“K atrine Lamont is approaching dock,” the stationmaster said. “We’ve assigned docking nearby, but not on the same branch.”

“Thank you,” Ky said.

“Captain Furman remains convinced that you are not Kylara Vatta, daughter of Gerard Vatta, legitimate employee of Vatta Transport. We understand that he has been in communication with Stella Vatta, who now styles herself acting CEO of Vatta Transport. Do you dispute that?”

What was Stella playing at? They had not discussed how to organize the company in the future, and with only the one ship it seemed unnecessary to formalize anything. She’d suggested that Stella act as her financial officer, but CEO? “Dispute that she has been in communication with Captain Furman? No, why would I? I suggested it.”

“That she is acting CEO of Vatta,” the stationmaster said.

“We haven’t discussed what our positions may be,” Ky said. “Her father was CEO and mine was CFO. I’d have thought her expertise ran more to financial affairs, but we’ll thrash that out later. Why?”

“For our purposes, we must know which of you is senior to the other. Organizationally, I mean; we already know she’s older than your stated age. Which of you is in charge?”

The first half dozen answers that raced through Ky’s mind were all unsuitable. She hoped her face hadn’t revealed them. “I believe that’s something Stella and I should settle between ourselves,” she said. “I’ll contact her now, if you’ll excuse me. Thank you.” Before he could answer, she closed the connection.

Gary Tobai was now within ten light-minutes, but Ky wasn’t going to wait for the signal lag of lightspeed communication; she used the system ansible instead.

Stella answered the hail; she had evidently been expecting a call from someone else, because her expression changed when she saw Ky. Beside her was a man in a captain’s uniform; this must be the “Balthazar” she’d spoken of.

“I was going to call you,” Stella began.

“I just heard from the stationmaster that you’re the acting CEO of Vatta Transport,” Ky said. She could not keep the edge out of her voice; she knew she sounded angry. She was angry.

Stella waved her hand. “I had to say something,” she said. “I thought it sounded impressive. And after all—”

“I thought we agreed, back on Lastway, to reverse our fathers’ roles,” Ky said. “I’ve been telling people you’re my chief financial officer—”

“And you’ve been claiming the CEO title?” Stella had flushed a little; her eyes sparkled. “Don’t you think that’s a little presumptuous, with senior Vatta family members alive on Slotter Key?”

“You just did it,” Ky said. “I don’t see that’s any less presumptuous.”

“I’m older,” Stella said. “And my father was CEO—”

“Not to intrude or anything,” Rafe said. Ky turned to look at him; he had positioned himself so the communications monitor would include him. “But the two of you can argue about this later, surely. The more delay, the more the stationmaster will suspect something’s wrong with both your identities.”

Stella opened her mouth but Ky was faster. “Joint,” she said quickly. “We’re joint acting CEOs, a necessity in this present emergency. It’s so if either ship is destroyed, the company has a clear chain of command.”

“That might work,” Stella said.

“We’ll both call the stationmaster,” Ky said. “Hold this link. I’ll call him and make it a circuit call.” Stella didn’t look enthusiastic, but Ky didn’t care. She was not going to put herself under Stella’s command. She keyed in the stationmaster’s code, identified herself to his assistant, and he came on.

“I thought you’d like to hear this from both of us,” Ky said. “You must understand that the situation is complicated by the fact that we’re both ship-based right now, since Vatta headquarters was destroyed, and the ansibles are down most places.”

“The thing is,” Stella put in, “we’re both acting as CEO for the time being. It’s a safety issue; should one of our ships be lost, the other has a clear line of succession. We’ve had to operate in different systems, out of contact with each other since the ansibles were down.”

“Co-CEOs?” the stationmaster said. “I don’t think I’ve heard of that.”

“It won’t last,” Ky said. “It’s an emergency measure.”

“But—who’s really in charge? If you’re both in the same system, as now, who is senior? I presume you don’t always agree—”

Stella chuckled. “No, indeed. But if we need to, we go into closed session and argue it out. Ky’s better at some things—she has more ship and actual trade experience—and I’m better at others—I have more experience at headquarters. We are, after all, on the same side.”

“I see,” the stationmaster said. “But Captain Vatta—Kylara Vatta—when I first told you that Stella Vatta was saying she was acting CEO, you seemed surprised and upset.”

