“At least it’s not boring,” Rafe said one day, when they were hunched over the table eating a hasty meal after two hours of struggle to control an imaginary flood. “The man shows real creativity in his approach to drills, I’ll say that for him.”
“Thank you,” Hugh said, coming in behind them. “And I’m pleased to report, Captain, that performance has been steadily improving, reaching commendable on the past three drills. With the captain’s permission, I’d like to let up now. I think they need a reward for good work.”
“You have the captain’s permission,” Ky said. “The captain would like a full night’s sleep—or any shift’s sleep—so I don’t get to Sallyon looking like this—” She gestured at herself.
“The captain is always impeccable,” Hugh said. She gave him a look. “And diligent as well,” he added. “Some captains would’ve told me to lay off days ago; I appreciate your willingness to let me push this crew to a higher standard.”
“You’re welcome,” Ky said. “And I appreciate the work you put into this.”
“Mutual admiration,” Rafe murmured and rolled his eyes. Hugh looked at him with a mild expression that seemed to convey something far less than mild; Rafe suddenly turned red and got up hastily.
“Interesting young man, that,” Hugh said to Ky.
“Very,” Ky said. “My cousin Stella knew him awhile back; he showed up with her at Lastway.”
“He is…er…attached to her?”
“No. At least, I don’t think so. They had a legal partnership; I had one with him myself after Lastway, because Stella said he would honor a partnership.”
“Is it operative now?”
“No, it’s long run out. I forgot to renew it.”
“And yet he chose to be on this ship with you. Interesting.”
“He had the expertise with communications systems,” Ky said. “I needed him.”
“Ah.” Now the mild look was turned on her. “He’s quite good looking.”
“Not you, too,” Ky said. When he said nothing, she went on. “Martin worries all the time that I’ll fall for him or something. I won’t. He’s not my kind.” If she had a kind, which with Hal’s defection she wasn’t sure of. “I’m going to bed,” Ky said. “And I would appreciate it if there were no surprise drills for the next eight hours.”
“Certainly not, Captain,” Hugh said. She hoped that was not a twinkle in his eye.
Three days later, they dropped into the Sallyon system and eased in toward the Sallyon Main Station.
Sallyon had placed a remote surveillance station only fifteen light-seconds from its mapped jump point; Fair Kaleen no sooner cleared downjump turbulence that Ky found herself facing a Sallyon Immigration Control official onscreen.
“Sallyon inbound clearance station to arriving vessel. Confirm beacon ID, owner of vessel ID, commanding officer ID, last port of call, ansible status at last port of call. All vessels must have clearance from this station before proceeding to Sallyon Main Station.” Along with that came a datastring for the ship pilot, directing the rate of deceleration and course.
“Shipname is Fair Kaleen,” Ky said. “Owner, Vatta Enterprises. Captain, Kylara Vatta—”
“Our records show this vessel’s captain should be Osman Vatta. Explain this discrepancy.”
“Osman Vatta was a pirate,” Ky said. “He stole this ship from Vatta Transport. You should have a warning on file from Vatta repudiating ownership and responsibility for Osman Vatta—”
“We do.”
“Osman Vatta is dead,” Ky said. “I should be on your list as captain of either Glennys Jones or Gary Tobai, depending on your latest update information before the ansible troubles—”
“Er…yes.”
“This ship, Fair Kaleen, is now returned to the Vatta Transport list; in order to prevent confusion, I intend to re-register it under a new name.”
The face on the screen looked both confused and cross. “But who are you? What authority do you have?”
“I’m Kylara Vatta,” Ky said. “My father was Gerard Vatta, chief financial officer of Vatta Enterprises, which included Vatta Transport, Ltd. That list from Vatta should have included a brief bio and visual—”
“Well…yes…but what are you doing with that ship? How did you get it?”
