Элизабет Мун - Into the Fire

“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.

“I must thank you,” the President said, coming forward to shake hands. “I admit to being worried—even scared at times—but you were right. Dispersing the members of government to different private homes was safer than staying here, even in the basement.”

“I’m glad it worked,” Ky said.

“The reason we asked you here,” Saranife said, with a glance around at the others, “is that we wanted to thank you and offer you a permanent position. Everyone agrees that you’re the right person for the job, a fitting successor to the great men who have held it before you. You don’t have to answer today, though we would be thrilled if you accepted right away.” Nods from the others. “We would like to make your appointment as Commandant permanent. It’s not just the defense of the government during the recent conflict, but the work you have done with the cadets—”

Ky had a moment of panic. They wanted her to stay on as Commandant permanently? “I’m honored you thought of me,” she said, “but you have many qualified officers who are actually graduates of the Academy, officers of more experience and seniority. I was appointed in an emergency; the emergency is over—”

“You’re not—you can’t leave now!”

“I can’t stay forever, either. I don’t feel I have the qualifications I would need to be a good long-term Commandant.” Not to mention having the wrong personality and the wrong ambitions.

“But—you’ll surely finish out the semester—if you won’t accept, it will take us time to choose someone in a more deliberate fashion.”

Despite their words, Ky felt a relaxation in the room. They had wound themselves up to offer it—everyone had agreed because they felt they had to—but in fact they were relieved, even if they didn’t know it yet. “Tell you what,” she said. “Suppose I stay through graduation this year, a bit longer if you can’t find someone right away, but no longer than three years beyond that. And I’d prefer that you find someone sooner.”

“Well.” Molosay’s gaze swept around the group of officers again. He gave a slight shrug. “I guess we’ll have to find someone, then.”

“The sooner the better,” Ky said. “And if you’ll allow—though I admired Commandant Burleson enormously, I suggest setting a firm limit to anyone’s tenure as Commandant. Six or eight or ten years, perhaps. Their experience with troops will be more recent. And the opportunity—the temptation—to become involved in politics will be much less.” To arrange the suicide of a President, for instance, which must surely be on everyone’s mind.

“You disapprove of Burleson’s action?”

“I wasn’t here,” Ky said. “It may have been the correct thing to do under the circumstances. But his being Commandant so long raised suspicions about the military, didn’t it?”

“Yes…”

“And for some people, both in and out of the military, it gave support to the disaffection that erupted recently. Some knew of the connection between Burleson and my family—and took that as proof we were trying to manipulate the military and government.”

Two of the officers, though not Molosay, nodded.

“You know your aunt is determined to resign as Rector of Defense,” Saranife said.

“Yes, and I think she’s right to do so. She did not know about the conditions of her release from prison—but once she found out, her resignation was imperative.”

“So I have to find a new Rector and a new Commandant,” Saranife said. She shrugged. “Well, nobody said this job would be easy.” She turned to Ky. “To celebrate your recent actions and your new—we hoped—post, we have refreshments set out in the next room. Do you have time—?”

“Sera, I always have time for pastries.”

The group moved into the next room, but the meeting broke up quickly. “What will you do?” Saranife asked Ky as she was leaving. “You’re not in the family business now—have you a plan?”

“Get the cadets through this semester and the graduating class through graduation. Later—well, something will come up. It always does.”

Benny Quindlan fingered the weapon he carried, checking again that it was loaded, charged, ready to use. He had returned to Port Major only the day before, tracking his uncle Michael from a distance. He had paid for a temporary DNA assist the day after his wife died in the hospital—a blend that came under the heading “cosmetic enhancement” rather than “identity replacement”—and so far had been able to travel unrecognized just by changing his clothes and putting a small lift in one shoe.