Into the Fire by Elizabeth Moon

Author:Elizabeth Moon
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2018-02-06T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

DAY 8

Stella Vatta had never enjoyed playing courier. Now that she was officially Vatta’s CEO and once more officially a Slotter Key citizen, she found it annoying that both Ky and Aunt Grace expected her to keep shuttling their correspondence back and forth just because neither could leave their respective residences. Adding the sergeant major of Slotter Key’s military to the list of stops made her furious. Grace Vatta, as Rector of Defense, had plenty of personnel at her command; surely she didn’t need to pick on Stella, who had, after all, an interstellar enterprise to run.

She had worked herself into a sizable fury by the time she reached her office, where a man she had not met since they were both teenagers waited in the reception area.

“Benny—Benny Quindlan?”

“Yes, Stella—Sera Vatta, I should say, as this is a business visit, not a social one.” He looked very grown-up, in his business suit with his expensive briefcase and perfectly polished shoes. “I’m sure you didn’t expect a visit from me—”

“No. No, I didn’t.” Why was he here? Was this about the blast that had brought down Vatta’s headquarters six—seven?—years ago? About the trade rivalry that had preceded that? Or…what?

“I would prefer to speak privately,” he said, with a frosty glance at her receptionist.

“Sera Stella, your schedule—” her receptionist said.

“Clear me fifteen minutes,” Stella said. “Benny, come on. Fifteen minutes is literally all I can spare until this evening.”

“Thank you,” he said, without any hint of meekness, and followed her into her office. She was glad in that moment that she had sent the delicate little desk her mother had used back to storage, and found a plain, moderate-sized one instead. She had also changed out the spindly-legged chairs for solid ones that could take a man’s weight without wobbling.

“Have a seat,” she said, going behind her desk. “What is it?”

He sat but did not lean back, hands crossed on top of the briefcase balanced on his thighs. “I am in a difficult position,” he began.

“We all are,” Stella said. The vid-plate on her desk writhed as her receptionist wangled minutes out of a schedule already crowded. He flushed; he’d always had a pink face that reddened easily.

“Sorry,” he said. “I know our families have been competitors and sometimes enemies for a long time. When I learned—when I heard—about the explosives—”

“You were appalled, of course. Get on with it.”

“It’s this.” Without further verbal delay he opened the briefcase and removed a file, which he laid on Stella’s desk. “I now know why our families were enemies. It’s in there. That’s a photographic copy of the file, and if my uncle finds out I’ve given it to you, he will kill me—literally—me and my wife and our twins. If he knew I had entered this building without his explicit order he would terminate my employment and all contact with the family. Luckily, he did order me to enter this building and give you a message from him, which I will in a moment.

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