“My cousin Stella and I have been authorized by Vatta headquarters—” If any such thing still existed. “—to reestablish Vatta trading routes and recover any Vatta ships we can locate. I also hold a letter of marque from Slotter Key, which authorizes me to take prizes. Osman is dead; this was a Vatta ship until he stole it; I have returned it to Vatta service.”
“It’s an armed vessel,” the officer said.
“Yes, of course,” Ky said. “Osman was a pirate.”
“You haven’t disarmed it.”
“No. As I said, I hold a letter of marque—”
“Your weapons must be locked down and sealed; we must inspect the seals. An inspection team will board before you dock at the station.”
“Of course,” Ky said.
“Now—what was the ansible status at Rosvirein when you left?”
“The ansibles at Rosvirein were working while we were docked there, but we left because we were informed by Rosvirein authorities that a threat existed, and we observed a ship apparently heading for their financial ansible just before transition to jump.”
“Do you have any recorded evidence of this?”
“I can make a copy of our scan log,” Ky said. “There was some exchange of fire—”
“How many invaders?”
“Three ships came through in formation; that’s when Rosvirein advised all outsystem ships at the station they must either leave or stay for the duration of whatever happened. I chose to leave; I’d been caught in trouble before, at Sabine. Rosvirein had their own ships shadowing the first three, and everyone else had been told to lock down their weapons and stay out of the way. We were a little more than a day out of Rosvirein Main Station when four more ships jumped in and fired on one of the Rosvirein defense batteries. Then one of the ships in the departing line veered off and appeared to be headed for the financial ansible. That’s all I know.”
The man grimaced. “I doubt that. Someone like you, in a ship like that…all right, I’ll give your ship provisional clearance to our main station; you’ll have to halt ten thousand kilometers out for boarding by a weapons inspection team. Resistance to boarding will be interpreted as hostile intent, and you will be subject to severe measures…is that clear?”
“I’m not going to object to your weapons team inspection,” Ky said. “I already told you that.”
“Then you will be cleared for docking, but I warn you, you had better stay out of trouble. We don’t tolerate subversives.”
“Subversives?”
“Half the rabble we get from Rosvirein are troublemakers,” the man said. “Organized crime is rife over there; pirates come and go without hindrance. You say you are legitimate but you’re in a very dubious position, Captain Vatta.”
“I’m not your enemy,” Ky said. “The pirates are my enemies; they killed my parents; they tried to destroy my family’s business.”
He didn’t respond to that, but continued. “Your ship’s navigational computer has received the assigned course data. Proceed.”
As ordered, Fair Kaleen slowed to a crawl and finally parked at zero relative velocity to the weapons inspection team’s shuttle. Ky extended the new docking tube that had been replaced along with the air lock, and aired it up; a team of eight came aboard. Sealing the weapons took almost two hours, but the inspection team, unlike the Customs officer, showed no excessive suspicion. “Welcome to Sallyon, then,” their officer said as he prepared to take his team back to their shuttle. “Local Traffic Control will guide you in.”
Onstation formalities, once they were docked, went smoothly. Clearly trade was down; the station wasn’t crowded with ships, and they had been assigned a berth in a section normally reserved
for passenger liners “to balance mass,” as the stationmaster explained. Ky looked over the list of ships onstation, and was startled to notice one with Slotter Key registry: Sharra’s Gift, commanded by an N. W. Argelos. Maybe it would have news from home.
_______
The officer at the head of the ship’s gangway had a very military set to his shoulders; the crew were brisk and businesslike.
Ky walked up to the dockside barrier, gave her name, and asked to speak to the captain.
The young woman with the compad looked her up and down and called to the man at the gangway. “Visitor to see the captain.”
He came nearer. “Your business, please?”
Ky felt herself straightening even more. “My name is Ky Vatta; we just arrived from Rosvirein. I’m from Slotter Key and saw that this ship also carried Slotter Key registry. I’d like to meet with your captain to exchange information important to our system.”
