Victory Conditions (2 page)

Glances passed back and forth across the table; for a long moment no one said anything.

Finally, Box cleared his throat. “About your father…”

“Yes?”

“You know I’ve talked to him. So have some of the others. I’m certainly aware he’s not what he was. And—for the most part—we don’t want him back.” Box paused a moment, clearly trying to gauge Rafe’s reaction. Rafe felt as if a load of rock had dropped on his head; he couldn’t think of anything to say. “I’m one of his oldest friends; I still consider him a friend. But he got us into this whole mess; his judgment was faulty long before his injury. Or perhaps it had been tampered with, but that doesn’t really matter.”

“You’ve canvassed the Board?” Rafe found his voice at last, looking around at them all.

“Informally, yes.”

“You can’t blame everything on him. It was Lew—”

“He was fooled by Parmina, to the point of repudiating his own son.” Box went on, enumerating the same things Rafe had struggled not to see. “The policies he approved led directly to the mess we’re in now—the erosion of our ability to protect our monopoly, the failure to gain control of new technology, the theft of our intellectual property…Parmina may have been the mastermind, but your father did not see the dangers.”

Neither had the Board, Rafe thought. They had all been fooled just as much as his father. Had they ever done anything more than nod yes and take their compensation? “Then…if you don’t want my father, you won’t want me,” he said. He felt letdown and relief at the same moment.

“Not at all, Rafe. You did see the problems; you’ve clarified them for all of us; you’ve started turning the corporation around. We need you and we want you. Now and for the foreseeable future. I don’t believe—and I am sure the Board concurs—that there is anyone else who could possibly save as much of what we had.”

The others nodded. The weight fell back on his shoulders. He wanted to yell at them, insist he was not the one for the job, but he knew…he knew he was.

“The only problem,” Box said slowly, “is this thing with the Vatta family and your relationship with them. On this I stand with your father, and I think I speak for most of the Board. There are reasons to be concerned; they are involved in too many of the things that have gone wrong, that have cost us.”

“You can’t seriously believe…” Rafe stopped, faced with that double row of stony faces. They did believe it. He would have to change that—they would have to understand that their future lay with a Vatta alliance.

Moscoe Confederation, Cascadia Station

Stella Vatta, acting CEO of Vatta Transport, watched a crawler line move across the screen of her deskcomp—silenced, as she liked it—and flicked for full download. The columns of figures she’d been working on faded; the screen showed a newsman from Central Cascadian News Service standing in front of another screen, which showed an explosion repeating, over and over.

“—just in, a vid apparently sent by ansible to at least a dozen system governments. We’re not sure of the source, but analysis suggests that it is, as it claims, an actual unedited vid. The person you will see identifies himself as Gammis Turek and claims to represent a large force—I must warn you, this vid contains disturbing images and language, unsuitable for children. But we feel it is urgent—”

Stella felt cold to her bones. Gammis Turek. The man Ky insisted had been connected to Osman Vatta and the attack on their family…and behind the disruption of the ansible network, and the conquest of systems like Bissonet and Polson.

The screen changed, so the explosion filled it. This time, it did not repeat, but changed to a man in a dark-red-and-black uniform, standing against a background of a night sky, arms folded across his chest. He seemed tall, though without any background clues it was impossible to say how tall: dark-haired, dark-eyed, a strong-boned face that might have been attractive if not for the expression.

“You will all know my name,” he said. He had a strong accent, but Stella had no difficulty understanding his words. “You will all fear my name.” He seemed to be looking through the camera, right into Stella’s eyes; she felt exposed for a moment, even though she knew he could not possibly see her. He had to have personality mods, to convey that much command presence in a recording. “I am Gammis Turek,” he said. He paused. His mellow voice, perfectly modulated to convey strength, determination, menace, was far more frightening than the harsh bellow of a thriller actor.

“You must understand this,” he said. “I can isolate your world at any moment. My fleets control the spaceways; my forces can disrupt ansible communications whenever I wish. I have many allies; their forces, too, are at my command. I have more ships than any system militia and weapons that can turn your home worlds into cinders.” A carefully measured pause. “If you force me to use them against you, I will have no mercy. You and those you love, everything you have worked for, will die in an instant. Here is one proof of it.”

Now the scene showed an expansive office, where well-dressed civilians, all clearly humods, backed away from armed men wearing Turek’s maroon and black colors.

“They argued with my commands,” Turek said. The troops fired, in short bursts, and people fell, some screaming at first, until at last the room fell silent. “They did not obey,” Turek said in a voice-over, as the scene shifted to a brief battle between a rock-throwing mob and the soldiers. “That was Polson,” Turek said. “I own it now. I own its jump points. I own its ansibles. Only my people live on the world once called Polson. And it is not the only one.” The scene changed to a ruined city, smoke rising from shattered buildings. “Here someone killed one of my men. Just one. Hundreds died here, maybe thousands. It doesn’t matter to me. I do not tolerate disobedience.” He did not sound angry, but like someone stating an undeniable fact.

The scene shifted again, this time to an image of an ansible platform exploding, then again to Turek standing as before.

“Do not make the mistake of thinking this an idle boast. Or that you can save yourselves by banding together. It is too late for that. My agents are everywhere: those of you who conspire against me will regret it.” He smiled, a chilling smile that was at the same time alluring. Stella remembered from her brief bad affair what strings were being pulled here. “Remember my name. Expect me. I am coming.”

The announcer reappeared. “We have no way of knowing whether this is some kind of scam, or whether this person really exists and actually is behind the recent disturbing events we reported some time ago—the apparent overthrow of the governments of Bissonet and Polson by a foreign force. But we felt this was important enough to bring to the public. We have already sent this vid to the Moscoe Confederation Defense Department, who are now analyzing it further. We will keep you informed.”

