Victory Conditions Read online

  He and Zori just talked slang; they never wrote it down. Toby worked his way along the page, sounding out the words; the transcriber had used phonetic symbols he wasn’t entirely familiar with. “What’s this thing with a hook under it?”

  “That’s a sk sound,” Stella said. “I think Ky’s com officer just ran this through a computer transliteration—it’s all in formal linguistic symbols. Let’s see—that one there, that’s another consonant cluster, kz.” She looked up at him. “Do you recognize any of this?”

  “I’m trying—wait—this one is like the word for ‘far’ or ‘farther.’ This one is like ‘profit,’ with the suffix for ‘no.’ And this is like ‘out of here,’ and there’s a ‘now’…” Suddenly he felt chilled. “It’s…it can’t be…just coincidence. Not this many words. Can it?”

  Hope died with Stella’s expression. “You learned all these from Zori?”

  “It’s…it’s her family’s private slang. Like our Vatta trade-talk. That’s how I know the word for ‘profit.’”

  “That’s what she told you.”

  “Yes. She said she learned it from her father, her mother doesn’t use it so much. He told her not to use it in public, that it was rude to talk in a language others didn’t understand, but sometimes in trade, in business, it was necessary. She wasn’t supposed to teach me, but—” He looked at the page again. More words made sense now. “Ship” and “ships,” a few numbers—he had learned the numbers up to twenty. “I’ll have to ask Zori—”

  “No.” Stella’s tone brooked no argument. “You will not ask Zori. You will not tell Zori about this message. And you will find a way to separate yourself from Zori and her family, without fuss—”

  “I can’t do that!” He felt panic and outrage together. “We just—her family gave permission; you said—”

  “You must. Come on, Toby, you know what this means.”

  “I don’t.” But he did, and did not want to.

  “She speaks—her family speak—a language unknown to anyone else I’ve asked, which just happens to be the same language the pirates speak. That Gammis Turek speaks. What does that tell you?”

  “It doesn’t tell me Zori’s a pirate,” Toby said, past the lump in his throat. Not Zori. Never Zori. “Maybe they—maybe somewhere back, somewhere along the way, like Osman, maybe one of their relatives went bad. Any family can have bad people in it—”

  “Toby, I understand—”

  “You don’t understand!” Anger drove out grief; he pinned his mind firmly on Zori, unfairly accused. “Zori is not bad! She loves me, and I love her, and nothing you can say will change that.” He could feel the heat in his face, hear the tremor in his voice. He could not stand it; he flung himself out of her office, grabbed his books from the lab, and bolted for the door, his security clumping along after.

  Stella looked at the door Toby had tried to slam. There was something funny—or would be someday—about her, of all people, having this conversation with Toby. Did all young people use the exact same words to their parents and guardians when they were frantic about their first love? Nothing you can say will stop me…she remembered throwing that in her mother’s face, then her father’s…the father who was dead now, only he wasn’t her real father, the mother who hadn’t told her the truth. She pinched the bridge of her nose, hard, and called Toby’s escort on her skullphone.

  “Don’t let him be alone with the Louarri girl,” she said. “No matter what. Tackle him, if you have to.”

  “He’s upset,” one of them said.

  “He’s angry and hurt and scared and convinced she’s the love of his life and I’m to blame for trying to separate them,” Stella said. “You were young once, I assume.”

  “Yes,” the man answered. “I was. We’ll take care of him.”

  Toby had dropped the cube and printout from Ky; Stella picked them up. Pirate jargon? She found the words Toby had mentioned. Was that enough to go on? She wrote those out, in standard script, not trusting the computer at this point, security or no. Ky had recorded transmissions in a combat situation…surely from even a few words, someone could devise a translation…“ship” or “ships,” “far” or “farther,” “now,” “profit,” “out of here.” No, “out of here now.”

