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  “The public entrance—almost as large as before—and the executive offices need to look prosperous,” her mother said as they rode the lift up from one floor to the next. “So those offices are up high and they seem to have windows to the outside. But the apparent windows on the outside aren’t, and on the inside the blast-shielded rooms have viewscreens.”

  When the lift door opened, Helen nodded to the security station across from it—another change from the old days—and led the way to the CEO’s office down the hall. Stella followed, into an office smaller than her father’s had been, though still impressive. The viewscreens, framed as windows, gave the same view of State Street, the financial centers, and, at a little distance, the pink stone of the Presidential Palace.

  Helen moved to a black-and-gold desk positioned diagonally and sat down, touching the active surface. Stella looked around; the room had changed in more than size. Her father’s oversize tikwood desk, its bold red-and-black grain gleaming above the two slabs of green marble that held it up: gone. Gone also the handsome hand-knotted carpets on the floor, the colorful tapestries and paintings from a dozen or more worlds, souvenirs he’d brought home when he still captained a Vatta ship. Everything bold, intense, colorful…like him. Gone, like him, in the explosion that destroyed the building and so many lives.

  Now pastel prints of sailboats, seaside cottages, and flowery gardens with small children or furry, big-eyed pets hung on bland pale walls. Helen’s desk, half the size of Stavros’, looked delicate enough to be in a lady’s boudoir. Stella remembered it from their country house, as well as the two chairs that sat near it. The carpet, matching the walls, reinforced the bland, almost colorless effect.

  Helen spoke without looking up. “I couldn’t match it, Stella. To have it like Stavros’ but not quite…I couldn’t stand that. I had to make it completely different. And this cost less.”

  “I understand,” Stella said.

  “Ky should be boarding the shuttle about now,” Helen said. “Grace was going to give us a signal—there it is—” She pointed to one light on the desk display. “She’s made it safely from her ship to the Spaceforce shuttle. It’ll be hours yet before she’s down. Might as well give you the grand tour.”

  The rooms, the arrangement of departments, all different from her memory. All the new division heads were strangers, as were all the people sitting at desks working, entering or retrieving data. All equipment was new, and the rooms could have belonged to any business. Stella’s offices on Cascadia looked much the same, she realized.

  —

  They were in the small executive lunchroom when Stella saw her mother stiffen and set down her glass of white wine. She waited, dread rising up her chest like a tide. Her mother’s face had paled.

  “The shuttle went down,” Helen said, her voice not quite steady.

  “Ky?”

  “They don’t know. It was in the ocean. They don’t have any location other than that.”

  “So she could still be alive.”

  “She could. But they—we—don’t know—”

  “Was that Grace calling, or someone else?”

  “Grace. She’s canceled all the ceremonies and said we should leave here. Go home, was her suggestion, before the news crews start stalking us.”

  “Do we have a secure connection to the local ansible?” Stella asked. She put down her fork and pushed back her chair.

  “Whom do you want to call?” And why, Helen’s expression said.

  “My people on Cascadia need to know, and I want to let Toby’s parents know. If someone did this to kill Ky, they might be after Vatta as a whole again. All our ships and facilities need to be warned.”

  Her mother stared. “Stella, wait! I wasn’t going to tell you yet, but you need to know now—”

  “What?” Stella had already stood up; she paused. Her mother still sat, looking as if she might faint. “What is it?”

  “I didn’t want to upset you—” Her mother shook her head. “Sorry. It’s about Osman. I can’t—we don’t know—”

  “What?” Stella sat back down. “Just tell me!”

  Her mother’s voice was low, choked with tears. “Osman. His sons. We mostly found girls. We were sure he had sons, but they weren’t in orphanages. Maxim—he’s one. There must be more; he may have had them nearby—”

  Stella closed her eyes a moment as the information sank in. Boys—of course he would have kept them where he could influence them—the most promising ones anyway—and aim them like invisible weapons at the family.

