The Consuming Fire (The Interdependency)

by John Scalzi

  Kiva snorted at this, and looked around again at the empty warehouse. “Why am I only finding out about this now?”

  “About this warehouse?”

  “Yes.”

  Patz shrugged. “For as much money is involved in this little graft scheme, it’s less than one percent of the local inventory for the House of Nohamapetan and of course even less than that for the total amount of house merchandise. The inventory comes and goes, so these warehouses don’t stay empty for long.” She waved at the warehouse. “We caught these mostly because House of Lagos taking over for the Nohamapetans meant we had to do an audit. In a few more days this warehouse and several of the others would be full up again.”

  “How the fuck were they hiding this?”

  “That’s the magic of having your clients weeks or months away. When the shipments arrive, if there are any shortfalls, the orders are either adjusted to factor in the missing inventory or made good with a later shipment. In both cases the shrinkage is chalked up as business losses and deducted out of taxes. In order to see it as anything else, you’d have to do an audit of the entire business.”

  “Which the Nohamapetans weren’t going to do because they were the ones skimming,” Kiva said.

  “Well,” Patz’s voice held a note of caution. “We don’t have any concrete evidence of that yet.”

  “Except for Nadashe Nohamapetan apparently funding an attempted fucking coup of the Interdependency out of petty cash.”

  “There is that,” Patz murmured.

  “Are we going to be able to cover these shortfalls?” Kiva asked. “Unlike the fucking Nohamapetans, we can’t actually pretend this inventory fell off the ship in the middle of the Flow.”

  “That’s out of my department,” Patz said. “I imagine you can shift things around, but regardless you’re out the fifty million marks. I’m having my people go through the accounting for the last decade to find out how extensive this skimming operation actually was.”

  “You think you’re going to find more.”

  Patz looked at her boss levelly. “Lady Kiva, graft on this scale doesn’t just happen. We’re probably looking at hundreds of millions of marks’ worth. Possibly billions.”

  “Coups don’t come cheap,” Kiva said.

  “I suppose not, ma’am.”

  “Do we know where the fucking money is, at least?”

  “Not yet. We don’t have the authority to go looking, outside of the House of Nohamapetan’s local account. The personal accounts of the family members and any other unrelated accounts are outside our purview. I’m sharing information with the imperial Ministry of Revenue, of course. They’ll be able to do a more extensive investigation.”

  “Any money they find, I want back.”

  “I have to warn you that the Ministry of Revenue is very unlikely to honor that request.”

  “Fuck them.”

  “Yes,” agreed Patz. “But there’s the matter that the House of Nohamapetan probably owes back taxes and penalties. That will almost certainly be worth more than the amount of the actual missing money.”

  Kiva grumped about this. Then, “So how much of this is going to be blamed on me?”

  “I think that depends on who is assigning blame,” Patz said. “I don’t think Grayland or the Tax Ministry is going to hold it against you, if for no other reason than almost all of this”—Patz waved again—“predates your administration. The House of Nohamapetan itself may try to, however. Especially in light of some recent events.”

  “What recent events?”

  “Well, that’s the other thing we’ve found in the audit. Sabotage. Of inventory, of machines, of ships. All in the last month, since the House of Lagos took charge.”

  “How much?”

  Patz said nothing but gave Kiva a look that she interpreted as saying a whole fuckton.

  “And I reiterate something I just said: And I’m only finding out about this now?”

  “You’re the new boss. Some people don’t want to tell you.”

  “And the others?”

  “Well. They want to wreck you, ma’am.”

  * * *

  Three hours later Kiva was back at the Guild House, in her office. It was the former office of the equally former Amit Nohamapetan, who, courtesy of his sister, had recently found himself on the business end of a shuttlecraft, and then smeared across roughly an acre of cargo bay deck as the shuttlecraft rolled over and then in him like a dog in a manure pile.

