One immediate effect of the new stability was Immigration immediately crediting Ky with the required half-year residency for her time on Miksland, expediting all her paperwork, and converting Rafe’s visa to permanent residence as long as Ky vouched for him. Teague’s visa was extended for another half year.
Rafe called with that news and asked if she would be coming to the Vatta house anytime soon.
“Not yet,” Ky said. “The cadet corps is still unsettled—” The aftermath of combat had caught up with several of the cadets. “They need me.” She paused; the silence on the com deepened. “And I need you. The Commandant’s Residence isn’t as big or fancy as that house, but it’s bigger than a spaceship.”
“Won’t that cause a problem?”
“I won’t let it,” Ky said.
“I love it when you sound commanding,” Rafe said. “Two hours?”
“I’ll notify the gate. You’ll be escorted to the guest suite. I’ll be on the drill field then, discussing the condition of the turf and how it’s going to be fixed by graduation.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Those tracked earthmovers we borrowed from the Joint Services base. Frozen ground or no, they claim the gouges are so deep the turf can’t possibly be repaired by graduation. I suspect it can, but the groundsmen want me to be amazed when they accomplish it.”
That night, Rafe and Ky relaxed in the office adjoining her bedroom, talking as they had not since returning from Corleigh. When no interruptions had come for a full hour and a half, Ky led the way into her suite. Rafe stopped short, staring at the bed. “What in the world?”
“The insignia of each branch. Hand-carved, not molded. It’s old, from when the Academy was founded. It’s considered irreplaceable, so we’d best not damage it.”
“And all those coms on the bedside—that’s the side you sleep on?”
“Yes. The three colors are important. And it’s almost certain that at least one of them will ring every night.”
He walked to the other side of the bed, where the Spaceforce insignia’s spiky nose protruded. “Did anyone ever sleep on this side? This thing looks like it’s designed to puncture someone’s skull.”
“I have no idea.” Ky was grinning at his expression. “Maybe they had lots of pillows.”
Rafe felt the tip of the carving and shook his head. “I wouldn’t trust pillows. That would poke through anything less than three centimeters of solid wood. Perhaps it was intended to ensure a Commandant’s celibacy.”
“Too late,” Ky said. “Maybe the intent was to move the Commandant to this side of the bed, where the com connections were.”
“Whatever,” Rafe said. “I think we’d be more comfortable somewhere else.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Surely you’d like to see the interesting etchings in my guest suite, Admiral.”
“I’ll have to switch the coms over to that room. Commandants are on call all the time.”
“Fine with me. Better than being stabbed by a spaceship.”
No call came that night.
Ky’s first call the next day was from General Molosay. “You’ll be hearing from President Saranife sometime today; she has an offer to make and I hope you will consider it favorably.”
“You can’t give me a hint?”
“No, I can’t. I can tell you that the heads of all the branches were consulted and agreed, as did the Council.”
“Thank you for letting me know, General,” Ky said as possibilities bubbled up. None of them things she wanted to do.
Her next call was from Stella. “Did I tell you about the attacks on Vatta property back on Cascadia?”
“No…”
“Anger over Jen Bentik’s death, by a Bentik relative. Same as the reason for their putting a hold on your financials and mine. Well—their court decided that the Bentik family had breached the courtesy laws by not informing us—individually—of their grievance and giving us a chance to ask for arbitration prior to trial. The attack on my employees and property damage without prior reference to legal proceedings meant they were in the wrong, so they unfroze our accounts. Now I can finally pay you for your shares—and you’ve got your severance pay. If I were you, I’d transfer it fast.”
“Won’t that make them angry?”
“The money’s with Crown & Spears, and Crown & Spears doesn’t talk.”
“I’ll have to go personally,” Ky said. “I’ll try to do that today.”
“Aunt Grace is still determined to resign,” Stella said.
“I know. I think she’s right.”
“Yes, but—she wants to do it publicly.”
“It won’t hurt Vatta’s business,” Ky said. “It may help if we go quiet the way the family used to be.”
“I suppose. The Vatta house is secure enough now and almost refurbished. I’m moving back in but with some live-in staff. Mother’s keeping the children on Corleigh to the end of this school year and I don’t want to be alone.”
Ky’s call to Crown & Spears, the interstellar banking giant, went smoothly—but yes, they did need her to appear in person, with her current Slotter Key ID, and provide a bio sample. “Just in case. I mean, Admiral—Commandant—we know who you are, but our auditors—”
“That’s fine,” Ky said. “I’ll be there in an hour or so.”
“Anytime, Commandant. At your convenience.”
Her official car, the one with the little flag displayed in front, took her to the Crown & Spears offices downtown. The street had a row of track marks down it from the invading force’s personnel carriers, but otherwise traffic was back to normal and she saw no damage from the fighting. The invaders had been so eager to get to the government buildings they’d bypassed other targets.
“Luckily,” said the manager who greeted her, “there was only one incident, over on Promenade, the Hassel & Sons hattery, but it was only one broken window, no other loss. Let me just check you in. Retinal scan, fingerprints, and do you have DNA mods of any kind?”
“No,” Ky said. She put her hands on the plate and looked into the hood.
“We’re comparing with both your previous information provided here and that on Cascadia—it will be just a few minutes. Perhaps you’d like tea? And did you need any information about local investment opportunities?”
Very shortly her identification scans cleared, and she had transferred her balance on Cascadia to the local branch here on Slotter Key. While she was still there, the transfer from Vatta for her shares came in. And her skullphone pinged. It was her clerk at the Academy.
“Commandant, the President would like to see you; I told her you were away from the Academy, and she asked if you could stop by the Palace on your way back.”
The bank manager slid a message to her—the total now in her account. Half a spaceship? Maybe. Ky held up a finger and answered. “Yes, please tell the President I will be on my way there shortly.”
The bank manager smiled, as if having a bank client sending messages to the President was a credit to the bank. Maybe it was, Ky thought, as she turned to him. “Excuse me—I need to leave now, but I will discuss my plans with you later.” When she knew what they were.
The government center was an ugly mess, glassless windows staring darkly at furrowed ground, dirty snow, and men in uniform poking through the piles for weapons and bodies. Rows of trucks lined the margins of the plaza, some for equipment and some for bodies. The towerless Palace looked completely different from before. Better, Ky thought. But inside, the halls had been swept and Ky walked on carpets—stained but still in place—to the President’s office.
There she found President Saranife, General Molosay, and several other officers, along with the Chair of the Council.