  “You’ve no idea how many? Or where?”

  “No. Don’t be angry with me, Stella; I was going to tell you on this visit, but—”

  “Never mind.” Stella opened her eyes; her mother’s face had crumpled as if made of wet paper, tears running down her face. Across the room one of the waiters hovered in the doorway, looking worried. “I’m not angry,” Stella went on, pitching her voice low. “But you need to dab some cold water on your eyes, and we need to get up and walk out together. Staff are noticing.”

  That worked, as it had in other emergencies when her father had said it. Her mother took a long breath, touched her napkin to her eyes, and then took another long breath.

  Stella went on. “I need to notify my office and have all Vatta facilities put on alert. I’m sure this will affect the legal procedures as well, so we’ll need to consult on that. Can you stand now?”

  “Y-yes. Of course.” Her mother’s voice firmed; she moved to push back her chair.

  Stella stood again and came around the table. Her own eyes were dry, burning dry, and her hands were steady as she helped her mother up. She caught the waiter’s eye. “Mother’s not feeling well; don’t worry.”

  “A glass of something, Sera?”

  “No thank you.”

  As they cleared the door, Stella said, “The secured combooth?”

  “That way.” Her mother nodded to the right.

  “Please contact Legal and tell them we’ll need an immediate conference when I’m through here,” Stella said.

  The combooth bore the familiar ISC logo, and Stella’s implant gave her the list of codes to use and the local time at the destination for each. Her own office now had round-the-clock coverage; she recognized the second-shift operator’s voice when he answered and identified herself.

  “Yes, Sera Vatta?”

  “We’ve had an incident here; I want you to raise the security status in the office and our docksides, and warn any Vatta ships insystem. Take all precautions.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. The shuttle with Admiral Vatta aboard has gone down; that’s all we know so far. But I have received information that makes tighter security essential. We must start checking DNA on all employees, and all applicants for employment, as of today. Priority emergency.”

  “What are we looking for?”

  “Osman Vatta’s other children,” Stella said. “I’ll explain when I get back.”

  “Got that,” he said. “You do realize, Sera, that under Cascadian laws, you will have to do this openly, or get a judicial order to review existing employee medical records?”

  She hadn’t. “Is anyone from Legal still in the office?”

  “No, Sera. But I can give you Ser Brogan’s number; it’s not that late.”

  “Please do,” Stella said. She read it into her implant. That would be another call. “Please do transmit to all the ships based from Cascadia that we now require a gene match against Osman Vatta’s DNA for all new hires; it will trigger a deeper background investigation.”

  “Yes, Sera.”

  “And thank you for your service this shift, Aldon. You have been most helpful.”

  “My pleasure, Sera. May you be safe in your travels.”

  Stella closed that link and opened another to Toby’s parents’ home. It was after midnight there, but she did not want to risk the boy’s safety by waiting; Toby’s genius was one of Vatta’s most precious resources. To her
surprise, Toby himself answered and she heard the sounds of people talking in the background.

  “Toby, it’s Stella Vatta. Are you all right?”

  “Cousin Stella!” He turned from the com and she heard him speak to his parents. “It’s Cousin Stella! She didn’t forget!”

  Didn’t forget? What was she supposed to have remembered? Then she did. The invitation to Toby’s graduation and after-party. It was on her calendar back on Cascadia—office and house both—but she hadn’t put it in her implant, and events had driven it from her mind.

  “I’m glad the party’s still going on,” she said. “Congratulations, Toby.”

  “Can I have that job now?”

  The job she’d promised him when he finished his basic schooling, a lab of his own to tinker in. “Toby, right now I can’t. I’m on Slotter Key, and there’s a situation. Let me talk to your parents, either of them.”

  “Oh. Sure.”

  The next voice was Toby’s father. “Cousin Stella.”

  “Cousin Ted. I’m sorry not to have called earlier, but we’ve had an emergency here on Slotter Key, and I’m raising the security level of all Vatta facilities.”

