Victory Conditions (16 page)

“Stupid young twit,” Rafe said, in as light a voice as he could manage, while rage blurred his vision. He could imagine the depth of pain that would cause a woman like Ky; his knuckles ached to meet the fellow’s face.

“Yes. Scared, too, I think. Ky stirred up a political storm, you see, just trying to do a good deed. But my point is, Rafe, that she’s been hurt, and she doesn’t need your kind of man upsetting her.”

“I would never…,” Rafe began. Stella held up her hand.

“Rafe, even granting that you may have changed enough to take over at ISC and act the part of a respectable corporate executive, I know you too well…you might not intend to hurt her, but you would.”

“Because…?”

“Because you are not serious about her.” Stella held up her hand again, though he had said nothing. “You have never been serious about anyone, though I admit you now seem to be serious about ISC. And your own family, perhaps. But you are not serious about Ky; I do not see you giving up what you have now—ISC, your family—to court and marry her and be with her for the rest of your life and hers. Can you tell me that’s what you’re thinking?”

He was not thinking…he was feeling, and what he felt was outside his experience and his expectation. “I love her,” he found himself saying.

“You
think
you love her,” Stella said. “But if you do, it’s as a little sister—”

“No,” Rafe said, ignoring the upraised hand. “I have a little sister, a little sister I care for and protect. What I feel for Ky is not that.” He took a deep breath, looking past Stella at the Vatta Transport logo on the wall behind her, then met her eyes again. “It’s up to me and to Ky herself, Stella, what we do. Not you.”

She grimaced. “I was afraid you’d start sounding like Toby and his girlfriend. Rafe, you’re too old for that nonsense. You have responsibilities, as have I. Ky has responsibilities—and if she’s distracted by you, or anyone else, we may all be lost. You cannot—you must not—distract her.”

“I thought of that—I
did,
” he said, when she looked dubious. “It’s why I didn’t tell her anything. But the war will be over, one way or the other…”

“You’re not right for her, Rafe. She needs someone with the same interests, the same expertise. She’s not ever going to be a corporate wife.”

“That’s her decision.” Stella just looked at him. Rafe shrugged. “I know. She’s not—but I don’t want her to be…to be like my mother or anything. I do care, I do…love…her.”

“Then let her alone,” Stella said crisply. “I know you, Rafe, remember? Not just that time we had, but the background I did on you for Aunt Grace.”

“I am capable of change—”

“Maybe. And you aren’t the same as you were the last time I saw you, I’ll give you that. But you still aren’t what she needs, not after that Hal fellow.”

“I won’t hurt her that way.”

“She doesn’t need to be hurt
any
way.”

“I’m not going to,” Rafe said.

“Well, see that you don’t. Because I’ll be watching.”

She was watching. The Nexus government was watching. His father and his father’s old friends in ISC were watching. All, like vultures perched on a cliff, eyeing a lame wild sheep limping slowly along below. Waiting for it to fall. Hoping it would fall. Like Parmina, in that way, in wanting him to prove how base, how faithless, how incapable he was.

Rafe slid into his CEO persona as easily as into a well-tailored jacket and met Stella’s gaze with bland equanimity. “I’m sure you’re right,” he said. Stella gave him another suspicious look, which he met with all armor on. She could not hurt him. She could not stop him. Nobody could, except Ky. And if, for reasons even he had to admit were—for the time being—operable, he could not have Ky…nothing could stop him from the pursuit of the man who had hurt Ky.
Hal.
He knew better than to ask Stella for the rest of the man’s name, but someone he knew would know someone who knew or could find out. Presumably he had graduated from the Academy; presumably he was, or had been, an officer in Slotter Key’s Spaceforce.

“I’m serious,” Stella said, a fine line now between her brows. Rafe forced himself to smile, the neutral and acceptable smile of one CEO to another.

“I’m sure you are,” he said. “But now, I must go, because I have to meet with the Deputy Minister of Defense, who will I’m sure want to know what we are doing to ensure the reliability of the system ansibles here.”

