Engaging the Enemy (5 page)

“It's the only way to prove who I really am—” Ky said. “I need to get this ship in my name legally.”

“It's the way to be stuck in a lockup with no chance at all to prove who you really are.”

Martin gave Rafe a sidelong look, then nodded. “He's right, Captain. They want you to go alone; you don't know anyone here; you don't have any allies. You can't call on the Slotter Key embassy, even if there is one.”

“There's not,” Ky said. “I checked. Representation is through Fiella Consortium.”

“There you are. No allies, no backup—it's insane.”

“But if I don't go, they'll say I'm a pirate. And what will happen to Stella and the
Gary
?”

“Stella can take care of herself,” Rafe said. “And she'll have Mackensee to speak up for her, as well as the other captains—she didn't make the decisions you made. As your designated representative, she can receive the funds due you from the rest of the convoy and pay off Mackensee.”

“I've got to talk to Johannson again,” Ky said. “And Stella. But I have to answer them first.”

“No, you don't. You've got hours. And by the way,
partner,
I really appreciate your not telling me about that letter of marque. Were you ever going to?”

“Yes,” Ky said. “When the time came.”

The look he gave her was not reassuring. “Well, the time came at someone else's convenience. I hope you don't have too many more surprises for me. I do my best plotting when I have all the facts.”

“No more that I know of,” Ky said. “For what it's worth, I hadn't made up my mind to use the letter of marque, since by the time it arrived in my hands, I knew the Slotter Key government had turned against our family. If the ansibles were up, I'm sure they'd have recalled it or repudiated it or whatever they do.”

Rafe blinked. “You weren't going to use it? What kind of idiocy is that? It's a marvelous opportunity to rebuild Vatta's fleet, if nothing else. Not every system government is as hidebound as this one; as long as you don't prey on their people and spend enough in port, they won't care.”

“But if Slotter Key—”

“Why do you care what they think? They turned on your family, right? Let 'em howl. You have a good fast ship and a letter of marque. You'd be crazy not to use it to the hilt.” The others, Ky noted when she glanced around, were staring at Rafe as if he'd sprouted extra limbs. He looked around, too, then back at her, a look as challenging as the flourish of a sword. “What—you haven't gotten squeamish, have you, or stricken with remorse or anything? After the way you killed Osman?”

She shook her head. “No…I'm not stricken with remorse. Osman needed killing. It's just—”

He interrupted. “It's just that you've always been a good girl, Stella says. Law abiding, rule following, all that. Well, look where it got your family. Dead, most of them. I'm not saying turn into a vindictive pirate like Osman, but if you want to do the survivors any good, you can't be too worried about what other people think.”

Ky was aware of a tense stillness; the bridge crew's attention was palpable. Her mouth was dry; she felt as if she were about to jump out of the ship into vacuum and free fall. A trickle of humor worked its way through—she had done that already. With a bungee cord. And she wasn't the nice rule-bound girl she had been—if she ever had been. She had killed more than once, and she had enjoyed it…something she hoped no one else would suspect.

“I suppose,” she said, drawing the words out, “if communications come back and Slotter Key tries to withdraw the letter of marque…I'll deal with it.”

A faint sense of relaxation. She took a deep breath and let it out. “All right. I'm not putting my head in anyone's noose just to see if they'll yank it tight. But I do need to talk to Stella and the Mackensee escort, and as many captains as I have time for.”

No one said anything, but there was a collective gust of breath let out.

“We're well stocked for any ordinary voyage,” Ky said, as if to herself. “We can't air up the whole ship yet, but there's plenty for us and we have the power to warm up Environmental and let the tanks start producing. Plenty of water, right, Mitt?”

“Yes, plenty. We can go to electrolysis if you want, but it's safer to go slow.”

“Well, then. We need to find a destination, within two jumps, and in the books as being relaxed on regulatory operations.”

S
tella, when Ky contacted her aboard
Gary Tobai,
stared out of the screen, eyes wide. “You're going to leave me behind? What if they lock me up?” she asked. “Why wouldn't they?”

“You weren't in command when Osman attacked us; you didn't make the decisions or even participate.”

“I had a bag over my head and was tied up—” Stella said. “If that's not participating…”

“I know that and you know that, but they don't. And they don't need to. You're my cousin; you're a Vatta—or a Constantin, I don't care which name you use here—and you did what you were told. I can name you my agent for financial matters—collecting payment from the others in the convoy and paying off Mackensee. Mackensee will speak up for you, after all. You should still have enough to get where we're going…”

“If they don't put me in jail,” Stella said gloomily. “It wouldn't be the first time a government punished the innocent because they couldn't catch the guilty.” Then, in a different tone, “Sorry. I didn't mean you were guilty, of course. Just what they think, or may think.”

“That's all right,” Ky said. “But I need someone here to handle the financial end, and you are, at present, our family finance person.”

“Quincy says we need a pilot,” Stella said. “Or we'll have to have one of theirs.”

“Take one of theirs. It'll lower their suspicions. Of you, anyway. I'll talk to Mackensee and the others.”

