“Sounds like Aunt Gracie,” Ky said, hoping Stella would quit telling her story and get back to Rafe.

“Yes, well, her old friend Halma turned out to be a fellow veteran—that’s when I found out about Aunt Gracie’s own checkered past. I got a fast course in courier protocols and she sent me off to another friend, halfway around the planet. Apparently I did all right, because that one sent me back with a good report. I thought it was all great fun—you had to follow the rules to the letter, of course, but it was the kind of challenge I like, blending in and being someone else, or at least being the foolish, stupid Stella on the outside while being a competent Stella on the inside. If you can follow that.”

“Yes,” Ky said, “I can.” Especially after seeing those lightning changes of expression and character.

“Well, I was on another job for Aunt Gracie’s old friend, at an embassy party on Cassagar, when I met Rafe. He recognized that I was trolling for information just as I recognized he was the same, and he called me on it. I didn’t know what to do—it was my first political assignment—so I fell back on girlish giggles and sex appeal, and he wasn’t having it. I’m still not sure exactly how it happened, but the next thing I knew he was teaching me to use his picklocks—which is a very useful skill, and I still use the set he gave me—and not too long after that I realized he was the sexiest man I’d ever met. Jamar wasn’t within six orders of magnitude.” Stella grinned and shook her head. Ky thought of Hal, but shied away from that memory.

Stella went on. “Also the most dangerous. Also someone with contacts I’d never even imagined existed… he seemed to have a finger in every clandestine organization on Cassagar. His story then was that he’d worked his way up from a state orphanage to a private investigator’s license, learning formal etiquette from training tapes, but we both understood that considerable dubious actions were involved. We worked together briefly, then I went back home to Slotter Key to be debriefed by Aunt Gracie. After which she and my father employed my skills at intervals.”

“I see. So… do you consider Rafe trustworthy?”

“Before the latest revelations, I would have said that Rafe stays bought if you pay his asking price, and that he’s reliable in partnership agreements. After all, I turned my back on him this time. But I’m not sure now… if he’s really Dunbarger’s son, and really a permanent ISC agent, then he’ll be with us—or anyone he contracts with—only so long as it doesn’t cross ISC.”

“I’m not planning to cross ISC,” Ky said. “And they should be pleased with me, after the Sabine thing. So with those circumstances, what about partnering or hiring Rafe? And which would be better?”

“Partnering,” Stella said. “And yes, I think he’d be a good asset, though… though I’m still peeved that he never told me…” She cocked her head at Ky. “But what use am I, Ky? What can you do with me?”

“I don’t know yet. We may have use for an agent of our own, when we come to someplace where you aren’t known and won’t be an instant assassin magnet. Meantime, you were home more than I was, the last few years. You may know a lot about recent developments in the company that I didn’t know.”

“And I can scramble eggs,” Stella said, grinning. “I’m not trained for ship’s crew, but some of my skills will transfer.”

“That’s good. Besides, you’re family. And there’s little enough left.” That black weight bore down on her shoulders again; Ky struggled not to break down.

“True,” Stella said. She looked sad. “I don’t—there’s not been time to grieve, really. It all happened so fast. Though at least I had the time on the courier to myself. It must be worse for you, being out of touch when it happened.”

“I don’t know,” Ky said. “It still seems unreal. They’ve always been there… parents, aunts, uncles, corporate headquarters, the house. I can almost pretend they’re still there, but you can’t.” And neither could she, for more than moments. She could not make the right decisions if she clung to the wrong data.

“Reality bites,” Stella said. She stretched. “Well. You’ve got Toby settled; that’s a good thing.”

“Unless someone blows this ship,” Ky said soberly. “I do think about that. We should find him a safer place; he’s our future. Stella, do you—does Aunt Grace—have any idea why the government turned on us?”

“She wasn’t sure if someone had outbid us, or scared them silly. When I left she was planning to find out and see if she could correct their thinking, as she put it. I would not like to be the President, with Aunt Grace after him.” Stella drew her finger across her throat.

Ky debated for a moment and took the plunge. “Stella, there’s a very odd thing. Before this happened, someone had sent me a message here to be held for my arrival. I have a letter of marque from Slotter Key—”

“But nobody does that anymore!” Stella said, eyes wide.

“That’s what I thought, but they do, and I have one. Here—” Ky handed Stella the padded folder.

“This is incredible… when did you get it? You’re sure it’s official?”

“It came via… someone I knew at the Academy. I’m sure of the provenance, but I’m not sure it’s still valid.” Ky took the folder when Stella had finished reading and put it away. “Still, it gives me justifications other than family to go after whoever’s doing this.”

“I never knew Slotter Key ran privateers,” Stella said, shaking her head. “I thought I knew a lot about local politics… how did they keep this secret, I wonder.”

“I heard rumors,” Ky said. “I just thought it was vicious slander, but clearly it wasn’t.”

“Privateer,” Stella said. She grinned suddenly. “Valid or not, with the Slotter Key ansibles down, who’s to know?”

“Not Rafe,” Ky said. “I’m not ready to tell him all my secrets. Besides, can you really see this ship attacking and capturing anything? Thing is, even if I were a military genius, I can’t see how to fight a war with one old tub like this one. She’s slow, she’s vulnerable, and she has no teeth.”

“Would money help?” Stella asked. “I’ve got some in the usual hard goods, from Aunt Gracie and my own resources.”

“Money always helps. Enough to buy a real warship would certainly help, but I doubt you’ve brought that much. Upgrading this one—we can get as far as armed merchant vessel, which everyone will assume means pirate, but that’s about it. She’d need a new insystem drive, some decent shielding, and at least one—no, two—decent weapons systems. It’d cut our cargo capacity thirty percent, and it isn’t that big already.”

“You’ve already thought about it.”

“Of course. I haven’t been twiddling my thumbs. I’ve thought of several things. Running her as a cargo ship, under Vatta colors: likely to get us attacked and blown up entirely too soon. Running her as a cargo ship under other colors—my own, for one—and hoping nobody figures out she’s really Vatta. That would require a new ship chip, of clandestine origin, and time to build up a clientele. The kinds of cargoes you can get in an uninsured, unknown ship are, as you know, minimal. Running her as an armed merchanter, trying to combine light cargo—probably clandestine—with covert attacks on the guilty parties, if we ever figure out who they are. That is dangerous and unlikely to make the kind of profits that will keep us going, unless we take on seriously bad cargo.”

“Seriously bad cargo may lead us to our enemies…”

“Yes. It could. Either usefully or right into their trap. You surely know that Vatta corporate accounts are frozen, credit unobtainable right along with insurance for either ship or cargo…”

“I didn’t realize accounts would all be frozen; I was able to access funds on Allray.”

“They’re frozen here, and other places I’ve heard of. I’ve sold off the cargo we came in with, and I have a few goodies that Aunt Gracie stuffed into a fruitcake for me, but not enough to buy a new ship or convert this one to armed merchanter.”