Ky looked up, surprised. “The Academy didn’t release numerical standings prior to graduation,” she said. “But I was in the honor corps.” It still hurt, she found, but the tears were easier to control now.
“I don’t find that surprising,” the Colonel said. “You know, you reacted much more like a military officer than a civilian ship’s captain. It was a creditable performance, Captain Vatta, a very creditable performance. If you were a junior officer in my command, I’d be putting you in for a citation.”
Ky choked back the “Really?” that wanted to come out in a schoolgirlish squeak. “Thank you, Colonel,” she said in what was almost a normal voice. She could not help the internal warmth that she hoped didn’t show in her face.
“Now—we have some financial business to conduct. I have the amended contract with me—I understand Major Harris has gone over the provisions with you?”
“Yes, he has,” Ky said.
“I understand that your company’s legal staff has vetted part of it—the per diem for extra time and a bonus for inconvenience, delay, damage—but since at that time no one knew about the mutiny, we did not include any settlement for the death of a crewmember and so on. If you feel you need to wait until Vatta’s legal staff has approved this additional settlement, ISC tells us the communications ansible should be up for limited service in a day or so. Or, we can deposit the amount agreed on by your company’s lawyers now, and defer the rest until that part of the contract is approved. It’s your call, Captain.”
If she waited for approval, what would the company lawyers say? More important, what would her father say? What if he ordered her, in his position as CFO of Vatta Transport, to turn over her cargo to Furman? She was not going to do that. She was absolutely not, not going to do that.
“You’re right that it’s complicated,” she said slowly. “My contract with Belinta, to deliver the cargo that was aboard when your people boarded us, was a personal contract, not a Vatta Transport contract—within my discretion, but not committing the company to it. The company would honor it, had I been unable to fulfill it, but that’s not the case. However, this ship is presently owned by Vatta Transport, and her crew—barring those I picked up here on Sabine Prime—are employees of Vatta Transport. So that portion of the settlement which pertains to the death of a crewman must reference Vatta Transport, Ltd. I can, as a Vatta captain, make a valid contract in the name of the firm—including a death settlement—but that is in a different category from contracts for carriage.” She paused. “I feel that the contract should cite a specific amount as death settlement for Gary Tobai—that is the part of the contract which must be with Vatta Transport, Ltd., rather than with me.”
“It doesn’t now, but it could,” Colonel Kalin said. “I presume you would then want a separate transfer for that amount?”
“Yes. It would make clear to the company that I consider the rest of the contract a personal one.”
“Let’s talk to Major Harris,” the Colonel said. His eyes glazed slightly—his implant, of course. Ky wondered how much he depended on it in combat situations. His gaze returned to her. “He says that makes sense; he suggests one hundred thousand credits as the amount, and says a handwritten emendation, initialed by both of us, will be adequate.”
That was about right, Ky knew. On Slotter Key, the standard scale of compensation for unintended death was graduated by age and expertise, but 100,000 covered most cases. “That will do,” she said, mentally subtracting 100,000 from the total payment. It still left enough for the repairs she needed. She took the hardcopy of the contract, flipped through the pages, and wrote in the margin an addendum specifying 100,000 credits compensation for the death of crewman Gary Tobai, signed it, and slid it across to Kalin for his initials.
“Send that to Captain Furman,” she said. “He is the senior Vatta captain here, and he will be best suited to receive funds due the company. I’ve already sent Major Harris the account information for my part.”
Kalin cocked his head at her. “Captain, I begin to believe you are devious as well as competent. It almost sounds as if you’re about to leave Vatta Transport…”
“No,” Ky said. But her voice carried little conviction. She hadn’t had time to think about it, and yet… Vatta offered her security, security and ease—as long as she stayed in the narrow lanes they advised.
Kalin leaned back. “You know, Captain, with your background—and considering your performance—you might be better suited for something other than a glorified truck driver.”
“I seem to be suited for getting into trouble,” Ky said, looking down at her hands.
“Exactly.” Kalin nodded. “You get into trouble, but then you get out of it—you survive, and you even prosper. You’re not cut out for boring monotony. Just being thrown out of one military academy doesn’t preclude going into the military, you know. We might even hire you.” He grinned at her.
“Hire me?” Her gaze came back to him; her heart pounded. She could feel the heat in her face. “Why would you hire me?”
“Let’s see…” He ticked off points on his fingers. “One of my senior NCOs said you handled the boarding well; she wasn’t surprised to find out you had a military background. You didn’t panic when you woke up in a military sick bay—and yes, though you had meds in your system, I’ve seen people panic with those same meds onboard. You accepted the challenge of carrying an overload of passengers, and you coped with every emergency they supplied, including a mutiny. You can make quick decisions—and more important, the right quick decisions. You aren’t squeamish. And you can kill at need.”
And enjoy it came the response she did not want to reveal. For one moment she imagined herself in a Mackensee uniform, commanding a real unit… working up to command a real ship, a warship.
“I have a cargo to deliver,” she said, trying to push that vision aside. “I promised them.”
“Then you have to do what you promised,” he said. He said it the way she felt about it, as much a fact as 9 x 3 = 27. “But think about it, Captain Vatta. If you ever change your mind and want to apply, get in touch with me.” His gaze unfocused again, then refocused on her. “There. I’ve instructed Major Harris to make the transfers. That should be complete in a few minutes. I know you’ll be busy working on repairs, but you’ll be welcome aboard my ship, if you care to visit while we’re here. Just call over and we’ll set up a time. The officers usually meet for a half hour about 1800, before dinner.”
Go aboard a warship again? She wanted to, and she was afraid that her desire showed in her expression. “Thank you,” she said. “It will depend on how the repairs go…”
“Of course. It’s been a pleasure, Captain Vatta.” His handshake was military-firm; his expression the one she would like to have seen on her father’s face, instead of that worried concern.
When Colonel Kalin left, she still had to face meetings with Sabine Prime officials and Captain Furman’s representative; she didn’t look forward to either.
Sabine Prime had sent a woman with the title of “Second Assistant Secretary to the Department of Foreign Affairs.” Unlike the ISC representative, Gillian Favor was a vivacious young woman who waved her hands a lot when she talked.
“We have several issues, Captain Vatta,” she said. “I suppose you know that we are charged with administering the Universal Commercial Code, so we have to report on your handling of the passengers assigned you by Mackensee and the incidents which resulted in the deaths of… er…” She looked at a list. “Captain Paison, his mate, Captain Kristoffson, and your two crewmen. Then we also need to know what, if anything, you knew about the plot to blow up the ansibles before you left this station.”
“I knew nothing about it—my first knowledge of the attack came when I tried to make an ansible call and the ready light didn’t come on, and then the standby light went out.”