“I hope you don't mind that we told them about your letter of marque,” Johannson said when she called the Mackensee ship. “The locals thought you were Osman trying another trick, or maybe one of his crew or a relative or something. I tried to convince them that you were legitimate, but then they started suspecting us.” His expression was that of someone holding a very dead rat by the tail. “I thought the letter of marque would give you some legitimacy, but apparently not.”

“I understand,” Ky said. She did, but that didn't make her happy about it. “He
was
a relative—distant and unwelcome. At least he didn't have any children.” That they knew about, Ky thought suddenly. What if he had? What kind of monsters would someone like Osman have fathered? Was she going to be pursued by his children? She shoved that worry down to deal with the immediate problem. “My concern now is how they will regard Stella. Will it be safe to send her in, or will they throw her in jail?”

“I doubt they'll detain her,” Johannson said. “I was able to pry out of them that they had no bias against Vatta as a whole, and
Gary Tobai
doesn't scare them. It's in their database as a legitimate Vatta ship. They may do a closer inspection than otherwise. I hope you moved those mines—”

She had forgotten the mines. Anyone coming aboard—certainly anyone inspecting the cargo holds—would see both the mines and the evidence that one had gone off inside the ship. “No,” Ky said. “I didn't have the chance.”

He pulled at his lower lip. “Hmmm. That may be a problem. And that ship needed some repairs, didn't it? If you—your cousin, I mean—can make it to another port, perhaps that would be wiser.”

“We have to collect the fees from the convoy to pay you,” Ky reminded him. “The contract's with Vatta, so Stella can do that—she can set up a transfer account, for instance. And they'll need supplies.”

“Ah. But do repairs have to be made before another transfer?”

“I'll ask our engineer, but probably not. Stella will need more crew, though. She's shorthanded now; she doesn't even have a pilot aboard.”

Johannson sighed, a sound between resignation and exasperation. “We can supply one for her to dock, but you're right, she'll need one.” No port authority would let a ship leave without a licensed pilot aboard.

“That would be a big help,” Ky said. “Just getting her to the dockside legally.” And a Mackensee pilot wouldn't wander around the ship and discover the mines she'd had no chance to remove.

“I suppose we could claim to have loaned you the mines,” Johannson said. “Though that doesn't explain the damage…”

“Maybe they won't be noticed,” Ky said. “If she can get in, do the financial stuff…the ship's a mess but the repairs aren't critical, exactly.”

“She can't sell anything remotely suspicious,” Johannson said. “That'll trigger a request to inspect the cargo holds. Loading…well, she can have her own crew do that, but if that involves new people, people she's not sure of—” He sighed again. “I'd like to offer to help her screen applicants, but I can't. I've exceeded our regs already. You've really put her in a very difficult spot.”

Ky wondered if he'd have been half as sympathetic if it had been the lovely Stella who had put her in a spot. “I'm sorry,” she said, though she felt she had done nothing but apologize for days.

Stella Vatta went looking for Quincy; the elderly engineer was doing something at the control boards…Stella had no idea what, and at the moment didn't care.

“I think Ky's gone crazy,” she said.

Quincy looked up. “I doubt it, but what's bothering you?”

“She's not going to dock here. They're insisting on adjudicating possession of Osman's ship, and Ky insists it's Vatta property, stolen and then recovered as a prize. Claims that makes it hers two ways. They're not agreeing; she's going to pull out, she says. That's insane. Leaving me here with a ship I don't know anything about—”

Quincy gave her a hard look, not the sympathetic one she'd been hoping for. “You've been aboard how long? And she appointed you captain tens of days ago…”

Stella tossed her head. “I've been trying, but I never had the ship background. And anyway, even if I did know all about this ship, it's not right for her to just hare off somewhere and leave me—”

“We could go with her,” Quincy said.

“She says not. She says we're supposed to stay behind and handle all the financial stuff with the convoy and Mackensee.”

Quincy's brows rose. Stella nodded at her.

“Now do you see what I mean? I can just imagine what the other captains will say. And Mackensee. And she's left me to straighten out whatever messes she's caused—”

“You are trained in finance, though, isn't that right?” Quincy asked.

“Well, yes, but—”

“Do you really think this is something you can't do?”

“Well, no, but—”

“So she knows you're capable of it, and she's left you a job you can do. It's unfortunate that she has to pull out, and I admit I'd be more comfortable if she were going to be around—” That in a tone suggesting Quincy wasn't at all convinced Stella was competent. “—but I don't see that it's as bad as you're making out.”

Stella stared at the old woman. “You—you agree with her?”

“Whether I agree with her or not on any given decision isn't the point. The point is she's saved us—and this ship—twice now, and for me that's a record worth respecting. She's asked you to do something you're capable of doing—”

“I got that already,” Stella said.

