“Oh… yes, Commandant. Uh—may we use a clip from today’s recording?”
“Very brief, and I hope you spent some time capturing the audience reaction. Come by my office here in the residence so I can see it when you’ve got it together.”
“Yes, Commandant.”
She finished the sandwich and thought longingly of a few hours’ sleep. She peered into the bathroom, the walk-in closets—one empty, one with her few clothes hung neatly at one end of the pole. Back to the sitting room. Its window overlooked a small paved area apparently off the kitchen and one end of the Science Complex. She sat down in one of the club chairs. Quiet. Solitude. Where was Rafe? All the others had reported in long ago. She dragged her mind back to the faculty reception, reviewing the names she knew, and checked the time. Her supposed rest period was dwindling; she should freshen up for the reception.
“Commandant?” A tap on the door. “Major Osinery, from Public Affairs—”
“Come in.”
Her first thought was, Oh, not another one, because Major Osinery could have been Jen Bentik’s not-quite-twin sister: older, pretty, perfect in every way. But not, she realized at once, the same attitude, despite what she’d sounded like on the phone.
“Commandant Vatta, I am so pleased to meet you—I never thought I’d get the chance.” Osinery flushed. “Sorry—I mean, since we didn’t know you’d be the next Commandant until an hour before you arrived. I had heard of you, of course, but didn’t think—Sorry, I’m babbling. Here’s the press release; we can view the video on your desk—”
“Let’s go down to the briefing room; it’s almost time for me to head for the faculty/staff reception, anyway.”
Downstairs, she reviewed and approved the brief press release; the video clip Osinery had chosen should play well, she thought. Osinery left. By then MacRobert had shown up, to brief her on the reception; they walked together into the residence’s dining room, where the kitchen staff had laid out refreshments.
Ky complimented the chef and staff, and then the faculty began to straggle in and introduce themselves. She let her implant record it all. In case some of the faculty were part of the conspiracy—though she doubted it—any detail of expression or posture might reveal it. Later, she circulated through the room. The instructors she’d had seemed glad to see her again; others were simply curious. They all left promptly at the end of the hour, excusing themselves politely, all according to military courtesy, and she looked at the ravaged platters of food ruefully. She hadn’t had time to eat even one pastry.
Chef Volud reappeared. “If you would like, those could be sent to your suite for snacking. And your dinner will be ready in forty minutes, if that suits. Will you eat down here, or in your suite?”
“Let me just check before you go up,” MacRobert said, before she could answer.
“I’m taking one of those pastries now,” Ky said. The sandwich had not been enough. “And I’m sitting down.” She snagged a pastry off one of the platters and sat in the nearest chair.
“I’ll bring your dinner here, then,” Chef Volud said. “You are tired and hungry; that is something I understand.”
One of the staff poured her a cup of tea and asked if she would prefer coffee instead.
“Tea is fine, thank you,” Ky said. “I just haven’t slept much the past two—three—nights.” Her feet were throbbing. She wanted her other boots, not these new ones.
“It must be difficult,” said one of the staff, a young woman whose name tag read LORIN.
“It’s been a surprising day,” Ky said. “A good night’s sleep should take care of it.” Only she wasn’t going to have a good night’s sleep because Rafe was somewhere far out in the country and she didn’t know if he was safe or in jail or something. Rodney’s report was many hours old. And she had to sleep in an unfamiliar bed with what looked like the perfect way to get a headache built into the headboard.
Sooner than expected, her dinner appeared; it smelled delicious. MacRobert came in with his own plate, two sandwiches made with leftover cold cuts from the reception. “May I?”
“Certainly.”
He sat across the big table from her; they ate in silence until she was through. The little dessert plate of cheese and grapes and one chocolate truffle had finished it perfectly. “So,” Ky said, “any other useful tips?”
“You haven’t had time to meet your security detail; you should do that before you go to bed, if you can.”
“Of course.”
“They won’t be permanent, most likely—”
“Neither will I,” Ky said. “I’m interim.”
“Not as interim as some of these are. You don’t have Kvannis’s detail, but most are still from the Academy list. I haven’t combed them deeply yet.”
“Let’s go, then,” Ky said. “And—I need to arrange transport for Rafe when he calls in.”
“Yes. It sounds like something Stella could arrange. Have you called her?”
“No. No time, really.”
“It will come better from you, after last night. It was a very near thing.” When she just looked at him, Mac went on. “You hadn’t heard? The house was attacked after you left—all communications cut off first. That’s what alerted Vatta Security, though it took them awhile to respond. The attackers broke in from above. Stella was alone; she fought them off until help arrived.”
“Is she all right?” Ky knew Stella would be furious, would connect this to every time Stella had felt unprotected.
“Yes, but the house isn’t. A lot of damage upstairs, the security office wrecked…”
“Security detail first, then I’ll call her.”
When she had met the security detail, she went upstairs and hoped for an early night. No one interrupted her during her shower, or while she dressed again in her own clothes and put her Commandant’s uniform and her personal armor in the ’fresher, but she knew they could. She called Stella’s skullphone.
“Ky? You could at least have told me—”
So Stella was comfortable enough now to complain. “I’m sorry. We thought you’d be safer if no one knew; we were wrong.”
“Yes, you were. I’m at Grace’s house; home is unlivable for now.” She sounded amazingly cheerful about that. Ky tried to think what to say, but Stella went right on. “I’m fine, but for a few scratches and bruises. You know that annoying Mr. Prescott across the street?”
“Yes…”
“Well, he was working for Quindlan, and that’s how he afforded the house. Spying on us. You were right about that. He’s under arrest now.” Stella actually chuckled; the hair stood up on Ky’s neck. Was this the same Stella? “He came storming over to complain about the noise and claimed I was having a wild party; once he saw the bodies he nearly passed out and started gibbering.”
“The bodies—?”
“I killed them, Ky. Or most of them. But I had to, and I did, and it was different. I was afraid—not just of them, but of being a killer like my father, like Osman. I’m not afraid now. I’m not like him. Not ‘that idiot Stella,’ either. I can kill when I have to, and stop when I don’t have to. It’s a good feeling.”
“I’m… happy for you,” Ky said.
“Have you heard more about Rafe?”
“Not since Rodney’s report yesterday. He drove one of their trucks, to dump it, then didn’t show up at the pickup site. He called Rodney, said he was on the run but fine. A local station in the west reported that a man had killed three men, stuffed their bodies in a truck, and fled over the fence at a train station. His ID was found in clothing on the fence.”