“Frankly, I’d assumed that if we were both in the same system, the first to arrive would use the title and the second wouldn’t—just to avoid the kind of confusion we have here. But we hadn’t discussed it, so we didn’t have policy set up.” Ky put on her blandest expression.

“It just didn’t occur to me,” Stella said, with equal blandness. “I’d gotten used to using it because we were separated.”

“I see,” the stationmaster said again. Ky was not at all sure he believed them. “So…in this instance, with you, Captain Vatta, being the first to reach the system, would you say that you are in charge?”

“Yes,” Ky said, before Stella could answer. “Though I do consider Stella my partner, not my subordinate.”

“And that’s agreeable to you?” the stationmaster asked Stella.

Stella nodded. “Quite agreeable,” she said. Ky detected, in that, the exact opposite meaning and hoped the stationmaster didn’t.

“Very well, then,” the stationmaster said. “I must remind both of you that there is a question of identity relating to Kylara Vatta, as Captain Furman has charged that she is not really Kylara Vatta, but an imposter.”

“I don’t agree,” Stella said. “Obviously, I think he’s wrong. But I would prefer to leave him in doubt of my opinion, since I want to know why he’s so sure, and what his motives are.”

“Ah. You haven’t told him you’re sure he’s wrong?”

“I’ve listened to him,” Stella said.

“Do you think he has committed some offense?”

“I don’t know,” Stella said. “I will say I found his attempt to discredit my cousin surprising in someone whose record as a loyal employee is exemplary.”

“So you have no complaints against him at this time?”

“Other than his error, no,” Stella said.

“Do you have any proof, other than your word, that this is in fact your cousin? Any genetic material we could compare, for instance?”

“No. Other than my own, of course. Though I do have, on my ship, an elderly crew member who knows her very well. Would her testimony be pertinent?”

“Yes, but probably not conclusive.” The stationmaster sighed. “Your genetic material will probably serve, since Captain Furman has yet to question your identity. You are now what…fourteen days from docking, I believe?”

“Yes,” Stella said.

“I had hoped for a quicker resolution,” the stationmaster said. “I’m sorry,” he said to Ky, “that you must be under surveillance for so long.”

Ky shrugged. “It’s not your fault, and this ship isn’t as cramped as Stella’s.”

“I’m glad you see it that way,” the stationmaster said. “Excuse me, please: I have other messages coming in.”

“Of course,” Ky said. His link closed; she looked at Stella in the monitor. “Well?”

“He’s still suspicious,” Stella said. She sighed. “Ky, I wish you could stay out of trouble in one system, at least.”

“It’s not my fault,” Ky said. “It’s that idiot Furman.”

“It wasn’t Furman at Sallyon. Or Rosvirein or Garth-Lindheimer.”

“You’re not blaming me for Garth-Lindheimer, surely! I didn’t do anything there but refuse to waste time and money dragging through their court system.”

“You left me to clean up your mess,” Stella said. “Short-crewed and with no clear directions.”

“I didn’t think you needed directions—if you recall you told me you didn’t. If you’re co-acting-CEO—”

Stella glared out of the screen. “I handled it, yes. That doesn’t mean I liked being left behind like that. And then I get to Rosvirein and you’re already gone and there’s a missing person bulletin. Are you going to tell me you had nothing to do with that?”

Crossing mental fingers, Ky said, “Why would you think a missing person was my fault?”

“Why? Because who else would abduct someone like that—the bulletin said he was casual laborer suspected of working with local criminal elements and even pirates. You’re the pirate hunter: isn’t that just what you’d do?”

It’s what she’d done, but telling Stella that she’d let Rafe and Martin question the man and he’d died and she’d spaced his body once she was far enough from the station would only escalate the fight that now seemed inevitable.

“I’m sorry you think that,” Ky said, struggling to sound calm yet serious.

Stella pursed her lips, then her mouth tightened. “You’ve changed, Ky. You’re not being straight with me, I can tell that much. We’re going to have a serious talk when I get to the station. I want to know where your priorities are.”

“Where they’ve always been,” Ky said. She felt tired, as if she were suddenly in a higher gravity field. It was unfair for Stella to distrust her this way, to question her motives and priorities. “I want Vatta to survive and our enemies to fall.”

