Victory Conditions (29 page)

Everything stopped for an eternity Rafe could not measure. Sound, movement, all stopped. Nothing existed but Malendy’s face, a pale blur, and the darkness around him. Ky. Dead. His heart beat again, a single beat like a drum.
No.

Something twittered in the distance. Rafe tried to focus on it. Malendy, still talking. “—thing is, if they attack here, I must know how many ships—”

“Go. Away.” He did not know if he said it aloud. He wanted only to hear no more from Malendy…no more horrible, life-destroying news, no more impossible demands, nothing.

“But Ser Dunbarger! It’s important—the Secretary demands an answer—”

Inside, he felt a cold black explosion, the opposite of a nova, darkness spreading at the speed of light, faster even.

“I have no answer.” His voice startled him: colder than ice, colder than anything he had ever heard. He struggled with himself, and managed more. “Look: I did not know about the battle; I did not know about Commander Vatta’s death. It was my sister’s birthday; I had arranged a special dinner—” He looked at Malendy.

“But—”

“I will have an answer for you shortly…are you still in ansible contact with Moray?”

“Er…only by relay through the Space Defense Force. Moray’s ansible hasn’t been repaired yet. They’re working on it.”

“Good,” Rafe said. He was hovering over the brink of an endless drop…no, he was engulfed in horror…no, he was Rafe Dunbarger, acting CEO of InterStellar Communications. If Ky was dead…if the report was true…she would expect him to do what he needed to do, whatever that was. He had always known she was likely to be killed; he had told himself that over and over. Why then this shock? Had he not really believed?

“I’ll talk to Moray myself,” Rafe said. “I will need the code for the relay through SDF.” Malendy handed him a data strip; Rafe did not look at it, but tucked into his jacket pocket. Maybe the report was wrong. Maybe it was another ship; maybe she had somehow survived. Maybe she would not be there to stop him from killing whoever had done this in the most vicious way he could think of.

“But ships—”

“I’ll have that information for you later,” Rafe said. “Tomorrow morning.”

“We can’t wait—”

“You must,” Rafe said. “At worst, no one can reach us from there for twenty days at least. You said that yourself. I will be gathering data. It will take me that long to be sure it is accurate. You want it accurate, I take it.”

“Er…of course.”

“Then tell the Secretary I will have the data for him by 0930. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get started.”

“But—”

“Good-bye,” Rafe said. One of his security—Arral—stepped forward. Malendy backed away. Rafe turned his back on the man, reminded himself to breathe, and spoke to Arral.

“They have an ansible booth downstairs,” Rafe said. “Stay with Penny, Arral; Madoc can come with me. I’m going downstairs to make an ansible call.”

“Right, ser.”

“Tell Emil to check the status board; we have another system ansible down; he’s to arrange a repair.”

The Winterplain ansible booth was large enough for two, but Rafe left Madoc outside. In moments, his priority code gave him access to the closest satellite, with punch-through to the ansible platform itself. He downloaded the original message to the Defense Department, even as he placed the call. Status lights changed; the screen blinked twice then gave him a steady image of a uniformed woman he did not know.

“This is Rafe Dunbarger of ISC. I need to speak to Admiral Vatta.” Maybe it would work; maybe his need to talk to her would conjure her out of the ether.

The woman’s face changed to a careful expression. “The…you haven’t heard? Her ship…her ship was lost.”

Lost
could have many meanings…he told himself that, to keep his voice steady. “And Commander Vatta?”

“Was…she’s gone, Ser Dunbarger.”

Ships could be lost, misplaced, and yet whole and sound, along with those inside them. People could be gone, not here, and yet alive.

“Who’s in charge?” Rafe asked.

“Of Space Defense Force? Acting commander is Commander-Senior Murphy, of Moray.”

“Then I need to speak with Commander-Senior Murphy,” Rafe said. “I was contacted in response to a call from Space Defense Force to the Nexus Ministry of Defense.”

“Yes, ser.”