“If she weren’t my cousin and an orphan,” Stella said, “I could be more sympathetic.”

Rafe waved a hand, dismissing the entire topic. “Let me assure you that damaging your family is far from my mind—and that also means I’m fighting the Board on behalf of Vatta Enterprises.”

“I know,” Stella said. “I was told that by our people here.” She glanced at the clock. “Don’t be late for your meeting. I’ll see you at the dinner tonight.”
And I’ll be watching,
that meant.

Ky had not realized how many uniforms an admiral might need—how many public appearances must be made, at what levels of formality. She fastened the last button on her new evening dress tunic, mentally reviewing the various sensitive areas she must avoid this evening. She would meet, for the first time, the Nexus diplomats, and Rafe would be there. Well, she could handle that part. No more romantic fantasies. Everyone should be well satisfied that she was a cool, adult professional with no adolescent yearnings for the unattainable CEO of ISC. The Slotter Key ambassador should not be a problem, nor his military attaché. Dan Pettygrew had been invited, again, as Bissonet’s representative, and Teddy Ransome as head of Ransome’s Rangers. Teddy, uninterested in meetings, had accepted the dinner invitation, and Ky decided to let the watchers assume that’s where her affections, if any, lay.

Teddy, it turned out, had chosen the most flamboyant of his uniforms—white with gold, at his side a sword that Ky suspected was not merely ornamental. Gold buttons, gold braid, gold stripe on the white trousers…at least his shoes were black and had no tassels. With her white dress tunic and dark slacks they made, she was aware, a striking pair. Especially as Teddy, enacting his Romantic mind-set, paid her every gallant attention. Never mind. It would divert attention from the unacceptable.

She smiled, greeted the honorable this and the distinguished that, the names going straight into her implant, while her mind drifted…where was Rafe? Would he even speak to her? Teddy had gone off to the drinks buffet, promising to return with one for her.

Stella appeared in front of her. “You look superb,” she said, very softly.

“These uniforms,” Ky said. “You’re a genius.”

To her surprise, Stella flushed slightly. “I’m glad you like them. I was worried—all those times your mother told you to copy me.”

Ky shook her head. “Let’s bury the mother–cousin thing, shall we? I needed help; you gave it; I’m grateful. I couldn’t have managed this on my own, not on top of everything else. And the other officers like the insignia design for the SDF, so again—thanks.”

“I did just want to say—are you having any problems with Rafe?”

Ky’s heart stuttered. “Problems?”

Stella gave her a hard look. “You know what the problems are—is he doing anything to make it seem like…like…”

“Like we’re more than acquaintances?” Ky said. “No. On the contrary.” Her voice was a little more clipped than usual; she could hear it, and she saw Stella react to it.

“I’m glad you’re not…involved,” Stella said. “I didn’t think you were, but besides the political problems it would cause now, he’s just not the right sort for you.”

Ky bit back
As if you knew,
and said instead, “You’ve not met Captain Ransome yet, have you?”

“No—” Stella looked around. “Which one is he?”

“Captain Ransome!” Ky spoke a little louder, and Teddy whirled, his cape swirling out. “Come meet my cousin Stella.”

“Good…heavens,” Stella said. She had no chance to say more, because Teddy had already produced an elaborate bow that caught everyone’s attention. Nor did he spill either of the glasses he carried.

“Stella, this is Captain Theodore Albert Driscoll Ransome, commander of Ransome’s Rangers, who has gallantly attached himself to our force. You may recall I told you about him, when I was at Adelaide. Captain Ransome, my cousin Stella Vatta, currently CEO of Vatta Enterprises.”

He was looking at Stella in the way men often did—and women, too, Ky had to admit—but the shock of her beauty did not impair his speech. “My utmost admiration, Sera Vatta,” he said. “May I offer you this?” He held out one glass.

