Victory Conditions

by Elizabeth Moon

  “—just in, a vid apparently sent by ansible to at least a dozen system governments. We’re not sure of the source, but analysis suggests that it is, as it claims, an actual unedited vid. The person you will see identifies himself as Gammis Turek and claims to represent a large force—I must warn you, this vid contains disturbing images and language, unsuitable for children. But we feel it is urgent—”

  Stella felt cold to her bones. Gammis Turek. The man Ky insisted had been connected to Osman Vatta and the attack on their family…and behind the disruption of the ansible network, and the conquest of systems like Bissonet and Polson.

  The screen changed, so the explosion filled it. This time, it did not repeat, but changed to a man in a dark-red-and-black uniform, standing against a background of a night sky, arms folded across his chest. He seemed tall, though without any background clues it was impossible to say how tall: dark-haired, dark-eyed, a strong-boned face that might have been attractive if not for the expression.

  “You will all know my name,” he said. He had a strong accent, but Stella had no difficulty understanding his words. “You will all fear my name.” He seemed to be looking through the camera, right into Stella’s eyes; she felt exposed for a moment, even though she knew he could not possibly see her. He had to have personality mods, to convey that much command presence in a recording. “I am Gammis Turek,” he said. He paused. His mellow voice, perfectly modulated to convey strength, determination, menace, was far more frightening than the harsh bellow of a thriller actor.

  “You must understand this,” he said. “I can isolate your world at any moment. My fleets control the spaceways; my forces can disrupt ansible communications whenever I wish. I have many allies; their forces, too, are at my command. I have more ships than any system militia and weapons that can turn your home worlds into cinders.” A carefully measured pause. “If you force me to use them against you, I will have no mercy. You and those you love, everything you have worked for, will die in an instant. Here is one proof of it.”

  Now the scene showed an expansive office, where well-dressed civilians, all clearly humods, backed away from armed men wearing Turek’s maroon and black colors.

  “They argued with my commands,” Turek said. The troops fired, in short bursts, and people fell, some screaming at first, until at last the room fell silent. “They did not obey,” Turek said in a voice-over, as the scene shifted to a brief battle between a rock-throwing mob and the soldiers. “That was Polson,” Turek said. “I own it now. I own its jump points. I own its ansibles. Only my people live on the world once called Polson. And it is not the only one.” The scene changed to a ruined city, smoke rising from shattered buildings. “Here someone killed one of my men. Just one. Hundreds died here, maybe thousands. It doesn’t matter to me. I do not tolerate disobedience.” He did not sound angry, but like someone stating an undeniable fact.

  The scene shifted again, this time to an image of an ansible platform exploding, then again to Turek standing as before.

  “Do not make the mistake of thinking this an idle boast. Or that you can save yourselves by banding together. It is too late for that. My agents are everywhere: those of you who conspire against me will regret it.” He smiled, a chilling smile that was at the same time alluring. Stella remembered from her brief bad affair what strings were being pulled here. “Remember my name. Expect me. I am coming.”

  The announcer reappeared. “We have no way of knowing whether this is some kind of scam, or whether this person really exists and actually is behind the recent disturbing events we reported some time ago—the apparent overthrow of the governments of Bissonet and Polson by a foreign force. But we felt this was important enough to bring to the public. We have already sent this vid to the Moscoe Confederation Defense Department, who are now analyzing it further. We will keep you informed.”

  Stella tabbed back to the spreadsheet she’d been working on. Cascadia felt a lot less safe than it had a few minutes ago; she had been so sure that nothing would happen here until Ky reappeared, and then Ky would take care of it—or someone would—and she could go on leading Vatta Enterprises and Vatta Transport. And there was nothing she could do, really, except make sure that new onboard ansibles came off the production line as fast as possible. One production line might not be enough; she might as well work on costing a proposal.

  Ten minutes later, her implant scheduler reminded her that her ward Toby would be back soon from school; foreign crisis or no foreign crisis, she could not put off any longer a serious talk about a purely personal matter.