  “Not another bomb—”

  “No.” Not yet. She hoped not ever. “But you remember I was coming here to firm up some company legal stuff—”

  “Yes.”

  “My cousin Ky, as you know, is a major shareholder. She was to meet me here and formally agree to the rearrangements in person as required by Slotter Key law. Unfortunately, the shuttle she was on went down somewhere in the ocean. We must suspect sabotage until we know better, and I will not be able to leave here until we know whether she survived the crash.”

  “Do we still—do you really think we still have enemies?”

  “Yes,” Stella said. “And you need to take care, individually and in your department. From now on, all new hires must be tested for genetic linkage to Osman Vatta. And if your world permits, run the existing employees’ gene scans as well. If not, when I can, I’ll start dealing with the legality of that—”

  “It’s not a problem here. Our laws take into account the frequent use of short-lived DNA reboots. Everyone, or everyone of a certain age, or—?”

  “Anyone young enough to be Osman’s get,” Stella said. “To be safe, anyone under fifty.”

  “I’ll see to that locally,” he said. “Do you want to talk to Toby again? He’s pretty excited. He tied for first in his class. Guess who with.”

  “Zori,” Stella said. “Except perhaps in a tech class.” Zori, Toby’s girlfriend, was every bit as smart, but hadn’t had the same early education.

  “Yes. He tutored her in that one and she tutored him in law.”

  “Are they still so close, then?”

  “Indeed. Sera Louarri seems resigned to it now, though we parents all think they should wait longer. Not that young love can’t succeed, but they’re still so young.”

  Stella, remembering herself at that age, agreed. “Is Rascal still alive?”

  “That dog! I know how important he is to Toby, but how did you stand him in an apartment? We have space and he’s still a menace.” A pause, then, “And still bringing in an income, so I shouldn’t complain.”

  Stella laughed, surprising herself. “He’s a handful, true. Listen, I’m not going to tell Toby that Ky’s missing,” she said. “But I would like to talk to him.”

  Toby came back on the line with Zori beside him, as she could hear. She heard about their academic triumphs, about Zori’s decision to go on to university, and Toby’s wish to go straight back to the lab. “We can do both,” he said, his voice dropping a tone. “We can live near the university—a lab can be anywhere, can’t it?”

  “Just about,” she said. “But I’m afraid it’ll have to wait until I get back to Cascadia, Toby. It shouldn’t be too long; you can work in the local Vatta lab until then, but I can’t set up a new one until the legal complications here are worked out.”

  “That’s all right,” Toby said. “It’s just—I have some new ideas. Dad says not to talk about them, even on a secure line.”

  “Good,” said Stella. “I’m sorry, Toby, but I must go—I have appointments waiting. When I get back to Cascadia we’ll talk again about a lab for you. Be well.”

  “Be well, Cousin Stella.”

  Despite the gravity of the shuttle crash, Stella realized she was smiling as she closed that link. It was almost impossible to be gloomy around Toby and Zori. Who to call next? Ser Brogan, certainly, though that could wait until she got to the house, since it was late on Cascadia Station and he was probably in bed. Grace, though she would be busy; certainly they needed to talk. She didn’t need the combooth for that. Rafe. Her breath came short. She had to call Rafael Dunbarger, current CEO of InterStellar Communications. Once he heard that Ky was in danger, he would do something—something that might be disastrous.

  She should ask Grace first. No, she should most definitely not ask Aunt Grace. She didn’t have time for that; she had to contact Rafe, convince him not to intervene, before he heard about this via one of his clandestine communications networks and intervened on his own. She placed the call, after checking the time in his zone on Nexus II. Text, not voice: she did not want to talk to him; she had no answers for the questions he would ask. She tapped out the message, stark and plain. Before she was done, a knock on the combooth door distracted her. A screen came up, her mother on the typepad, fingers busy.

  ARE YOU ALL RIGHT? COME OUT NOW. I NEED YOU.