Commander-Senior Murphy looked nothing like a senior military commander to Rafe. His tall frame had generous bulges: jowls and chins and wrinkles where his stomach had grown over the years. But his eyes were shrewd; he nodded at Rafe. “I know who you are. Admiral Vatta briefed us before her ship blew; she believed Nexus was likely the next target for this fellow Turek. Nexus or Cascadia, and she was leaning toward Nexus.”

“How did it…happen?” Rafe asked.

“We aren’t entirely sure. Turek’s force laid a minefield as it fled, but we don’t think that was it—or wasn’t all of it. The ship was firing its beam—”

Rafe remembered what Stella had told him about Ky’s ship. It needed a major refit; Ky had not taken the time—or changed ships—

“—and we think perhaps the beam set off a number of mines at one time, too many for the shields. But our investigative teams haven’t completed their analysis.”

Stella had said something about a CCC, some kind of module that was supposed to give the ship…something. He couldn’t remember what. He didn’t ask about that. Instead, “Can you give me any information on the state of the Space Defense Force? Is it still operational? Will it be pursuing the enemy, or—”

“I cannot give you any operational information, you understand. I can say the force remains a useful organization. If the government of Nexus requests our assistance—”

“I’m sure it will,” Rafe said. “I have been asked to assess the readiness of ISC’s forces and respond to the Secretary by morning—it’s late night here. Did Comm—Admiral Vatta tell you anything about the ISC forces?”

“That they weren’t worth the trouble to blow away, yes, she did. I’m surprised you people have the reputation you’ve had—”

“Yes, well…it came as a surprise to me, too, when I took over this job. Apparently it was part of the same sabotage that resulted in my family’s abduction.”

“Do you have anything that’s combat-ready?” Murphy asked bluntly.

“Yes. Less than I could wish. I can’t tell you anything operational, either…I’m in a public ansible booth at a restaurant, and though I’ve engaged encryption it’s not as good as our own. But as soon as I found out our fleet had serious…deficiencies…I set about remedying them, putting all our resources into our best units.”

“Contact me again from a more secure location, will you? It’s midmorning here, but feel free to contact me anytime.”

“Thank you,” Rafe said. “It’s nighttime here—not late; we were at dinner. I’ll be briefing our Secretary of Defense in about…um…twelve of our hours. So I should be getting back to you within four.”

He closed the connection, and leaned his head on the console a moment. He had promised himself that when the crisis was over, when Turek had been defeated, and ISC was on firm ground, and his father recovered…he would go and find Ky Vatta, explain why he’d acted the way he had on Cascadia, see if she could forgive him. Now it was too late. That could never happen. His future lay before him, one bleak stretch of unpleasant duty, to the end of his days.

He sat up, shook his head sharply, and composed himself as well as he could. He had acted so many parts in his life; he could do it now. When he went back upstairs, Penny and Emil were finishing dessert, still chatting about music and musicians.

“I’m sorry it took so long,” Rafe said, forcing a smile. “ISC fleet problems, Emil. I’m afraid I must ask you to meet me at the office; I’ll take Penny home first.”

“Of course,” Emil said.

Once more in the car, Rafe turned his face away from Penny’s; he wasn’t sure he could control it.

“It was a lovely dinner, Rafe,” Penelope said. “I’m glad you organized it.”

“Glad you enjoyed it,” Rafe said. Outside the car, the world was dark and wet and cold, but inside…inside was too small, stuffy. He wanted to throw open the door, jump out, take his chances out there, with risks he understood, on his own again. “So did you and Emil have a nice chat while I was gone?”

“Do you want me to marry him?” Penelope asked.

He turned to stare at her, her profile outlined against the faint glow of late-night street lighting. “Marry him? Whatever made you think I did?”

“Only that you’ve had him hovering over me since the first day you brought me into the company. Only that you keep telling me how responsible he is, how reliable, how honest, how unlike Parmina.”