  She waited until Toby had engulfed his usual after-school snack before broaching the topic she knew would upset him.

  “Toby, I need to speak to you about your friendship with Zori.”

  “Why?” From his expression he suspected the reason.

  “Her family isn’t happy with it, for one thing. If you were both older, that wouldn’t matter…well, it wouldn’t matter on Slotter Key; I’m not sure what the courtship rituals are on such a courteous place as this. But you’re not older, and her family has a right to influence her choices.”

  “She likes me.” Toby’s face settled into a stubborn expression. Zori was his first girlfriend, and he had fallen as hard as a boy his age could fall.

  “Yes, so I gather from her mother. But their concern is twofold: we are not an old Cascadian famly, and we are the wrong religion.”

  “We can’t help it that we just got here,” Toby said. “It’s not like we’re criminals or anything.”

  “No. But—” Stella sighed. This was a part of the caution common to prominent families that she had not understood herself, at Toby’s age, and her own stubbornness had caused no end of trouble. “They’re just being careful of her, Toby. They think—right or wrong doesn’t matter—that she will be happier with someone of her own kind—someone whose family they know.”

  “She doesn’t care about those boys,” Toby said. “She cares about me.”

  “That may be, but it doesn’t change the fact that her family would prefer she not care about you that much.”

  “We’re not doing anything,” Toby said, flushing in a way that suggested they probably were, though Stella hoped not as much as she herself had. “All we did was—kind of—you know—I mean, I touched her hair.”

  Stella knew, to the marrow of her bones, what Toby was feeling, and also what magnitude of trouble that could cause.

  “They’re her parents. You don’t want to get her in trouble—”

  “No, of course not. But they—”

  “Are her parents,” Stella repeated. “Look, I’ve had two long talks with her mother. Explained—” Stella caught herself. Telling Toby she’d told Zori’s mother that the two were in no danger, that it was their first attraction, that they’d get out of it faster if the parents stayed calm, would only make Toby determined to prove how serious they were and how permanent their affection. “I explained that we were a respectable, even prominent family on Slotter Key, that you were a responsible young man. They’re not accusing you or her of anything…wrong. They agree that you’re intelligent and well mannered. But they’re adamant that she quit visiting here unless I guarantee adult supervision. And even then, not more than twice a week.”

  “Here? But it’s our office! It’s—it’s a public place. It doesn’t even have a bed!” Though not because he hadn’t asked for one, so he could stay overnight working on his projects. Stella forbore to remind him of that.

  “Toby, this isn’t about you, specifically. It’s their culture, their family, their daughter.”

  He had hardened his jaw, but now he nodded slowly. “I suppose…I should be glad that they didn’t forbid her to visit at all.”

  “You’re right. And they want to meet both of us. Two meetings: one with me alone, and one just you and her parents.”

  “Zori didn’t say anything—”

  “She may not know yet, and for this meeting she won’t be coming. Her mother suggested lunch at
a nice restaurant, and I agreed. Her father may or may not make it.”

  “So when—”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Can I tell—?”

  “I see no reason why you can’t tell Zori today that I’m meeting her mother for lunch tomorrow. But if I were you, I would not be too specific about why. Her parents have a right to tell her what they want her to know.”

  “It’s not fair to keep things from people—” Toby began.

  “It’s also not fair to start trouble between members of another family,” Stella said.

  “Liking someone isn’t starting trouble,” Toby said.

  “It can be,” Stella said, with a rush of all-too-vivid memories.

  Stella arrived at The Glade, the restaurant Zori’s mother had suggested, a few minutes early; her security team ran its usual check, and she signed them in with the maître d’. “Ser and Sera Louarri aren’t here yet,” he said. “If the sera would like to wait in the lounge?”

  “Thank you,” Stella said, glad of a few quiet moments alone to collect herself. The morning had been a chaotic scramble as worried officials demanded to know when ansibles on order could be delivered and where Ky was and when the promised Slotter Key ships would arrive. News outlets had played Turek’s speech over and over; normally courteous Cascadians were even snapping at one another and at Stella. The familiar dance of family relationships could not be as stressful as her morning, even if it turned out badly for Toby.