“I wonder,” Stella said, and cut the connection.

Ky slumped into her seat. She’d thought Stella was over whatever had her upset when she first came into the system. She had backed Ky with the stationmaster. Yet clearly she wasn’t satisfied.

“Problem?” Hugh asked.

“Stella,” Ky said. “I suppose it’s old family rivalry or something.”

“It would’ve made sense for her to say she was acting CEO—”

“Yes,” Ky said. “I can understand that. I just wish she’d told me. If we’d had our stories straight…and then she’s got this thing about my priorities. You’d think I’d gone off on a vacation or something…”

“Families.” Rafe shook his head. “You can’t live—”

“If you say Can’t live with them, can’t live without them, I will—” Ky noticed the bridge crew watching this interaction. “—be extremely displeased,” she finished.

“I wasn’t going to,” Rafe said, with a blatantly false expression of innocence. “I was merely going to say that…that—”

“Yes?”

“You can’t live with their expectations. Not forever.” He smirked. “Stella’s certainly sitting close to that new guy, isn’t she?”

“Her shipmaster, she calls him. She’s still calling herself captain.”

“Well, she is. Technically.”

“I suppose.” Ky sat up straighter. “Fourteen days until she docks. I think I’ll go work out. I don’t want to get soft.”


_______

Stella managed to keep her face bland until she was in her cabin. She turned up the soundscreens to full strength and let loose with every blistering oath she could think of. Thanks to Rafe, she could go on for quite a stretch without repeating herself, and she did, ending with “…stupid little prig!” Even alone in her cabin, that seemed too tame an ending for what she felt. “Blast you!” she said to the walls. “As if I weren’t older than you. More experienced than you. I’m not the one who alienated an entire system…and you have the nerve to humiliate me in front of the stationmaster. And Rafe was there listening, I’m sure, soaking it up, never happier than seeing families quarrel.” She threw the pillow off her bed at the wall. It did no good, but it did no harm. “Maybe in fourteen days I won’t want to kill you on sight,” she said, more quietly.

Then her lip curled involuntarily and a ripple of laughter shook her. No. It wasn’t funny, or if it was funny, she wasn’t ready to see it yet.


_______

She had as much information about Furman as Ky did, barring Ky’s two encounters with the man. If she figured out what his game was before Ky did, that would restore her credit—in her own mind at least. Although she did not have the information in her own father’s implant, she did have the updates Grace had given her, including financial and personnel data current as of the destruction of headquarters. She pored over it.

Furman had been with the company twenty-nine years. He had been hired away from an insystem carrier in another system, when a Vatta captain died, along with many others, in an epidemic. It had been quicker to hire him and get the ship moving again than to send someone out to take over. He had satisfactory reports, and steady promotions, until he reached senior captain. Stella paused. His personnel record had a mark she didn’t recognize, a typographical squiggle with no explanation, one year after his promotion to senior captain. She shrugged and went on reading.

Furman continued to accumulate good reports and promotions to increasingly lucrative routes. His on-time and early-delivery record was the best in the company; he had received commendations and bonuses. Then, less than a standard year ago, he had been sent to Sabine to find and assist Ky. Immediately after that, he had been transferred to this route, on the far side of Vatta’s operating territory.

Stella paused again. Something was wrong. Why would such a good employee, so diligent, so valuable to the company, so well compensated, be transferred here? He wouldn’t ask for such a transfer; it was against the pattern she saw in his record, the pattern of cautious but determined ambition. He must have done something, and logically that something involved Ky. He’d known her before; she hadn’t liked him. Perhaps the dislike was mutual? But surely he wouldn’t have said anything about it, even if it was. He was mature, experienced, socially adept as any trader must be; such a man would not risk his career to complain about his employer’s daughter. What could have happened? Had Ky complained about him to her father?

Nothing showed up in the files that her implant carried. She racked her own memory of that period. She’d been away on company business; she hadn’t even known Ky was in the Sabine system until after the ansibles were back up, and Ky was on her way somewhere else. Her father had given no details, beyond the fact that Ky had been there, had been injured but was now fine, and the crisis was over. Nothing about Furman, nothing at all.