“I only wanted you to feel safe, Penny,” Rafe said. Safe with someone other than him. And she had sensed that, sensed that withdrawal he had hoped never to reveal to her.

“I’m not upset,” Penny said. “Don’t worry…I just want you to understand that although Emil is a nice fellow, I’m not nearly ready to think about marrying anyone.”

“That’s good,” Rafe said. “Since I told him not to make any moves in that direction.”

She gave a little chuckle, the most relaxed laugh he had heard from her since the rescue. “I wondered…there he was, always ready to be an escort, to take over for you, but…I was beginning to wonder if he thought I was ugly or something. You scared him.”

“I…” He had meant to scare Emil; in the mood he’d been in, back then, he’d been willing to scare anyone.

“Rafe…we need to talk.”

His heart sank. What now? What little-sisterly problem or plan needed his attention now? With an invasion on the way, with Ky lost, with his enemies on the Board and in the government constantly looking for reasons and ways to bring him down. He forced a smile to his lips, and gentleness into his voice.

“What’s the problem? What do you need?”

“You,” she said. “You are the problem.”

“Me? What have I done?” He tried for lightness, but he couldn’t help thinking
After all I’ve done
…

“Rafe, you’re on the edge. I don’t know if others can tell yet, but I can. You’re working so hard to be so good, so professional-business-steady-upright…and you’re a good actor, I’ll say that for you. You can’t be this good all the time without going crazy,” Penelope said.

It took his breath away; how had Penelope, of all people, caught on to that? “I’m doing the best I can,” he said after a moment.

“I know. And you’re doing wonderfully. But for—how many years—you did what you pleased, good or bad. I don’t mean you were bad the way Parmina said—I don’t believe that for a moment. But you were free; you could go anywhere; you could be anybody. And ever since you’ve come back, you’ve been tied down here, to family and business—”

Just what he was thinking; just what he must not think. Not now, in this crisis. Not now, when the escape hatch he’d promised himself was gone forever.

“You’re very good at it, but you can’t keep it up forever.”

“When Father’s better,” Rafe said. Even to himself, his voice sounded unconvincing.

“He’ll never be better,” Penny said. “You know that; we read the reports and you explained them. And even if he were, the Board won’t trust him, not now.”

“They don’t entirely trust me,” Rafe said. Even Vaclav Box, who did trust him—or seemed to—was chafing at the changes Rafe had made. “You know what they told me about the alliance with the Moscoe Confederation, on account of the Vattas.”

“No, but you’re strong enough to handle them. He won’t be. He never had to fight a contrary Board the way you have. Only…I can’t see you doing it forever. Or really, for much longer.”

“I have to,” Rafe said. “There’s no one else…” He felt squeezed; he could scarcely breathe.

“If you had her,” Penelope said.

“Who?” The pressure increased, the sense of time passing, time lost, things that would never be.

“Don’t be stupid!” She punched him lightly in the arm. “You know perfectly well who…Ky Vatta. She sounds like another adventurer, like you…” Now her voice was a little wistful. She had come so far, recovered so much, but even as a child she had not been the most daring of his siblings, and he could not see her as an adventurer.

“She’s busy,” Rafe said, the first thing he could think of. He did not want to tell Penny that Ky was dead, not now. He needed time to grieve by himself. Time he wasn’t going to have, he could see. “So am I. We may never meet again…if…”

“If she gets killed. True. So you ought to tell her.”

“Penny—!”

“Rafe, I’m not saying this just as your little sister, but as a woman—a woman who has been married. It’s stupid to waste more time. You love her, don’t you?”

“I don’t…know.”

“Oh, please! You do, and it’s obvious enough that all the anti-Vatta people guessed it, are still gossiping about it, worrying…you might just as well admit it, jump into the fire, and come out with the horseshoe.”

That reference to the old children’s story made him laugh even in his anguish. “You think I can talk my way past the fire demons?”

“I think you have to do something—you have to tell her, you have to tell the others to go…jump in the ice pit or something.”