“We’re interested in educated, decisive, and highly qualified pilots who aren’t bound by traditional cultural constraints. We’re also interested in officers who have gained an understanding of how multilateral, military, and governmental organizations operate, and who have gained that experience the hard way.”
Van had to admit his experience hadn’t been gained in the easiest way.
“Now…there is one other aspect of the job.”
Van waited for the catch.
“We’re one of the few foundations or multis who deal with the Farhkans. They prefer not to bring their ships into certain systems. On occasion, we will transport a Farhkan or go into their systems and pick up or deliver various items. Would dealing with them bother you?”
Desoll watched Van closely.
Van didn’t even have to think about that, although he’d only seen a single Farhkan in his life, and only from a distance. “No. I can’t see why it would.” In another way, that also made sense. IIS was handling something else profitable that others wouldn’t think about. Van did wonder how IIS had established the relationship, but it wasn’t the time to ask.
“That’s good.” Desoll waited. “Do you think you’d be interested in IIS?”
“I’ll still have to think about it,” Van demurred.
“Take all the time you want.” Desoll smiled, and somehow the expression was both sad and understanding. “The offer’s open. We’ll leave the ship preserved for a year, if we have to, before we pick someone who’s not right.”
“I’m going back to Tara on sixday, and then home to Sulyn.” Van shrugged. “I hadn’t planned on this.”
“I understand. I really do. When I was retired, it came as a shock also. We share some similarities there, because I’d just finished a…an assignment where I’d been badly injured, and it took more than a year before I was well enough to return home. And then I was retired.”
Van was certain that Desoll had almost said “a mission.” Had the man been an intelligence operative? Yet what he said about his own medical experiences and retirement rang true—almost too true. “I take it that was a while ago?”
“Quite a while ago.” Desoll smiled. “Eventually, I got tired of gardening, and then my wife died. That was when I decided to work with IIS. While I’ve made mistakes, I’ve never regretted working here.”
“What’s the structure? I mean, who do you work for?”
“The board, I suppose. I’m the managing director.”
“You’re the head of IIS?”
An embarrassed smile crossed the older man’s face. “We’re a very lean organization. With our overhead, we have to be. You’d be a senior director, say the equivalent of a senior vice president or vice director general or something like that. Oh…the pay is complete health protection, and I mean complete, anywhere in the Arm, and an annual stipend of a quarter million Coalition credits—that works out to about four hundred thousand Argenti creds. I don’t have the current Taran equivalent, but it’s around three hundred fifty thousand. And all expenses.”
Van did swallow. There might have been a hundred individuals on all of Sulyn who made that kind of income.
“We pay a great deal, but we ask a great deal, Commodore. Particularly absolute integrity.”
“It’s impressive,” Van conceded, then asked, “Just what does this job entail? For that amount of credits, you must want a lot more than a pilot. Even with impeccable integrity.”
“It all centers on being a pilot. As you know, much as the Arm governments would like to pretend otherwise, piracy and raiding still exist, if on a limited scale. Our ships all have far larger drives and shields than would otherwise be the case. We also carry, as I mentioned, extraordinarily valuable goods upon occasion. You would also be expected to learn more about the foundation and take over some of the duties I now have. As we’ve expanded, I find myself stretched far too thin.”
“But you don’t need a pilot for that, do you?”
“Given our structure and operations, it makes much more sense. That’s another reason why we’re interested in a tested and more senior officer. One who understands how important trust is for an organization.”
Van cocked his head. “That would seem obvious, but you don’t think many people recognize that?”
“Outside of the military, no. That’s been my experience, at least. But like all disillusioned idealists, I tend to be cynical.”
Van couldn’t help but chuckle at the ironic self-mockery. “What else does a disillusioned idealist believe?”
“Don’t rescue anyone unless you want to be responsible for them for life.”
“That’s an old belief.”
“It’s also true.” Desoll smiled. “After all this, are you still willing to consider IIS?”
“I’ll consider it, but I still have to think about it, unless you need an answer now.”
“No. We have some leeway.” Desoll smiled, again almost sadly. “It may be that I can arrange to stop by Sulyn in several months. If you come to a decision before that…” He extended a plastic oblong. “That will cover a standing wave message to reach me wherever I am. Just indicate yes or no, and, if yes, where we can reach you.”
Van took the oblong. He doubted he’d accept the job offer from an unknown Eco-Tech foundation, but it would have been foolish to decline before he had explored the alternatives. “Thank you, Director Desoll.” He rose.
“Trystin, please. I hope we’ll hear from you.” Again…there was sadness behind the warm smile.
Van had the feeling that Trystin was even older than he looked to be, perhaps a good decade older. “It might be a while. I don’t know what will happen in New Oisin.”
“I understand. But do take care of yourself. Whatever you decide, you have much to offer. Just make sure you do what fits who you are.”
Van was still puzzling over Desoll’s last words as he walked toward the waiting groundcar. Doing what fitted him? While it was certainly good advice, it seemed strange that Desoll would offer it to a man he hardly knew.
Chapter 28
By sixday morning, as he rode in the groundcar to the Valborg shuttle terminal,