That in itself was strange. Usually he told her family news right away. She’d known the same day when Ky left the Academy; he’d told her everything he knew, or found out, in the days after Ky left on her voyage. That’s why she’d written the note, in a flush of sympathy, imagining how the perfect daughter, the one always in control, must feel such a disgrace. Why hadn’t her father told her about Furman being sent to help Ky, and what went wrong, and that Furman had been transferred to another route?

Had it been to protect Ky? Had Ky complained for no reason, slandered Furman? Furman could indeed be irritating; she’d seen that for herself, but she could not imagine anything he could have done to deserve being yanked off one of the best routes in the Vatta system and sent to another, as far from headquarters as possible.

She wondered if Ky would tell her the truth about it, if asked. Then she remembered that Quincy had been aboard at the time.

“Furman was furious,” Quincy said when asked what had happened. “He was angry about being pulled off his route to come to Sabine, that I could understand. But he started scolding the captain as if she were a naughty child, instead of a grown woman who had done very well in a difficult and dangerous situation.”

“Scolded her…you’re sure he did, and that wasn’t just her interpretation?”

“I’m sure,” Quincy said. “I wasn’t on the bridge to hear it, but Lee was, and the Mackensee communications tech they had aboard. Furman laid into her in a white fury, told her she had ruined the company’s reputation and cost it millions, and so forth and so on. He wanted her to let him sell off the ship for scrap—”

“This ship?”

“This ship, yes. We needed repairs, true enough, but it wasn’t beyond repair, as you can see. Ky had cargo to take to Belinta, and cargo at Belinta bound for the next stops, but Furman wanted her to come aboard with the crew, and he’d pick up and deliver the Belinta cargo.”

“Is that what she was supposed to do?”

“No. Not according to the sealed message her father sent with Furman. Furman was just there to render aid. It was his idea to take over and treat her like an idiot. Ky wouldn’t put up with it, naturally. She told us all what he wanted and what she was going to do instead, and offered to let any of the crew who wanted leave with Furman.”

“So…did she complain to her father about Furman? Is that why he’s out here, and not on the Beulah Road route?”

Quincy shook her head. “She couldn’t have complained if she’d wanted to; remember, the Sabine ansible platforms had been blown up. ISC brought in repair crews, but no private ansible communications were permitted; we left before the repairs were done.”

“It just doesn’t sound like Furman, from his record,” Stella said. “I don’t understand—”

“He’s got something of a reputation,” Quincy said. “He’s a good captain, right enough: a stickler for safety, for efficiency. Excellent on-time delivery stats. But he can be a petty tyrant with his crew, especially the lower grades. Mostly he’s just kind of prissy, but every once in a while he blows up. You know he courted a Vatta girl once, years back…”

“What?” That was the last thing she’d expected to hear.

“Oh, yes. Up-and-coming young captain, rapid promotions for efficiency. Met—what was her name? I can’t quite remember. Harmon’s oldest daughter—”

“Mellicent,” Stella said. “What year was it?”

“Let me think. It’s twenty years ago, about, but I’m not sure. Anyway, he asked permission to court her—he didn’t grow up on Slotter Key, you can tell—and her father said yes, but he thought she might already have formed an attachment. As polite a warning as he could give, but Furman didn’t understand it. Mellicent was a typical Vatta, headstrong and impatient. She had that intense, energetic kind of dark beauty, nothing at all like you, but attractive to a lot of men. Furman sent her a careful progression of gifts: the birthday card, then the flowers, then the box of candy, and so forth. Everything perfectly conventional and respectful. Then he began to ask her out. She went with him to a provincial fair, but he got sick on one of the carnival rides. After that, she always had an excuse, but he still didn’t take the hint.”

“I never imagined Furman as a suitor,” Stella said. “Ambitious, wasn’t he?”

“I don’t know,” Quincy said. “Vatta girls have to marry outside the family, after all, and a loyal, efficient, up-and-coming captain isn’t that bad a choice. Other captains had taken her out. Of course, they took her dancing and sky-sailing and reef-diving, not to a poky agricultural fair.”

“So she didn’t encourage him.”

“No. In fact, he came back from a voyage to find she’d married in the meantime, not a word to him about it.”

Stella checked the date of Mellicent’s marriage in her files. About a year after that mysterious symbol in Furman’s personnel record. Did it mark the start of his unsuccessful courtship? “How did you know all this?” she asked.