  Kiva didn’t think this was a very good way to go. But the more she reflected on it the more she decided there were worse ways. Amit was dead before he knew it, and at least people would be talking about how he died for years. So much more interesting than your basic stroke or heart attack. It was, in fact, the most interesting thing about Amit at all, which Kiva judged was not a great testament to the life he had bothered to live.

  The now-dead-and-somewhat-smeary Amit Nohamapetan’s office was roomy, as befitted the head of his family’s operations in the Hub system, tastefully appointed in the manner that strongly implied it was furnished entirely through the preferences of a hired interior decorator rather than Amit’s own inclinations, if he had any, which he probably hadn’t, and lardered with all the technological assistants and innovations that any modern executive could want or need.

  All except for a “Hey, your fucking sister is planning to shove a shuttle up your ass” alert, Kiva thought to herself. Which to be fair was admittedly a specialized item.

  Kiva had that thought as she was looking out the transparent glass wall of the office, down toward the street below. Aside from the usual street noise of Hubfall—the largest city in the Interdependency, as imperial capitals have historically tended to be—there was an extra layer of volume, coming from what looked like a protest below. Kiva was too far up to see the signs or hear clearly whatever was being chanted, but whatever it was about, the crowd seemed pretty excitable.

  “Lada Kiva.” Kiva turned her head and saw Bunton Salaanadon, her and previously Amit Nohamapetan’s executive assistant. Kiva had kept him because it wasn’t his fault he had been employed by an ineffectual traitor to the Interdependency, and also he knew things that Kiva didn’t, and didn’t want to have to wait weeks or months to learn herself. So far he’d been both appropriately grateful he hadn’t been sacked, and actually useful in terms of Kiva trying to run the House of Nohamapetan’s businesses like something other than a carpetbagging asshole.

  Kiva motioned with her head to the glass. “What are they protesting?”

  Salaanadon walked to his boss and glanced down at the street. “It’s not a protest exactly, I think. The emperox has said that she’s been having visions about the future of the Interdependency. I believe the people below are supporting her.”

  “Huh.”

  Salaanadon glanced over to Kiva. “Did Her Majesty mention anything about these visions when you met with her, Lady Kiva?”

  “No,” Kiva said. “When I met her she was mostly still recovering from your old boss’s sister blowing up a spaceship around her. She didn’t talk all that much. She thanked me for helping uncover Nadashe’s plot, and told me I’d be in charge around here. Then I got shoved off.”

  “Still an honor to meet the emperox.”

  “It was all right. I think she may be fucking my old boy toy now.”

  “Ma’am?” Salaanadon said.

  Kiva waved him off. “Not important. You came to see me about something?”

  “Yes, ma’am. A lawyer is here.”

  “Toss him out a window.”

  “Her, actually, I think.”

  “So toss her out, then. Equally defenestratable.”

  “I would, but this one is from the House of Nohamapetan.”

  “Someone who works for me now.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Salaanadon said. “This lawyer is here from Terhathum. That’s—”

  “I know what and where Terhathum is,” Kiva said. “She’s from the fucking home office.”<
br />
  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Does the math even work on that?”

  “Terhathum is fifteen days away from Hub by the Flow. So yes, barely.”

  “What does she want?”

  “I believe she wants to discuss your administration of the local Nohamapetan properties.”

  “Then she’d better bring it up with the emperox, since she’s the one who put me here.”

  “She suggested there were other issues as well.”

  “More for the emperox.”

  “I’m afraid she can’t be put off. She is carrying a signet document.”

  Kiva frowned at this. “Well, fuck.” A signet document was a legal document that gave the bearer the same standing as the ranking member of a house. From a legal point of view Kiva couldn’t avoid this fucking lawyer, since it would have been the same as avoiding the Countess Nohamapetan, which was not to be done. Technically speaking, and despite the emperox’s dispensation, Kiva in her new role as director was the countess’s employee.

  “She’s currently in the waiting area,” Salaanadon said.