“Thank you,” Stella said, taking it, whereupon he immediately seized her hand and kissed it. Ky felt a bubble of laughter for the first time that day; Stella looked dumbfounded.

“And you, Admiral, here is your favorite.” Ky took the glass he offered, and watched with mounting amusement as Stella reacted to Teddy Ransome’s effusive praise…she had never seen that particular expression on Stella’s face.

“Excuse me, Admiral Vatta—” That was one of the diplomats from Nexus; her implant gave her his name and title.

“Of course, Ser Tallal.”

“You do not, pardon me, look much like your cousin…”

Ky smiled. She was familiar with this one. “You’re right, Ser Tallal. My family were all darker; she takes after her mother’s family, the Stamarkos family, who are mostly blond. And of course, she is beautiful.”

“Ah. I meant no insult—”

“And no insult was taken, I assure you.” If they thought Vattas were villains, she could at least be a courteous, smooth villain.

“I was…I know you must have heard that on my planet there is concern about your influence on the young Ser Dunbarger.”

“I have no influence,” Ky said. “We are acquaintances, merely; I’m sure he has told you the same.”

“Yes, but…his family history…he did not have a good reputation as a young man. I would not bring up any details now, considering his present position, but…it is thought that perhaps he might…shade the truth.”

If only that were the case. If only she could believe that. Ky shook her head. “By happenstance, we traveled on the same ship for a while, and in his capacity as an agent of ISC he repaired some system ansibles. When we arrived here, he chose to leave the ship and return home.”

Tallal looked at her long and hard, then glanced aside at Teddy Ransome, still chatting with Stella. “Is that young man…a friend?”

“Captain Ransome,” Ky said carefully, “commands Ransome’s Rangers, and joined our force in Adelaide. His unit is quite effective for certain special assignments.”

“He is actually a ship captain? He seems so…”

“
Colorful
may be the word you’re looking for,” Ky said.

“Yes…and you find him…attractive, perhaps?”

Ky looked at him. “Ser Tallal, one cannot help noticing that he is decorative, but I am a military officer, and he is in my chain of command.”

He scowled, but dropped that topic. “It struck many of us that quite a few Vattas survived and seem to be involved in our affairs—” His glance slid past her and fastened on Stella. “You, your cousin, your aunt on Slotter Key—and these…privateers…”

“It bothers you that they’re privateers?” Ky said. She hadn’t heard that before.

“Well, they’re really just pirates, aren’t they? Given license to attack any ship they suspect of being an enemy?”

Ky wondered if any answer would change his mind, but she had to try. “Letters of marque and reprisal specify what types of ships a privateer can lawfully engage,” she said. “They are legal under the code that your government and many others signed.”

“Lawfully…but who is to say they stay lawful. Osman Vatta didn’t.”

“Osman was never a privateer,” Ky said. “He was an outlaw from early on; the family threw him out—”

“They gave him a ship, a ship with weapons—”

“No, he stole the ship. And armed it himself—it was an ordinary tradeship before.”

“You say that now—” He stopped short as two Cascadian government officials within earshot turned to watch, their expressions disapproving.

Ky softened hers intentionally. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to imply that I am less than truthful, Ser Tallal.”

“Er…no, not that, but you’re young; you might not know—”

“The Slotter Key ambassador can, I’m sure, furnish you with the data you require,” Ky said. “Vatta filed a report with law enforcement and with the insurance company when the ship was stolen.”

He looked unconvinced, but the Cascadian officials had come closer. One was the minister Ky had met in that morning’s first meeting.

“Admiral Vatta,” he said. “I wanted to ask you about that very decorative young man chatting with your cousin.”

“Captain Ransome,” Ky said. “Of Ransome’s Rangers.”

“A privateer company?”

“No. I’m not sure what you’d call them. Gentleman adventurers, perhaps. They come from a society with a very unusual—to me anyway—approach to identity. Right now, Captain Ransome is exercising his Romantic intelligence, he will tell you.”