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…

“She’s changed, Quincy,” Stella said. “Before she got that ship, she was all Vatta; she cared about the family and the company above all. She didn’t care about the letter of marque; I believe she had no interest in using it. Now that she’s got a ship like that, with weapons and all, she’s changed.”

“You think she doesn’t care about the family? After the way she protected you and Toby?”

“After she put us in danger,” Stella said, but this time without heat. “I’m afraid she’ll go after the pirates by herself, in some crazy attempt to get revenge. And Toby’s with her. She’ll get them both killed.”

“I don’t think so,” Quincy said. “I’ve been with her longer than you have. She’s not going to take on something she knows she can’t handle, and she’s not going to think a single ship can fight off a lot of ’em.”

“I hope you’re right,” Stella said. With the outburst, she felt exhausted and on the edge of tears. She was not going to cry in front of the old woman. Quincy would, she was sure, take it as an attempt to manipulate her. “I’d better go tell the others—”

“The ones that didn’t overhear you yelling,” Quincy said, with some tartness.

“Yes. Well, I need to talk to Mackensee and the convoy captains, and of course the station, as well as the crew.”


_______

Stella looked at her tiny crew gathered in the rec area and shrugged as she told them what Ky had said. “We don’t have much choice,” she said. “Ky can’t come to the station without being tied up in legalities for a long time; they think she’s a pirate.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Alene said.

“It may be ridiculous, but to them it’s prudence. For our sakes, we have to be as bland and uninteresting as we can possibly be. Businesslike, of course. Professional, but cool. We don’t know, for instance, if anyone is still stalking Vatta ships and family members, so we have to be careful. But we’re not looking for trouble.” Before anyone could ask awkward questions, she went on. “We need a pilot to get to dock; I’ll see about taking one on. We’ll be hiring additional crew at this station, including a permanent pilot. If any of you want to leave the ship here, please let me know at least a standard day before we dock, so I can get the paperwork ready. Alene, start scanning the local listings to see what we have that might be marketable.”

“What about those things in cargo?” Alene asked.

“What things?” They weren’t carrying any contraband that Stella could think of.

“Those mines,” Alene said. “The ones that came in with the cleaning supplies. We can’t let some Customs clerk see those, or we’ll be locked up tighter than tight.”

Stella had almost forgotten the remaining mines. Just the thought of them made her feel sick to her stomach. Ugly things, menacing even when just sitting there on the deck.

“Lock them back into their carrying containers and put them in the number two hold, along with anything else consigned to a specific destination. We can then trade out of the others.”

“The captain—Captain Ky—did something to them, remember, after she unpacked them. Do you think it’s safe to move them?”

Another loose end Ky had left for her to take care of. Stella wondered how she was going to ask Ky about the mines without revealing to any listening ears that there were mines. “I’ll check with Ky,” she said. “Unless, Quincy, you know—?” But Quincy shook her head. “Well, then,” Stella went on, “is there anything else we need to ask Ky about? Because she’s changed course and this will be difficult in a few more hours.”

It was impossible, Stella found, to ask whether mines needed to be deactivated and, if so, how, without making it clear that something was being concealed, if not what.

“I needed to ask you about those cargo items that were involved in the…er…attack. As you recall, some crates were opened when we were…trying to make some barriers and things…and some of those items may have been rendered unsafe…”

“You mean the…oh,” Ky said. Her face expressed some emotion that might have been consternation or just concentration. “Er…nobody’s moved them, have they?”

“No. My question is…”

“Well, yes, you’d want to inspect and remove anything…er…damaged in Osman’s attack and clear a space for repairs. I understand that.”

“With the reminder that no one in my present crew is experienced in this particular kind of—”

“Yes, yes,” Ky said, cutting her off. “Quincy is probably your best choice for this, as some of it is technical. Is she available?”

“She’s down in cargo. I’ll transfer your call,” Stella said. Typical of Ky not to let her finish her sentences. She called Quincy to the relay screen and listened in.

“Quincy,” Ky said, “Are you concerned about the items we took onboard at Lastway, from that supply company—the cleaning supplies, deodorants, and things?”

Quincy’s brows rose; then she smoothed her expression. “Yes, Captain. If you recall, Environmental thought some of the canisters might be useful in defending the ship. But I’m wondering about corrosives that might cause leaks or impair air quality.”

“Yes. And you don’t have Mitt over there anymore; I think he was in charge of that. I’ll just ask him.” She cut the sound, but Stella could see Ky turning away, talking into another device, presumably connected to Fair Kaleen’s Environmental section. Would anyone really believe that they’d tried to use canisters of deodorant for weapons?

Ky’s voice came back on. “Mitt says it’s just a matter of making sure the lids are fastened tightly. There’s a snap-on part—the actual locking device is on the side.”