  “Fine,” Kiva said. “Send her in. Might as well get this over with.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Salaanadon bowed his head slightly and exited. Kiva glanced once more down at the placarded crowd in the street, and wondered briefly how many of them were true believers and how many of them Grayland had paid for. Emperoxs had hired crowds for subjects less weighty than mystical visions, after all. And if the Interdependency was about to come to a crashing halt, then she might as well spend her marks before they were all worthless.

  Not bad advice for you, either, Kiva thought to herself.

  Right, but the problem with that was, for a rich person, Kiva was spectacularly unmotivated by money. She liked money, and she liked that she had money, and she was aware that a life lived without money would well and truly suck. But having had enough money all her life for literally anything she ever wanted to do—being the daughter of the head of a noble merchant family had its perks—she never thought about money, and her own material needs were fulfilled with a small percentage of the money she had available to her.

  Instead, Kiva had two primary pursuits: Fucking, which she was enthusiastic about nearly (but not entirely) to the point of indiscrimination; and running things, which she enjoyed and which as it was turning out she wasn’t all that bad at. Kiva was not under the impression that she would ever be running the House of Lagos—as late addition to the Countess Huma Lagos’s already numerous family, she was out of contention for inheriting the role of the primary director of the House of Lagos, and, despite the example set by Kiva’s erstwhile college chum Nadashe Nohamapetan, was not inclined to murder siblings to improve her chances. But the universe was wide enough to give Kiva things of her own to run, like, in this case, the Nohamapetans’ business.

  For now, anyway. Until either the Nohamapetans grabbed it back from her, or all the Flow streams collapsed and they were all fucked anyway.

  Exciting fucking times, Kiva thought to herself.

  The door opened, and Salaanadon came through with a woman roughly Kiva’s age. “Lady Kiva Lagos, Madam Senia Fundapellonan,” Salaanadon said, motioning to Fundapellonan.

  “Lady Kiva,” Fundapellonan said, bowing.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Kiva said, waving her all the way into the room, and motioning her to sit at the chair in front of her capacious desk. Salaanadon frowned to himself at this, but excused himself silently. Kiva sunk into her own chair behind her desk.

  “I’d like to begin by delivering the compliments of the Countess Nohamapetan, who thanks you for taking control of her local concerns at this turbulent time.”

  Kiva rolled her eyes at this. “Look … what’s your name again?”

  “Senia Fundapellonan.”

  “That’s a lot all at once.”

  “I suppose it is, Lady Kiva.”

  “Fundapellonan, can we just … not do the bullshit parts? I mean, you seem like a smart person.”

  “Thank you, Lady Kiva.”

  “So as a smart person, you know as well as I do that of all the things that the Countess Nohamapetan might be feeling toward me right now, gratitude is right down at the absolute fucking bottom. I gave the emperox evidence that her kids were traitors, that one murdered the other, and now I’m running her fucking company. What she’d actually be wanting to do, I’d guess, is push me out a goddamned window.”

  Fundapellonan smiled slightly at this.

  “Also, presuming you actually did come from Terhathum—”

  “I have.”

  “—then it’s likely given transport times to and from there that you were sent almost immediately after the countess got the news about her problem children. In which case the idea that she is thinking anything about me at all is pretty laughable. What I imagine the Countess Nohamapetan is actually thinking, aside from ‘the fuck,’ is, one, how to extract her daughter from an almost certain death sentence, and two, prying me or anyone else who isn’t a Nohamapetan from her precious fucking company. Are these reasonable assumptions?”

  Fundapellonan took a second before responding. “You’re not wrong.”

  “So in the interest of saving both of us some time, I am asking you just to pretty please get to the fucking point, already.”

  “Fair enough,” Fundapellonan said. “Then here it is, Lady Kiva: The House of Nohamapetan, which I represent, is asking you to step aside and allow an executive of our own choosing to take over our local interests.” She held up the signet document and placed it on Kiva’s desk. “That’s the official request. Unofficially, as part of your terms of withdrawal, you will receive a substantial bonus payment.”