  She ended the call quickly and unsealed the booth.

  Her mother stood nearby, talking to a tall, dark, distinguished-looking man with graying hair. Helen turned to her.

  “This is Ser Targanyan, head of our Legal Department. He’s briefing me on the legal and tax problems we’ll face if Ky—or her body—can’t be found.”

  The last thing Stella wanted to think about. But she recognized the need. “In a secure office,” she said. Targanyan nodded and led them to Legal, and his office within it.

  “We’re shielded here,” he said. “I’m very sorry, Sera Vatta, Madam Chair, to bring this up when a search cannot even have been mounted, but we’ve already filed the preliminary papers for Sera Stella Vatta to become the CEO of Vatta Enterprises, Ltd., and whichever division is subordinate to have a subordinate executive. Here is the schematic Madam Chair and I had worked up—it will have to be approved, Sera Stella, when you take over.” A holo appeared between them. With a flick of his finger, he rotated it so that Stella could read the labels.

  “It looks like a reasonable organization,” Stella said.

  “Thank you, Sera. The difficulty is not in this so much—you can change it, of course, as you think best—but in the fact that we have this as part of the filing. And we set the date for a court appearance, based on your and your cousin Admiral Vatta’s presence here over the next several days. If she is not quickly found and transported here, I’ll have to change the court date, and we may need to re-file. That will delay things across your fiscal year boundary, with tax consequences. It might be better to let the court know now that we won’t make the hearing because of the accident.”

  “We’ll need to talk to the Rector,” Stella said. As he started to speak, she shook her head. “I know, she’s not holding Ky’s proxy, and she hasn’t the shares to overturn any decisions my mother and I make, but she should be in the loop. This is a political and military matter now: Ky was coming down on a Spaceforce shuttle. Releasing information about the crash should at least have her permission.” And the sooner Grace knew that Rafe knew, the better, painful as that interview might be.

  He frowned. “I see—yes, Sera, that is quite correct. But unfortunate.”

  “The crash is unfortunate,” Helen said. “This is merely inconvenient.” Her gaze was steady, her eyes dry.

  “Exactly,” Stella said. “And it may be that Grace can give us an answer immediately.” She hated using a skullphone, but in this instance its securit
y features tipped the scale—no one could tap into Grace’s end of the conversation. She entered Grace’s office number, and argued her way through two layers of underlings before Grace came on.

  “Yes, Stella, what?”

  Stella ignored the tone. “Ser Targanyan at Vatta HQ Legal says we need to inform the court if Ky isn’t going to be there for the filing on the new organization. Ideally, today or tomorrow, because the judge is an idiot—”

  “I did not say that,” Targanyan said, eyes wide.

  “No, I did,” Stella said. “So, Aunt Grace, can we do that, or do you have the shuttle crash under some kind of security wrap?”

  “It just came unwrapped,” Grace said. If she was as angry as she sounded, Stella was very glad not to be in the same building, let alone the same office. “I got a call from a media outlet wanting confirmation that the shuttle had gone down. And I have a strong suspicion who the leak came from, and he is—” A pause. Grace’s voice, now mellow as cream, finished with, “So, I think it’s perfectly reasonable to inform the court of a possible—no, call it a probable—delay in the filing of that paperwork. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have visitors.” The contact ended.

  Stella smiled at Targanyan, who was still glaring at her. “See how quick that was?” she said. “Aunt Grace said go ahead and inform the court of a probable delay. You can do that right away. Mother and I need to return to the house for now; it’s a security matter.”

  “Just a moment,” her mother said. “Stella, Ser Targanyan—please, I simply cannot go on as before. Stella, please take over. I’m—I’m done.” Her eyes filled with tears again. She stood up, wavering a little. Stella moved quickly to offer her arm.

  “Come, Mother; I’ll help you downstairs.” She looked back to see Ser Targanyan openmouthed behind them.

  “You enjoyed that,” Helen said when they were in the lift.