“Vatta, eh? How long have you been away from Slotter Key?”
“I lifted from home on seventeen Berith, last year,” she said. “I know about the attacks on Vatta headquarters and personnel; my father—Gerard Vatta, the CFO—was killed along with my mother when our home was destroyed.”
“I see. Wait here, please; I’ll contact our captain.” He touched his temple, indicating an implant call. Ky eyed the dockside. Sharra’s Gift was onloading sealed pallets that looked remarkably like arms. “You can come aboard,” the officer said. “Captain Argelos will see you, but he can give you only a half hour.”
“Thank you,” Ky said. She nodded to the Slotter Key flag painted beside the hatch; inside, a young woman waited to lead her to the bridge.
Captain Argelos was a thickset man near her father’s age, black hair streaked heavily with white. “So you’re Gerry’s daughter,” he said, shaking his head. “That was a bad business, the attack on your family. My condolences, Captain.”
Tears stung her eyes; she blinked them back. It was the first time anyone had said the conventional words, offered the conventional sympathy. “Thank you,” she said.
He sat in silence a moment, looking to one side. Then he nodded, as if coming to some conclusion. “It has made us all nervous,” he went on. “To think that our Spaceforce could not protect our citizens on our home planet—”
“I can imagine,” Ky said.
“I don’t know—Vatta has never been part of—but are you aware of Slotter Key’s privateer program?”
“Yes,” Ky said and offered an explanation she hoped would make sense to him. “I was at the Spaceforce Academy before I joined the family business.”
“Ah,” he said. “Then you know that Slotter Key privateers operate most of the time as ordinary traders or freight carriers. Pirates never knew where we were, how many we were, or which we were. We have broad discretionary powers, and we carry sufficient weaponry to make us a match for most pirates. But now…it’s clear that something has changed, that pirates are operating in larger groups.”
“You’re telling me that you yourself are a privateer?” Ky said.
“Yes, I am,” he said. “I am trusting you with this information, to explain why, although we share the same flag, I cannot afford to be associated with you at this difficult time.” He sighed, and rubbed one hand over his hair. “When the trouble started, I wanted to offer assistance to any Vatta ship we met—serve as an escort, lend some of our personnel for security duties and the like—but my Spaceforce adviser argued against it. Strongly. We were here to protect Slotter Key shipping, I said to him, but he said that was the wrong way.”
“And what did he say was the right way?” Ky asked, keeping her voice light. Was this man’s Spaceforce adviser in league with the enemy?
“Hunting for the pirates,” he said. “Which we did. We found some, too, but they were in numbers we couldn’t match. Nor can you, Captain Vatta. It’s suicide to try. If all of us—all the Slotter Key privateers, that is—were a single fleet, it would still be risky.”
“Space warfare is always risky,” Ky said from a dry mouth. “But sometimes it’s necessary.” She drew a deep breath. “So—you have information about the way the pirates are operating now?”
“Yes. Unfortunately, I have no way to get it to Slotter Key, with the ansibles down, other than going there. Without guidance from the government my options are limited—”
“What about other privateers? Do you know where they are? What they know?” Despite herself, she could hear in her voice a rising excitement.
“No…we use commercial ansibles to communicate, the same as everyone else. Two ports back I ran into another of us, but he didn’t know any more than I did.”
“You didn’t think of working together, combining your forces?”
“Two of us against pirate fleets that might be as big as fifteen or twenty? What good would that do? If we can get in touch with Slotter Key again…when the ansibles come back up…if ISC can even do that much…” He scrubbed at his hair again, a man clearly nearing the end of his rope.
“Who’s your adviser?” Ky asked. “Maybe it’s someone I knew—”
“I don’t know if I should tell you. I’ll have to talk to him. I think I’ll just go home, see what the government says. If they want us to combine—”
“If they’re not compromised,” Ky said.
“Compromised?” His brows rose.