“Good. Because that's what's important. If she'd asked you to fight a space battle, I might think that was crazy. If she asked you to pilot the ship into dock yourself, I'd know that was crazy. But asking you to sweet-talk some ship captains and handle finances? It should be eating cake with cream for someone like you.” The look Quincy gave her made clear what assets the old woman thought Stella would use on the ship captains. Stella felt her blood beginning to sizzle.

“We don't even have a pilot,” Stella said, struggling to keep her voice level. “It's not legal. We have to have a pilot to dock.”

“And undock,” Quincy reminded her. “But pilots are always for hire at major ports like this. We can call for one, to get in, and I'd be very surprised indeed if you couldn't hire any crew you wanted once we're docked.”

“You don't think they'll ask questions?” Stella said. Quincy looked blank. “About the damage,” Stella went on. “Where Ky the genius nearly blew a hole in our ship and knocked us all out.”

“It didn't go anywhere near the hull,” Quincy said. “And there's no reason a hired pilot would need to be down there in cargo anyway.”

“We'd better hope they don't have a good nose,” Stella said. To her, the emergency access passage still had a meaty aroma though the others claimed they'd swabbed it repeatedly and there weren't any visible stains from Osman's gory demise. She was sure minute traces of blood remained that could be found by any good forensics team. Not to mention a certain gory package in the back of the freezer; Ky had wanted a tissue sample to prove identity if she needed to.

Quincy leaned against the bulkhead and folded her arms. “Stella, I can tell you're upset, but for the good of Vatta you need to get over whatever it is. You and Ky must work together—it's our only hope.”

“I was willing to work with her,” Stella said. “But she isn't working with me: she's just doing what she wants and she expects me to follow along like…like that idiot puppy.” Quincy opened her mouth but Stella ignored her and rode the rush of anger that had finally gotten loose. “I'm not her puppy or even her kid sister. I'm older than she is, I've been out in the universe longer, and she treats me like some low-ranking employee, not a colleague or family member!”

“That's not fair—”

“You're right it's not fair.” Stella knew what Quincy meant, but shook her head and went on. “Everything she does gets us in worse trouble. It's as if she wanted trouble, wanted danger. I suppose she gets a kick out of it; that's probably why she went to the Academy in the first place. But it's not the way to rebuild a business!”

“She saved your life,” Quincy said, as loudly as Stella. “She saved all our lives. You might at least show a little gratitude!”

“Gratitude for being tied up helpless with a sack over my head and then having my implant fried by that EMP burst? I don't think so. If she'd had the sense to listen to that Mackensee commander and leave Osman well alone—”

“He'd still be out there hunting us,” Quincy said, biting off each word. “Do you really think he wouldn't have reported us passing through that system to his allies? Do you really think we'd be better off with Osman in that ship than Ky? Use your head, Stella! You're smarter than that.”

The anger withdrew, but not all the way. “And then there's Rafe,” Stella said. “She's got some kind of relationship going with Rafe, I can feel it. And he's dangerous; she doesn't have a clue how dangerous.”

“And you do,” Quincy said, with a sly smile. “Don't try to fool me, young woman: I've seen too much jealousy in my life not to recognize it when it's standing red-faced in front of me. You wish Rafe were here not for Ky's sake but for yours. Your heart rate speeds up at least fifteen percent when he looks at you.”

“I do not,” Stella said, but she knew her voice lacked conviction. “I set Rafe aside years ago—”

“And then you ran into him again. I agree, he's a dangerous man, but you underestimate Ky if you think she'll do anything foolish because he has a glamour about him. She's not the one who—”

“Oh, for pity's sake, don't bring
that
up again,” Stella said. “It was over ten years ago and I've never done it again.”

“Sorry,” Quincy said, her face flushing.

“And it's because she has less experience that I worry about her,” Stella said, trying to recover some high ground.

“Well, don't. At least, don't worry about her on that account. Worry about how she'll get along if you turn on her, if you and she can't work together.”

“I don't see how we can work together if she's not even here.” Stella knew that sounded sulky, but she still felt sulky. More than that, she still had the cold, vast hollow inside her, the vast fear she had endured, lying bound and hooded in Ky's cabin while Osman attacked. Yes, she had volunteered for that so that Ky would be free to act, but she had not expected to feel quite so helpless, so vulnerable. The others had known what was going on; the others had been able to
do
something, but she had been left without any clue at all, not knowing who would come into the cabin next until she was actually freed.

In her mind, that fear flowed into the next, when Ky had suddenly ordered them all into suits and had gone by herself to deal with Osman. None of them had known what was going on, then, until Ky did something—told someone—to trigger one of the EMP mines and the surge knocked them all out. Once more, she'd been helpless, this time in a helpless ship, while Ky—the only one awake and capable—killed Osman.

She could not forget—she would never forget—the blood, the stench, when Ky came in that time. Ky, her little cousin, the good girl of the family, the dreamer…she had looked, in the aftermath of her battle with Osman, like a hideous monster. Even after she showered and changed, something lingered, some essence of the killer. It was as if Ky had absorbed something of Osman, his brutality, his delight in dominating, causing pain…but she could not quite believe that. Not Ky. Yet…