  “You mean a bribe.”

  “I mean a bonus payment. The countess’s appreciation for your willingness to step in during a moment of crisis.”

  “I thought I asked to dispense with bullshit.”

  “There’s bullshit and then there’s bullshit, Lady Kiva.”

  “Well, you’re right about that, at least.” Kiva pointed to the signet document. “I presume you and the countess both understand that I was put in charge of your house’s business by the emperox, yes? I can’t just quit.”

  “We understand that. We also know that the emperox would be more inclined to allow your exit if you also were willing to voluntarily depart.”

  “Don’t be so sure.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Well, aside from the fact that Nadashe Nohamapetan tried to assassinate the emperox with a spacecraft, which is not great for the reputation of the entire fucking family, there’s also the matter of the endemic graft my auditors are finding in your books for the last several years.”

  Fundapellonan tilted her head. “And the House of Lagos’s ledgers are entirely free of graft and corruption, Lady Kiva? You know as well as I do that skimming off the top—by employees, by executives, and, yes, even occasionally and regrettably by family members—is not an unusual thing. Regrettable, yes. Unusual, no.”

  “This is your argument for returning control to a Nohamapetan? Everybody does it?”

  “To be fair, everybody does do it.”

  “To be fair, not everyone tries to fucking murder the emperox.”

  “So this is a no from you.”

  “It’s a ‘you have to be fucking kidding me’ from me.”

  Fundapellonan shrugged. “As you will. You should know we intend to ask for your removal anyway.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “We don’t need luck, Lady Kiva. We have your incompetence.”

  “The fuck you say.”

  “You must be aware that there’s been a substantial increase in the amount of sabotage of Nohamapetan property and merchandise.”

  “I’ve heard.”

  “Then you’re equally aware this challenges the house’s ability to fulfill its business relationships. That damages the house’s reputation.”

  “I don’t know,” Kiva said.
“I won’t argue there’s been a spike in sabotage, but it seems to me the most prominent bit of sabotage was when Nadashe turned a brand-new Nohamapetan ship into fucking scrap metal. As long as we’re talking about what damages a house’s reputation, maybe that should be put on the pile as well.”

  Fundapellonan frowned at this. “Perhaps the emperox will see things differently.”

  “I doubt it.” Kiva pointed to the signet document. “One of those will get you in to see Grayland, but I don’t think the emperox is going to forget your house rose up against her.”

  “Not the house. One of its members.”

  “Good luck making that argument.”

  “I won’t be making that argument. The Countess Nohamapetan will be.”

  Kiva blinked at this. “She’s coming here?”

  “Of course,” Fundapellonan said, and smiled. “Lady Kiva, as you astutely note, the reputation of the House of Nohamapetan has taken a few hits recently. This is not something the appearance of a humble lawyer will fix. It’s not something a thousand lawyers will fix. The only way to fix this is to bring the countess from Terhathum to speak to the emperox directly. I’m here to take care of some—sorry—relatively minor preliminaries, like speaking to you. The countess will handle the heavy lifting.”

  “And when is she arriving?”

  Fundapellonan glanced at her wrist, which held a timepiece, which annoyed Kiva as being an overly dramatic act. “If the ship she was planning to be on held its schedule, roughly three days from now.” She looked back up. “Which gives you that much time to change your mind. But not that much time, Lady Kiva. Not that much time at all.”

  Chapter

  5

  “So, how much time, precisely?”

  Marce Claremont managed to keep his face composed—he was learning how to do that much, at least—but on the inside, where it mattered, he was smacking his face with his hand and dragging that hand down across his cheeks. His life for the past month had been answering, time and time and time and time again, the same question, in its infinite but mundane variations, for people who didn’t want to be convinced by the answer and who didn’t have the math to understand why it was going to be true no matter how much they wanted the answer to be different.