  Stella looked at the rest of the page. What was that rude word Toby had mentioned? Prot? She looked through the rest of the printout. Prot appeared often…it was probably a cussword. Probably, from Toby’s reaction, anatomical. That wasn’t going to be very helpful.

  When she got back to the apartment, Toby’s security was outside. “He’s studying, he says. He hasn’t left the apartment; he hasn’t made any calls.”

  “Thank you,” Stella said. She dreaded going in, starting the confrontation again, yet more than her comfort or Toby’s rested on his ability to translate the pirate jargon. Had her parents ever dreaded talking to her? She’d never considered that possibility then. For the first time, it sank in that if she’d had that child, she would be a mother in fact, and the mother of a youngster not that much younger than Toby. At least she’d have more experience…

  The apartment was silent; Toby’s door was closed.

  Stella moved into the kitchen and dialed a prepackaged meal. She had no doubt he would hear her moving around. As it heated, she tapped on his door. “Supper’s almost ready.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  She knew better than that; Toby was always hungry. “Toby, I expect you to come to supper whether you eat it or not.”

  A long moment, then he yanked the door open. His eyes were red, his hair disheveled. He looked down. “I won’t eat.”

  “That’s fine. I know you’re working on a paper, Toby, but this translation thing is urgent. Ky needs it. Everyone needs it. Right now, no one can tell what the pirates are planning, even if they overhear them.”

  “She’s not a pirate.” Only one possible she.

  “I didn’t say she was…but we need to know what they’re saying here, if you can figure it out.”

  “Ky’s sure this was from pirates?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right.” He took the paper and cube. “You still want me at supper?”

  “Yes.”

  As Stella expected, Toby started eating when she served his plate, his eyes darting now and then to the paper beside him. “Do we have any way to get this into standard script? I don’t know all these symbols.”

  “Yes,” Stella said. “I’ve got that in my implant, and it’s on most computers, in the word processing section. You could upload it into yours, now that you’ve got the adult model. But don’t use an outside source.” She had given in to his request for the most advanced implant on the grounds that he really did need it to do the research he was doing, and she needed someone as backup for the Vatta command set.

  “I don’t know nearly as much as Zori,” Toby said, shoveling in the last of a serving of rice with vegetables. His lack of appetite had already dealt with a double serving of cultured turkey with gravy. “I don’t know all of the words I can even read.”

  “We can’t ask Zori,” Stella reminded him.

  “Not even when it’s this important?”

  That was the sticking point. It was that important. If it came to it, if it meant life or death for Ky, or for planets, they would have to ask Zori—force Zori, if it came to it—to do the translation. Or her father.

  “Any such request should come through official channels,” Stella said. “I’ve already given a copy of this to the Cascadian government; it’s their job to decide what to do with it. Though now that I know someone knows the language, or some of it, they need to know that.”

  “It’ll get Zori in trouble,” Toby said. “Maybe I can figure out more of it.”

  “I hope so,” Stella said.

  Toby tapped a stylus on his desk. Zori could not be a traitor: that was a given. Zori had, however, taught him some words that appeared in a pirate transmission. That was a fact. Now that Stella knew that Zori knew
some words, Stella was half convinced of her guilt. Zori’s father had taught Zori those words, and Zori’s father gave him a sick feeling in his stomach. He’d assumed it was what any boy felt around the father of the girl he loved, but maybe not. Maybe the man was a traitor. That didn’t mean Zori was. Zori’s father could be a traitor—both her parents could be traitors—and Zori could still be innocent. Zori’s father could have learned a few words—the ones he’d taught Zori—from someone else. Maybe he wasn’t a traitor. But if Stella told the government about Zori, then nobody would believe her innocence. He had to find a way to save her from that.

  The first step was to find out if she knew all the words in the transmission—because that would mean she could translate the transmissions. If they went to the government themselves, then she could be a hero who translated pirate lingo, not a suspect.