Stella tabbed back to the spreadsheet she’d been working on. Cascadia felt a lot less safe than it had a few minutes ago; she had been so sure that nothing would happen here until Ky reappeared, and then Ky would take care of it—or someone would—and she could go on leading Vatta Enterprises and Vatta Transport. And there was nothing she could do, really, except make sure that new onboard ansibles came off the production line as fast as possible. One production line might not be enough; she might as well work on costing a proposal.

Ten minutes later, her implant scheduler reminded her that her ward Toby would be back soon from school; foreign crisis or no foreign crisis, she could not put off any longer a serious talk about a purely personal matter.

She waited until Toby had engulfed his usual after-school snack before broaching the topic she knew would upset him.

“Toby, I need to speak to you about your friendship with Zori.”

“Why?” From his expression he suspected the reason.

“Her family isn’t happy with it, for one thing. If you were both older, that wouldn’t matter…well, it wouldn’t matter on Slotter Key; I’m not sure what the courtship rituals are on such a courteous place as this. But you’re not older, and her family has a right to influence her choices.”

“She likes me.” Toby’s face settled into a stubborn expression. Zori was his first girlfriend, and he had fallen as hard as a boy his age could fall.

“Yes, so I gather from her mother. But their concern is twofold: we are not an old Cascadian famly, and we are the wrong religion.”

“We can’t help it that we just got here,” Toby said. “It’s not like we’re criminals or anything.”

“No. But—” Stella sighed. This was a part of the caution common to prominent families that she had not understood herself, at Toby’s age, and her own stubbornness had caused no end of trouble. “They’re just being careful of her, Toby. They think—right or wrong doesn’t matter—that she will be happier with someone of her own kind—someone whose family they know.”

“She doesn’t care about those boys,” Toby said. “She cares about me.”

“That may be, but it doesn’t change the fact that her family would prefer she not care about you that much.”

“We’re not
doing
anything,” Toby said, flushing in a way that suggested they probably were, though Stella hoped not as much as she herself had. “All we did was—kind of—you know—I mean, I touched her hair.”

Stella knew, to the marrow of her bones, what Toby was feeling, and also what magnitude of trouble that could cause.

“They’re her parents. You don’t want to get her in trouble—”

“No, of course not. But they—”

“Are her parents,” Stella repeated. “Look, I’ve had two long talks with her mother. Explained—” Stella caught herself. Telling Toby she’d told Zori’s mother that the two were in no danger, that it was their first attraction, that they’d get out of it faster if the parents stayed calm, would only make Toby determined to prove how serious they were and how permanent their affection. “I explained that we were a respectable, even prominent family on Slotter Key, that you were a responsible young man. They’re not accusing you or her of anything…wrong. They agree that you’re intelligent and well mannered. But they’re adamant that she quit visiting here unless I guarantee adult supervision. And even then, not more than twice a week.”

“Here? But it’s our office! It’s—it’s a public place. It doesn’t even have a bed!” Though not because he hadn’t asked for one, so he could stay overnight working on his projects. Stella forbore to remind him of that.

“Toby, this isn’t about you, specifically. It’s their culture, their family, their daughter.”

He had hardened his jaw, but now he nodded slowly. “I suppose…I should be glad that they didn’t forbid her to visit at all.”

“You’re right. And they want to meet both of us. Two meetings: one with me alone, and one just you and her parents.”

“Zori didn’t say anything—”

“She may not know yet, and for this meeting she won’t be coming. Her mother suggested lunch at a nice restaurant, and I agreed. Her father may or may not make it.”

“So when—”

“Tomorrow.”

“Can I tell—?”

“I see no reason why you can’t tell Zori today that I’m meeting her mother for lunch tomorrow. But if I were you, I would not be too specific about why. Her parents have a right to tell her what they want her to know.”

“It’s not fair to keep things from people—” Toby began.

“It’s also not fair to start trouble between members of another family,” Stella said.

“Liking someone isn’t starting trouble,” Toby said.

“It can be,” Stella said, with a rush of all-too-vivid memories.

Stella arrived at The Glade, the restaurant Zori’s mother had suggested, a few minutes early; her security team ran its usual check, and she signed them in with the maître d’. “Ser and Sera Louarri aren’t here yet,” he said. “If the sera would like to wait in the lounge?”

“Thank you,” Stella said, glad of a few quiet moments alone to collect herself. The morning had been a chaotic scramble as worried officials demanded to know when ansibles on order could be delivered and where Ky was and when the promised Slotter Key ships would arrive. News outlets had played Turek’s speech over and over; normally courteous Cascadians were even snapping at one another and at Stella. The familiar dance of family relationships could not be as stressful as her morning, even if it turned out badly for Toby.

The lounge extended the Cascadian theme of forest design to include a floor covering that looked, felt, and smelled like a carpet of real moss, a sound system projecting the rustle of leaves in the breeze and birdsong, and visuals that produced moving shadows and lights on the surfaces, as if sun glimmered through leaves. Stella appreciated the artistry, but wished some decorator would choose another theme…a beach, perhaps, or a mountain lake, or a meadow full of bright flowers. Surely the planet wasn’t all forested.

“Ah, Sera Vatta!” The woman who came into the lounge was older and had once been in Stella’s class of beauty, but dark-haired, like Zori. Now she had the thin, brittle look of someone fighting a long illness or under great stress. Her ice-green suit fit perfectly; her jewelry was obviously expensive but not flashy.

“Sera Louarri, what a pleasure!” Stella said. She knew she was being examined and evaluated in the same way she looked at Zori’s mother. Hair, manicure, makeup, clothes, jewelry, shoes…she had correctly guessed the right level, and Sera Louarri acknowledged that with the briefest change in expression. As far as fashion went, they were equals.