  The lounge extended the Cascadian theme of forest design to include a floor covering that looked, felt, and smelled like a carpet of real moss, a sound system projecting the rustle of leaves in the breeze and birdsong, and visuals that produced moving shadows and lights on the surfaces, as if sun glimmered through leaves. Stella appreciated the artistry, but wished some decorator would choose another theme…a beach, perhaps, or a mountain lake, or a meadow full of bright flowers. Surely the planet wasn’t all forested.

  “Ah, Sera Vatta!” The woman who came into the lounge was older and had once been in Stella’s class of beauty, but dark-haired, like Zori. Now she had the thin, brittle look of someone fighting a long illness or under great stress. Her ice-green suit fit perfectly; her jewelry was obviously expensive but not flashy.

  “Sera Louarri, what a pleasure!” Stella said. She knew she was being examined and evaluated in the same way she looked at Zori’s mother. Hair, manicure, makeup, clothes, jewelry, shoes…she had correctly guessed the right level, and Sera Louarri acknowledged that with the briefest change in expression. As far as fashion went, they were equals.

  “I’m not sure if my husband will make it,” Sera Louarri said; her voice was tense, as if expecting Stella to complain. “He sent me a message; something at work had come up—”

  “I quite understand,” Stella said. “Should we wait, in case—?”

  “A few minutes only, if you don’t mind,” Sera Louarri said. She sat upright on the edge of her chair. “He said if he was not here in ten minutes he would not be coming, but—”

  “You have a charming daughter,” Stella said, hoping to put her more at ease.

  “I hope she hasn’t been too forward,” Sera Louarri said. “She’s…she’s vivacious sometimes, she speaks out. Her father—” She gulped. “Her father indulges her.”

  Stella wondered if the woman was ill, or if meeting her daughter’s boyfriend’s guardian was really such a strain. “Not at all forward,” she said. “Very polite, I would think by the standards of your world as well as mine.”

  “Would you tell me something of your—and I assume Toby’s—world?”

  “I grew up onplanet,” Stella said. “The main family house was in the country, though my father’s business took him to the city much of the time—” She noticed that Sera Louarri’s face relaxed. Was it the country, or the city? “Slotter Key has four main continents and a lot of good-sized islands. The family as a whole has tik plantations on several subtropical islands, but we lived in a temperate zone—stone fruits in our orchards, lovely in the spring. My cousin Ky—you have heard of her, I know—lived on one of the tropical islands, with reefs just offshore on the east side. We visited each other often.”

  “You could grow Old Earth stone fruits in quantity?”

  “Oh, yes. Exported the fruit and nursery stock offworld—for some reason, the result of terraforming there worked for all the rose-family plants, and our family lands had varied terrain so we could grow just about all of them. The first time I went outsystem, I was amazed to find that not all planets could grow them, even after terraforming.”

  “You must have traveled a lot,” Sera Louarri said, sounding wistful. “And so young. Did your family approve?”

  Surely she had heard…Stella explained, as if no one could be expected to have done research. The family business, the habit of sending young people out to sample the universe.

  “I also grew up onplanet,” Sera Louarri said. “My family has—had—timberland. We export hardwoods, you know. The native vegetation, not Terran.”

  “But for food?”

  “Oh, farmland’s terraformed, of course. But not the forests; the native trees have incredible wood. My family were Firsters.” She seemed more relaxed now, more confident. “We had a grant that covered all the ground from the coast to the inland range, for a thousand kilometers.”

  “We called them Chartered,” Stella said, smiling. “The first colonists on Slotter Key. Vatta’s Chartered.”

  “You are?” Sera Louarri peered at her a moment. “But that’s the same—?”

  “If I understand Firsters. Your family goes back to the colony foundation, and you were investors, right?”