“I saw that,” Quincy said. “There’s some kind of status marker or something?”

“Yes—the instructions are in there somewhere. You’d want it to be dark or green, not orange.”

“Do you think Mitt took the instructions with him by accident? Or what would I look for?”

“If you can find the original crate, there’s a readable version…”

Stella listened without comment. Surely anyone listening in would immediately recognize what was being talked about.

Quincy and Ky went on, until Quincy gave a little grunt of satisfaction. “Ah. Now I see it. Thanks, Captain—I’ve got it and it’s clear that none of the…uh…canisters has leaked. The contents appear stable.”

“Then if the container is still in one piece, just repack them.” Ky looked as calm as if they’d been discussing tubes of sealant. “Stella, I’d suggest you put that crate and the other items that were on consignment into one of the holds and move items you might want to trade to another—”

“I already thought of that,” Stella said.

“Good,” Ky said. “Now is there anything else?”

There was, but not something Stella wanted to get into over an open channel. “I would like to know where you’re headed next,” Stella said. “So I can rejoin you later.”

“Oh. Of course.” But Ky said nothing more for a moment, instead staring at nothing, with the slightly blank expression of someone accessing complicated implant information. Then she focused on Stella again. “Stella, do you have Vatta route information in your implant?”

“Only the main routes,” Stella said. “Maybe Quincy has it in hers.”

“I do,” Quincy said.

“Good, then. Section six, standard route, alternate three’s second stop alternate. Don’t say it.”

“I have it,” Quincy said. “Not recommended, right?”

“Right. The Vatta code should begin with VXR—”

“That’s it,” Quincy said.

“Let Stella know, but no one should reveal it here,” Ky said.

Stella wanted to say ridiculous, but maybe it wasn’t. “I am authorized to hire crew here, am I not?” she asked instead.

“Of course,” Ky said. “You’re the CFO; you know what we can afford and can’t.”

“See you in a few weeks,” Stella said, hoping that would be true.

“You’ll be fine,” Ky said, and signed off.

Stella glared at the blank screen for a few seconds before putting in a call to the Mackensee ship. She would have sent a string of curses after Ky if she’d had a way to do it. Here she was, stuck without a real captain or a pilot, short-crewed otherwise, and Ky was off somewhere doing something—probably getting herself in trouble, as she usually did. How was she supposed to hire reliable crew in this situation?

She fell back on older experiences and tried her best smile on Lieutenant Colonel Johannson. Men in authority usually liked being asked for advice. “How can I find reliable crew?” she asked. “My cousin’s left me in a difficult situation…”

His answering smile was a bit grim. “You Vattas have a talent for getting in difficult situations. I’d be tempted to do a subsidiary contract with you, except for my experience with your cousin. However, for a fee I can lend the services of our intelligence unit to check out candidates for employment, if you wish.”

“That would be most helpful,” Stella said. “I’m sorry Ky was such a problem to you.”

“She didn’t intend to be,” Johannson admitted. “But I suspect she’s one of those drawn to trouble—or trouble’s drawn to her. You may be one of the peaceful Vattas—if there are any.”

“We thought we were,” Stella said. “Most of my family are—were—ordinary business people. Wore suits, went to the office, came home and in their off hours followed individual hobbies. Or, for those on ship duty, did whatever duty they were assigned.”

“Hmmm. Sounds peaceful enough.”

“Except for competition between companies,” Stella said. “My father could be pretty cutthroat in doing deals, but personally I never saw him as anything but a respectable businessman. Even boring, I thought when I was a youngster, but I had grown out of that.” Her only comfort, after her father’s death, was that she had, after all the turmoil earlier, gained her father’s trust and respect as an adult.

“It’s odd that such a massive attack was aimed at your corporation,” Johannson said. “I know—at least your cousin said—that she had no idea who had done it, or why; she was convinced it was connected to the attacks on ansibles, but I couldn’t think of a plausible connection.”

“I can’t, either, really. I’m hoping that Osman was behind it somehow—certainly he intended harm to us, and his connections at MilMart suggest a wider-ranging capability—”

“Wait—I hadn’t heard about that. What connections at MilMart?”

“He taunted us—said our defensive suite wouldn’t work against actual missiles—”

“But we checked it out—our techs said it was fine—”

“Well, it wasn’t,” Stella said. “I don’t understand how it was done, but somehow it showed up fine on scans, but there were bad components. Osman bragged that he had an agent in MilMart, that he’d told them to sell us a compromised system. Ky didn’t tell you this?”

“No, she didn’t. I suppose it could have slipped her mind—”

“We fixed it,” Stella said. “Or rather, Quincy and the Engineering crew did. Replaced the defective parts.”

