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.