  But Stella had forbidden him to show Zori the transcripts or tell her what was going on. And if—he didn’t want to think this, but he could not help it—if she was guilty, if her father was a traitor and had raised her to be one, too, then showing her the transcripts would be as dangerous as Stella said. How could he find out if she knew more than the little she’d taught him, without breaking Stella’s rule?

  A flash of worry that Zori might not like what he was thinking of doing was easy to banish. He was doing it for her, to protect her, and unless she was a traitor (and she could not be a traitor; that was a given) she would understand and agree, if—when—she found out.

  “My parents like you,” Zori said before math the next day.

  Toby couldn’t answer; he just nodded.

  “Is your cousin causing problems?”

  “Not…exactly. She says she thought she told your father about my escort.”

  Zori gave him a look. “She thinks my father is lying? That’s an insult—”

  “She didn’t say that.” Actually she had said that, but Toby was not going to admit it.

  Zori settled back, lips tight. Then she looked at Toby again. “I…need to talk to you.”

  “We can start this lesson when everyone is attentive.” That was Ser Galvan. Toby looked up just in time to avoid a mark for discourtesy.

  During break, Zori and Toby ignored the nudges and winks of the rest of their class and backed into a corner with their snacks. Toby’s security were nearby, but in the noise of the break room, they could not be overheard. Probably.

  “What?” Toby asked.

  “My father says he likes you but sometimes…sometimes he’s just a little sneaky.”

  “Sneaky?”

  “I mean…yes it would be an insult if your cousin said he was lying about her having told him about your escort. And if she insults him, then he has a legal claim against her, and if he has a legal claim against her, then obviously he won’t let me see you. He might even take me out of school.”

  “So…you think he li—he said that in order to find a way to break us up?”

  “Maybe. It’s not always discourteous to lie…it’s wrong, but it’s not against the courtesy code. Not if you’re not under oath.”

  “Wait a minute…you mean, it’s fine to lie, but wrong to complain that you’ve been lied to?”

  “I wouldn’t say fine…it’s just not a discourtesy, whereas calling someone a liar is.”

  “But if they are lying, and you know it, how are you supposed to handle it?”

  “You can ignore it, if it’s not important, or you can report it, if it’s a criminal matter, or you can ask for a formal statement before a legal representative. That can be phrased without discourtesy.”

  “I’d think that would make it worse,” Toby said. “If you ask for that, aren’t you in effect calling someone a liar in front of others?”

  “No…not in our society. But anyway, if your cousin ever needs to challenge my father she needs to do it properly. Get legal counsel.”

  “Mmm. And what do you think?”

  “You’re asking me to indict my own father?”

  “No, I’m asking what you think.”

  “You don’t understand. I can’t answer that. It would be…it would be wrong. Worse than prot.”

  Toby sheared away from that. “Look…can we meet after school? You have a free period last, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but I can’t meet you then. I promised my mother I’d go to some boring women’s meeting with her. I can get out after dinner, though, as long as I’m home by nine. We could meet for ice cream or something.”

  Toby looked into her eyes. Zori was trustworthy; she had to be. She loved him. And it was important to get this translated. “I’m trying to write an adventure story in…whatever it is you’ve been teaching me.”

  “My family’s secret language…why?”

  “Someday it will be our language. The way we’ve been saying things, you know. You’ve been speaking it for years…I’m trying to learn it. You know I’m more visual than you are; it’ll be easier for me if I write it down. And you said you didn’t have any texts.”

  “I don’t think anyone writes in it,” Zori said. “It’s just for chat.”

  “If your father uses it for business, maybe he writes memos in it.”

  “I suppose.” She looked thoughtful. “But you’re writing in it?”

  “Trying to,” Toby said. “I’m not very good at it. I thought it would be easier if I did it as a story. The dialogue so far sounds more like one of those adventure series for children. Well, except for the rude words. And I made up a bunch of words, too, because I don’t know enough.”

  “Can I see it?”