  “Right.” Now Sera Louarri sat back a little, and her smile widened. “And your nephew, he grew up the same?”

  “Not exactly. His parents live in another system, running a branch operation. I’m not really familiar with his home world.”

  “My husband’s business also operates in multiple systems,” Sera Louarri said. “But you—you’re not married?”

  “No,” Stella said.

  “And your family does not mind? They do not press you for an alliance with another?”

  “My family,” Stella said, carefully controlling her tone, “is mostly dead. But my father wanted me to have experience, he said, before I married. If I married.”

  “Zori is too young to marry.”

  Stella just managed not to laugh. “So is Toby, of course. But young people—they will form attachments.”

  Sera Louarri’s gaze wandered away and back. “I think my husband is not coming, and we should go in to lunch.”

  Cascadian custom prohibited business discussion at most meals—certainly in a place like The Glade—and Stella wondered if the follies of youth were considered business. Through the appetizer, Sera Louarri said nothing of the youngsters, commenting only on the food.

  With the next course, she made a few comments about Zori’s upbringing, the importance of their traditional religious rites. “And your family?” she said.

  “We are not of the same faith as you,” Stella said. “But if I understand correctly, yours originated from the Modulan, did it not?”

  Sera Louarri nodded. “Our beliefs are also descended from Modulans. So…you are opposed to unnecessary conflict? Our emphasis on courtesy and serenity does not seem excessive to you?”

  “Not at all,” Stella said.

  Not until dessert came did Sera Louarri bring up the matter at hand. “I shouldn’t be eating this,” she said first, taking a small mouthful of berry pie. “My husband—and I do not wish to become plump, you understand.”

  Stella, already halfway through her own pie, thought Sera Louarri was already overthin. Did her husband like her that way? And what, in Cascadian custom, was the polite response?

  Sera Louarri did not wait for a response. “I am reassured by what you tell me of your family, and having met you, by you yourself. It did bother us that you were only Toby’s guardian, not h
is mother. I understand the events that made that necessary. And I apologize for being influenced by the unfortunate revelations in that legal matter.”

  A tactful way of saying that Stella was a notorious criminal’s bastard. Stella admired the woman’s euphemistic skirting of brutal fact. “It certainly came as a surprise to me,” she said.

  “Of course. And your adoptive family was, both from what you say and by the evidence of your own behavior, what we could hope for in one of Zori’s companions. I hope you do not find our concern too offensive.”

  “Not at all,” Stella said. “Your daughter is a lovely girl, and any responsible parent would be concerned.” Should she add that she was equally concerned that Zori be suitable for Toby? Probably not; it might be construed as an insufficiently veiled insult.

  “We would very much like to have Toby visit us at home,” Sera Louarri said. “When my husband is there, perhaps for lunch? Not a school day, of course.”

  “I’m sure he would be delighted,” Stella said. Sera Louarri suggested the next nonschool day, and Stella accepted on Toby’s behalf. She returned to the office refreshed; though there were monsters loose in the universe, boys and girls still fell in love, and parents and guardians still schemed to keep them safe.

  CHAPTER

  TWO

  T oby picked up slang as easily as any other information, and Zori Louarri, out of class, had a colorful collection of words that sounded like nothing else. “Bistim gai,” she said, nudging him with an elbow and glancing at a schoolmate neither of them much liked. Bortan asked questions just to delay the class.

  “Prot,” Toby said. It was like a secret language, Zori’s slang, a way around Cascadia’s fussy formality. And so far no one had complained about it. Everyone had been on edge anyway, with more to worry about than adolescents using slang that might—if understood—be rude.

  “E-prot,” she said, grinning. It was rude, very rude indeed, but it was also funny. Toby grinned back. She switched to normal language. “My parents will be pleased to meet you, I’m sure. I know Mother has been—” She paused, clearly thinking how to say it; they both knew that her mother and Toby’s aunt had locked horns with the utmost courtesy and determination. “—less than understanding of your family’s position back home. Now that the Slotter Key ansible is back up—”