Quincy gave a small snort. “That kind of thing travels faster than light. Employees marrying into the family was nothing new, but it was always good for gossip. Besides, while Furman was a good captain, he wasn’t that popular.”

“A reason for him to be bitter…I wonder why he stayed with the company. A man of his qualifications could find a place somewhere else.”

“Yes, but we do—did—have one of the most generous compensation packages in the industry. You know Vatta’s never had a problem hiring away from other firms; people want to work for Vatta. Wanted to.”

“I suppose. I wonder if he took against Ky because of that. Mellicent was dark; Ky is dark.”

“Maybe. I think he’s just one of those sour people who would rather complain than change things.”

“But then, if Ky didn’t complain to her father, why was Furman transferred?”

“My guess is that he said something to her father, something her father took amiss. I don’t know, though. It’s all guesswork, and we’ll never know unless Furman tells us.”

“Which is about as likely as time running backward,” Stella said. It sounded as if Furman was an unlikely ally, though. If he blamed Ky for his transfer, then maybe that’s why he was trying to discredit her, claim she was an imposter. “Did Osman have any children that you know of?” she asked Quincy.

“Children? Not that I ever heard of. Why?”

“This claim Furman’s making that Ky isn’t our Ky, that she’s one of Osman’s children and her appearance with his ship is part of some plot of Osman’s—it doesn’t sound like the sort of thing he’d have the wits to invent, if it was known Osman had none. You never heard any rumors of anything like that?”

“Nothing,” Quincy said. “Osman was a sexual predator; everyone who came near him knew that much. But that doesn’t mean he had children, or children he’d acknowledge.”

Stella didn’t mention the information in the family files. “If you didn’t know, I wonder how Furman heard about them.”

Quincy looked thoughtful. “That’s…an interesting question. Assuming there are any such children. And even if they’re not, why would he pick on that explanation for Ky faking an identity?”

“It makes me wonder if Furman had any dealings with Osman,” Stella said. “The Beulah Road route…I think I’d better look that up.”

“You don’t think there’s any truth in it…”

“Of course not,” Stella said. “Ky is entirely too irritating to be anyone but herself.”


_______

The Beulah Road route as outlined in the Vatta Transport Manual was a five-stop circuit, named for the first system after its intersection with the Congrove. Beulah Road, Planters Rest, Arlene, Hope Landing, New Jamaica. One intermediate jump point between Beulah Road and Planters Rest, two between Planters Rest and Arlene, two again between Arlene and Hope Landing, three between New Jamaica and Beulah Road. The standard time en route, per section, compared with Furman’s reported times was…very interesting.

Furman made up one day on the Beulah Road–Planters Rest leg; he had been in a day early 95 percent of the time for the past ten standard years. Well-organized ships could do that, with fine-tuning of the drives and a little higher fuel consumption to allow a faster run-in and thus require more deceleration near their goal. He spent that extra day in port, keeping precisely to Vatta’s timetable so that shippers could rely on him. His times on the second and third legs were very good indeed, indicative of an efficiently run ship; he rarely made up a complete day unless he had an early-delivery bonus pending. Then he might show up two or even three days early. But on the fourth leg, with three intermediate jump points to traverse, each requiring a slowdown to drop in and out, he seemed to go faster instead. He arrived at New Jamaica an average of four days early.

Stella stared at the navigation manual until she was cross-eyed, then called in her pilot.

“I’m trying to figure out how a ship goes faster than the listed travel times on green-keyed mapped routes. Much faster.”

“That’s easy.” The pilot gave her a challenging look. “They’re not using the green routes.”

“Excuse me?”

“They’re using the yellows,” the pilot said.

“But that’s illegal,” Stella said, and got another look much like the first.

“Yeah, and it’s dangerous, which bothers most people more,” the pilot said. “I won’t do it, even for a bonus. What routes are we talking about?”

Stella pushed over the reader. “How could I figure out what routes he was using instead of the ones he should’ve been using?”

“One of your other ships, eh? Let’s see. That hull…that drive…no way he could be making up time like that on green routes.”

“Why would he do it?”

“Speed pays. Faster delivery, early-delivery bonuses, no overtime charges. Stupid, because eventually you’ll run into something…not all the yellows are yellow for the same reason, you know.”

Stella didn’t know. “Explain, please,” she said.