“You said yourself it bothered you that they weren’t able to protect citizens onplanet. What that says to me is that someone got to the government at some level. Someone wasn’t doing their job. Perhaps someone didn’t want to do their job.”
He scowled at her. “That’s—you’re asking me to believe that the government wanted Vatta attacked?”
“Not officially, no. But pressure could have been applied. What if someone knew about the change in pirate tactics, knew that Slotter Key’s insystem defense couldn’t stand against a pirate fleet, and was offered the choice—sacrifice one family, or lose everything—”
“That couldn’t…” His voice trailed away; he looked down. When he looked at her again, his eyes were troubled. “Is our local defense really that weak?”
“Ask your adviser,” Ky said. “But it’s not just Slotter Key’s problem. Ansibles are down all over; other governments may be under pressure.” She stopped, switching internal gears. “Did you ever hear of a pirate named Gammis?”
His expression changed. “Gammis? Gammis Turek? Nasty fellow, that one. Ten, twelve years ago we almost got him ourselves, but he got away. Left us a message at the next station we came to, threatening all sorts of things. I didn’t pay much attention—we’d won, after all—but I started hearing things from other captains. Two years later, one of my crew turned up missing, and four days later station police found the body. Flayed. With a recording of what had been done stuffed in the mouth. Others have had similar experiences after a run-in with him.”
“I think he’s behind this,” Ky said. “We had a renegade Vatta—a distant cousin of mine, ousted from the family. He stole one of our ships—”
“Osman Vatta,” Argelos said, nodding. “We knew about him; your family put out a bulletin years ago.”
“He came after me,” Ky said. “Vengeance on my father and uncle; I think he’s the source of the attacks on Vatta—the reason for choosing Vatta, I mean. But he wasn’t working alone. He was under someone else, and I think that someone else was named Gammis.”
“I suppose that could be,” he said. “What made you suspect Gammis?”
“After Osman died,” Ky said, “I started looking for the person behind him…”
“Osman’s dead? How did that happen?”
“I killed him,” Ky said. “Surely you recognized the ship I came in on.”
A slow flush rose to Argelos’ cheeks. “Yes, but—”
“And you must have wondered if another Vatta had gone renegade, if I was perhaps his daughter or something—”
“Not after learning you were Gerry’s daughter,?
?? he said. “But…yes. That’s certainly what my adviser thought.”
“I can’t imagine any reason for attacking only Vattas—and attacking them so thoroughly, in so many places—other than personal grudge. At any rate, when Osman and I met up, I was able to kill him and capture his ship.”
He nodded. “Where did you have it adjudicated? Any problems with the courts?”
“I claimed it as a prize,” Ky said. His eyes widened; she grinned, enjoying his shock. “I have a letter of marque, too, Captain Argelos. I don’t know why, or how, but it was waiting for me on Lastway.”
“But Vattas have never been privateers—”
“I know. But there it is, so I took over Fair Kaleen as my prize.”
“And no one gave you trouble about it?”
She wasn’t going to talk about Garth-Lindheimer. “They weren’t too happy at Rosvirein, but they agreed it was legal. And business is business.”
“This is a dangerous time, Captain Vatta,” Argelos said. “I don’t think business as usual is a good model. I will consult with my adviser and be in contact, but do not expect much, would be my advice. I believe he would have doubts about the validity of your letter of marque, as, quite frankly, do I.” His expression made it clear that was the end of his patience.
“You can come aboard and look at it,” Ky said. “Thank you for your time, Captain Argelos. I hope to hear from you soon.”
A few hours later, Argelos contacted her and asked permission to come to her ship. Ky agreed willingly, hoping this meant a positive response. When he came aboard, his face showed no warmth.
“My Spaceforce adviser thinks you’re crazy,” Argelos said. “Just out for revenge for your parents’ deaths. I told him what you said, and he swears your letter of marque must be forged. Vattas were never privateers, he says, just as I said.”