  “I guess.” Toby had put together a mishmash of the words he knew, a few he remembered, a few that he had guessed, and some he made up. “It’s a space battle: all this part is the bad guys. With the rude words you taught me, it’s easier to do their side. And I’m not sure of the spelling in a lot of places…”

  “You’re making excuses. Let’s see…” She looked at his handcomp. “Wow. You’ve learned a lot…I don’t remember teaching you some of this—”

  “It’s mostly made up, where I didn’t know the words,” Toby said. He had inserted a few made-up words into the text Ky had sent; this was only about a page of a transmission, with interpolated plot.

  “But this—” Zori pointed. “—this really is the word for ‘ammunition.’ Lucky guess, Toby!” She grinned, then went back to reading, while Toby’s heart seemed to sink through his shoes. She knew more words. Why would her father teach her the word for ‘ammunition,’ anyway? “‘No profit in this, get out of here now’…I like that. So the pirates are running away from—who are the good guys?”

  “Space rangers, of course. Who else?”

  “This is wrong, this bit here. You made up blaggorn, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. It’s supposed to mean ‘defeat’—”

  “No, that’s randik. Randik msendim would be losing a bid to another bidder. This bit here means ‘lost too many ships to that…’ I didn’t teach you that word!” Zori’s cheeks reddened.

  “Does it really mean anything?” Toby asked.

  “A very bad word for a woman. Who is she supposed to be?”

  “One of the good-guy captains,” Toby said.

  “Oh, then that’s kobi-parash. Means ‘one of our captains.’ The other is just nasty.”

  The buzzer went off. Zori handed the handcomp back. “I hope my father doesn’t find out you’re writing stories in our trade tongue, Toby. Don’t publish it. ’Specially not with all those really rude words.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Toby said. No doubt now that Zori’s father’s trade tongue was that used by the pirates. He could not doubt Zori…but her father? If Stella’s father could turn out to be Osman Vatta…anyone’s father might be an enemy.

  CHAPTER

  THREE

  Aboard Vanguard, in FTL Flight

  Ky Vatta reset the controls in Vanguard’s fully programmable small-arms range and slipped another magazine into her Rossi-Smith. She fired at the low
est of the five targets, something with tentacles. A green light blinked. “Most of the pure target shooting I did was learning to shoot, from my parents.” Another shot, at the next higher, something with teeth; another green light. “Then I did some hunting. Not a lot—and some of it was archery—” Another shot, this time an armored space suit. Another green light. Ky took out the last two targets. “Your turn, Major.”

  Major Douglas shook his head. “No thanks,” he said. “I’m past my peak—another time.”

  Ky nodded, shut down the system, and reset the ventilation.

  “But back to Turek,” Douglas continued. “My guess is that he’ll start going directly for ship manufacturers. He’s got Bissonet; they made their own warships, but not very big ones, and their capacity for their largest ships was limited to only about five a year. You blew a year’s production in one battle.”

  “So he’d be looking for facilities that manufacture large ships in quantity?”

  “Yes. Not many planetary space forces need those. Smaller ships are sufficient for most insystem jobs, handling the kind of pirate incursions most of us saw before Turek. So there hasn’t been a large market for them, and it’s been saturated by just a few manufacturers. I strongly recommend contacting those entities when we come back out of FTL and seeing if they’ve had any thefts, attacks, or even large orders recently.”

  “And recently would be—”

  “Within the past two to three standard years. The big ships take that long to complete.”

  “Some systems might order larger ships now that they’ve seen the menace,” Ky said. “We need a better way of detecting the wrong kind of order, don’t we?”

  “My recommendation would be to see what orders have been made—quantities, payment sources, and so on—and then look for anomalies. The Moscoe Confederation may have useful data.”

  “At some point Turek is going to run out of his own resources. There can’t be enough pirates in the universe to crew hundreds of ships, govern all the territory he’s conquered, do all the mundane chores that a fleet needs done. Who would join forces with someone like that, if they weren’t under direct threat?”