The pilot was still looking at the reader, her fingers flickering over the controls. “Some of the jump points are yellow because they’re unstable—they wobble around, they change focus, that kind of thing. Some are too close to a large mass. You may get by with a yacht or something, but not with a big freighter. Some systems are inherently dangerous, lots of rocks loose in the system. Some, there’s concern about the stability of a star; wouldn’t want to be translating through there just as it went blooey. And some, it’s unfriendly natives. The people don’t like travelers, or they like them in the wrong way.”

“Pirates?”

“Could be. Nearby systems report problems to the Pilots’ Guild, and they classify them as green or yellow. We pilots prefer to err on the side of caution, so probably some yellows aren’t that unsafe, but I’m not trying them.” She nodded at the reader screen. “Aha. Look at this.”

The figures meant nothing to Stella until the pilot explained. “My guess is he’s running yellow routes the whole way.”

“But he’s not coming in that early on the second and third legs.”

“That’s because he’s spending time off the clock,” the pilot said. “Somewhere on those legs, my guess is, he’s meeting someone at one of these four jump points. Probably BV-328, RV-43, or GV-16, since they’re all in uninhabited systems. BV-24’s inhabited; if they hung around there longer than necessary, someone might notice.”

“Meeting someone.”

“Yes. I don’t know who this is you’re checking up on, but if it’s an employee I’d say check the balance sheets. They’re jumping slow, hanging around, meeting someone, maybe exchanging cargo, maybe just information.”

“Is this something a ship captain could do without the crew’s knowledge? Without at least the pilot knowing?”

“Not unless the pilot was knocked out and locked in a closet. The rest of the crew…I don’t know. If they think it’s supposed to take six days of FTL flight with a jump-point transition in the middle and it takes six days of FTL flight with a jump-point transition in the middle, they might not.”

Furman’s counterpart, running the same route backward, had never matched Furman’s times. Why hadn’t someone at headquarters noticed? Missing cargo would’ve been noticed; shippers had never complained of shortages in consigned cargo. Private cargo, then? Crew allotments? That would require crew complicity. Stella called up the records. He’d had the same senior crew for years, and the number of Vatta family members in the crew had dropped steadily.

Captains were allowed to pick their own crews, certainly, but Vatta crew usually had priority for openings. Furman had no openings. According to the records, the only people who ever asked for transfers out, who ever got sick, who ever retired, were Vattas.

“I need to get back to the bridge,” the pilot said. “If you’ll excuse me—”

“Yes, go ahead,” Stella said. “Thank you for your help.” That was automatic; she barely noticed the door closing. When had Furman started this—whatever this really was? Was it related to his unsuccessful attempt to marry into the family? Had he been crooked before he ever joined Vatta? Or was it something else, simple greed perhaps?

It made a horrible kind of sense. Furman, angry and hurt at what he may have felt was an insult, but unable or unwilling to confront his employer, had not seen the cream-puff Beulah Road route as sufficient compensation. Had he even known what Osman Vatta was, when he met him—Stella wondered where, and how—and began clandestine meetings where they exchanged…what? Nothing too large, nothing bulky. Something quick and easy to move from ship to ship, in the emptiness of a system with only a jump point and perhaps an automated ansible. Something Furman could sell, in those extra days on New Jamaica.

Had Ky been aboard, an unwanted apprentice too quick-witted for her own good, on one of those voyages?

For one mind-boggling moment, Stella wondered if a substitution could have taken place then, Osman’s daughter for Gerard’s—the real Ky killed and her body spaced—but it was too absurd. The Ky who came back from that voyage was the same difficult, sulky teenager who had left on it. No substitute could have gone undetected.

The critical thing was Furman, Furman’s treachery, Furman’s equally treacherous crew, the danger they posed to Vatta now, and her own inability to do anything until she got to Cascadia Station. She was stuck out here, days away, while Ky was right there cheek-by-jowl with Furman.

Furman couldn’t do anything more without the help of the Cascadian government, she told herself. Surely he would not attack Ky’s ship, or Ky herself, directly. He would have to wait until she herself docked, until the stationmaster had obtained the genetic samples he wanted and had them compared. She could call Ky and warn her, but Ky was already suspicious of Furman; surely she would be careful. Besides, if Furman was as bad as that, why risk a call that might be intercepted?