “Just in case. I mean, Admiral—Commandant—we know who you are, but our auditors—”
“That’s fine,” Ky said. “I’ll be there in an hour or so.”
“Anytime, Commandant. At your convenience.”
Her official car, the one with the little flag displayed in front, took her to the Crown & Spears offices downtown. The street had a row of track marks down it from the invading force’s personnel carriers, but otherwise traffic was back to normal and she saw no damage from the fighting. The invaders had been so eager to get to the government buildings they’d bypassed other targets.
“Luckily,” said the manager who greeted her, “there was only one incident, over on Promenade, the Hassel & Sons hattery, but it was only one broken window, no other loss. Let me just check you in. Retinal scan, fingerprints, and do you have DNA mods of any kind?”
“No,” Ky said. She put her hands on the plate and looked into the hood.
“We’re comparing with both your previous information provided here and that on Cascadia—it will be just a few minutes. Perhaps you’d like tea? And did you need any information about local investment opportunities?”
Very shortly her identification scans cleared, and she had transferred her balance on Cascadia to the local branch here on Slotter Key. While she was still there, the transfer from Vatta for her shares came in. And her skullphone pinged. It was her clerk at the Academy.
“Commandant, the President would like to see you; I told her you were away from the Academy, and she asked if you could stop by the Palace on your way back.”
The bank manager slid a message to her—the total now in her account. Half a spaceship? Maybe. Ky held up a finger and answered. “Yes, please tell the President I will be on my way there shortly.”
The bank manager smiled, as if having a bank client sending messages to the President was a credit to the bank. Maybe it was, Ky thought, as she turned to him. “Excuse me—I need to leave now, but I will discuss my plans with you later.” When she knew what they were.
The government center was an ugly mess, glassless windows staring darkly at furrowed ground, dirty snow, and men in uniform poking through the piles for weapons and bodies. Rows of trucks lined the margins of the plaza, some for equipment and some for bodies. The towerless Palace looked completely different from before. Better, Ky thought. But inside, the halls had been swept and Ky walked on carpets—stained but still in place—to the President’s office.
There she found President Saranife, General Molosay, and several other officers, along with the Chair of the Council.
“I must thank you,” the President said, coming forward to shake hands. “I admit to being worried—even scared at times—but you were right. Dispersing the members of government to different private homes was safer than staying here, even in the basement.”
“I’m glad it worked,” Ky said.
“The reason we asked you here,” Saranife said, with a glance around at the others, “is that we wanted to thank you and offer you a permanent position. Everyone agrees that you’re the right person for the job, a fitting successor to the great men who have held it before you. You don’t have to answer today, though we would be thrilled if you accepted right away.” Nods from the others. “We would like to make your appointment as Commandant permanent. It’s not just the defense of the government during the recent conflict, but the work you have done with the cadets—”
Ky had a moment of panic. They wanted her to stay on as Commandant permanently? “I’m honored you thought of me,” she said, “but you have many qualified officers who are actually graduates of the Academy, officers of more experience and seniority. I was appointed in an emergency; the emergency is over—”
“You’re not—you can’t leave now!”
“I can’t stay forever, either. I don’t feel I have the qualifications I would need to be a good long-term Commandant.” Not to mention having the wrong personality and the wrong ambitions.
“But—you’ll surely finish out the semester—if you won’t accept, it will take us time to choose someone in a more deliberate fashion.”
Despite their words, Ky felt a relaxation in the room. They had wound themselves up to offer it—everyone had agreed because they felt they had to—but in fact they were relieved, even if they didn’t know it yet. “Tell you what,” she said. “Suppose I stay through graduation this year, a bit longer if you can’t find someone right away, but no longer than three years beyond that. And I’d prefer that you find someone sooner.”
“Well.” Molosay’s gaze swept around the group of officers again. He gave a slight shrug. “I guess we’ll have to find someone, then.”
“The sooner the better,” Ky said. “And if you’ll allow—though I admired Commandant Burleson enormously, I suggest setting a firm limit to anyone’s tenure as Commandant. Six or eight or ten years, perhaps. Their experience with troops will be more recent. And the opportunity—the temptation—to become involved in politics will be much less.” To arrange the suicide of a President, for instance, which must surely be on everyone’s mind.
“You disapprove of Burleson’s action?”
“I wasn’t here,” Ky said. “It may have been the correct thing to do under the circumstances. But his being Commandant so long raised suspicions about the military, didn’t it?”
“Yes…”
“And for some people, both in and out of the military, it gave support to the disaffection that erupted recently. Some knew of the connection between Burleson and my family—and took that as proof we were trying to manipulate the military and government.”
Two of the officers, though not Molosay, nodded.
“You know your aunt is determined to resign as Rector of Defense,” Saranife said.
“Yes, and I think she’s right to do so. She did not know about the conditions of her release from prison—but once she found out, her resignation was imperative.”
“So I have to find a new Rector and a new Commandant,” Saranife said. She shrugged. “Well, nobody said this job would be easy.” She turned to Ky. “To celebrate your recent actions and your new—we hoped—post, we have refreshments set out in the next room. Do you have time—?”
“Sera, I always have time for pastries.”
The group moved into the next room, but the meeting broke up quickly. “What will you do?” Saranife asked Ky as she was leaving. “You’re not in the family business now—have you a plan?”
“Get the cadets through this semester and the graduating class through graduation. Later—well, something will come up. It always does.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
DAY 70
Benny Quindlan fingered the weapon he carried, checking again that it was loaded, charged, ready to use. He had returned to Port Major only the day before, tracking his uncle Michael from a distance. He had paid for a temporary DNA assist the day after his wife died in the hospital—a blend that came under the heading “cosmetic enhancement” rather than “identity replacement”—and so far had been able to travel unrecognized just by changing his clothes and putting a small lift in one shoe.
He had never believed himself capable of this sort of thing, until the evening he came home to find his wife mutilated, barely conscious, posed in the foyer of his home with their two children dead beside her. He knew at once who had done it, and knew that Michael believed “soft Benny” wouldn’t dare retaliate. Now that Michael had returned to Port Major, he must, Benny knew, be planning the vengeance he’d sworn on the Vatta family. He would be looking for an opportunity to kill Grace, Stella, and Ky, and if he succeeded in those, he would then seek out the last two survivors of the line he’d chosen, Stavros Vatta’s grandchildren.
Today’s meeting of the Grand Council, at which all three of Michael’s targets would be recognized for their service to the planet, was a perfect opportunity, Benny knew. And he himself would have to stop Michael, because no one else could, or would believe what he told them. He’d tried to tell the police when he found his family that his uncle had done it, but Michael had explained that Benny was the family dullard, harmless but clueless. Benny had tried again when he heard about this ceremony, calling the anonymous tip line, but could tell from the bored tone of the woman he spoke to that she didn’t believe him. He tried calling Stella Vatta, but her com lines were all under a security wrap, requiring a code he didn’t know for access. So coming here was his only hope.
It was colder than it had been, but the clouds were high and thin, the air under them clear. Benny, along with others, picked his way along what had been broad walks on either side of gardens in the plaza south of the Presidential Palace. Now, though clear of snow, they were pitted by the tracks of heavy machinery and bomb damage. Scaffolding covered the worst of the damage to the Palace and Government House.
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