“We buy from MilMart,” Johannson said; his tone was now grim. “They have a good reputation, but if they’ve got someone in their organization who’s cheating customers, that’s something our headquarters has to know. Fair trade—that pays for our help in screening potential crew for you.”

“Thanks,” Stella said, astonished.

He didn’t explain further, but went on. “Send us a list of the crew you want to find, and we’ll check with hiring agencies.”


_______

Stella had considered at length what appearance would best suit her needs, studying local broadcasts and newsfeeds. Few visible humods and a human population skewed to the short and dark. Their broadcast entertainment, however, featured one tall blonde after another. For once her beauty might work for her; if she couldn’t be one of them, she could be what they admired.

“Aren’t you worried about security?” Quincy asked as Stella prepared to go onto the station and arrange financing options.

“Not a great deal,” Stella said. “I really think the impetus for attacking Vatta came from Osman. I don’t think he was the whole show—he could hardly have managed to damage all those ansibles himself—but I don’t think I’m in that much danger.”

“I hope you’re right,” Quincy said.

“I also,” Stella said. She put on a smoke-blue dress suit, arranged her hair carefully, and went to meet the Customs and Immigration team at dockside. All male, all fairly short and dark. Their eyes widened as she stepped out onto the dock.

“Er…Captain Vatta?”

“I’m Stella Vatta, yes,” Stella said. She could see in their expressions that she was having the desired effect. “I don’t have a uniform,” she said, putting on her most wistful smile. “My cousin was the captain, but when she left, she appointed me.”

“And your experience—” That was a stocky older man with a little gray in his dark hair. His name tag read NIMON KNAE.

Stella looked down and allowed her cheeks to flush. “Actually—I’m more of an accountant than a ship officer. But she left me a very capable crew.”

“She turned a spaceship over to someone who isn’t even a ship officer?” His eyebrows had shot up, almost comically.

Stella nodded. “But I’m a family member, you see. She said a Vatta ship had to have a Vatta captain.”

“That’s hardly fair to you. How are you supposed to know what to do? What if something goes wrong?” He had taken on the protective tone she knew so well from her father; her eyes filled without her intent even as she recognized that she had found a point of contact.

“I do worry about that,” Stella said, blinking back the tears. “But I’ve been reading the manuals, and I do have a very capable senior engineer. Of course, I plan to hire more crew here—and maybe one of the Vatta ships on this circuit will come in while I’m here.”

“She shouldn’t have done it,” Knae said. “She put you in a very dangerous position.”

“I know,” Stella said. “I was scared stiff most of the time. But what else could we do? That horrible man was trying to kill us—” It was almost too easy to play the helpless, immature beauty for this man; she was annoyed with herself for the ease with which she fell into the role.

As Knae continued to question her about their voyage, about Ky, about Osman, about the mercenaries, Stella struggled with her own feelings. She and Ky had talked about the family disaster only in brief snatches, information-only. This was the first time she had told the story straight through, from the attack on her family back on Slotter Key through the attacks by Osman. She felt like two Stellas: one in control, carefully manipulating tone of voice and expression to have the best effect on the officials questioning her, and one adrift in waves of emotion she had not taken the time to recognize. From the first, she had been reacting or doing what she was told—by Aunt Grace, by Rafe, by Ky.

Those minutes—was it only minutes?—she had lain on the bunk with a sack over her head came back to her with terrifying intensity. It was hard to breathe, even now, when she thought of it; the fear dominated everything…when was he coming? Would Ky be able to stop him?

Knae kept on asking detailed questions, some she couldn’t answer, questions she now understood were important in many ways. But in the brief time between waking from the stun to her implant and Ky’s leaving for the other ship, she hadn’t asked enough questions, or the right questions. Ky should have told her, somehow, exactly what had happened and how; Ky should have understood that she was too dazed by events to take in everything right away.

Her control slipped; she felt more tears on her face, and knew she was shaking.

Knae’s face softened and his voice was gentler as he asked, “Can anyone confirm any of this? Even your crew?”

“Quincy could. Quincy Robin. She’s as old as the ship, near enough, she’s been with Vatta all her life.” Stella took a deep breath and managed to steady her voice. “Our escorts certainly know about attacks on Vatta ships and personnel—they witnessed attacks on us at Lastway. Lieutenant Commander Johannson will confirm what happened from Lastway to here.”

Finally they seemed to have run out of questions. Knae looked at the others, who looked back and shrugged.

“I need to get to the bank,” Stella said. “If you don’t mind?”

“Go ahead…but don’t leave the station without permission.”

“I wouldn’t know how,” Stella said, smiling at them. She wondered how Ky would have fared, when even her beauty had barely softened their attitude.