“A hundred and fifty years old. Could be older.”
“It must be a large multilateral to have interstellar ships. It does, doesn’t it?”
“Three. But it’s a foundation.”
“A foundation with interstellar ships? I never heard of one that had ships.”
“I think there are a few. Not many.”
“What’s the problem?”
“They’re Coalition-based.”
“Do they have offices in the Republic?”
“Supposedly.”
“Would you get home more often than you did in the RSF?”
“Probably not.”
“What about pay? You don’t need the money, do you, not with a commodore’s pension?”
“The compensation is considerable,” Van admitted.
“You don’t think they’re reputable?”
“Anything that’s lasted more than a century has to be fairly reputable. There’s not a hint of anything wrong with them. Some odd things…”
“Odd…wrong?”
“Not exactly. The managing director made an odd comment, though, one about being careful whom you rescue because you’ll be responsible for whatever happens.”
Sappho laughed. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
“True enough, but why would he tell me that?”
“To see your reaction, of course. People are always asking weird things in interviews.”
“I suppose so. I liked him…no…I don’t know that I liked him, but I felt he was solid.”
“Then…?” Sappho left the word hanging. “You say you want to keep being a pilot…”
“I don’t know.”
“You do, too. You sound like you did when you were accepted for RSF training.”
“I do?” he asked, almost involuntarily.
“You get that way when you feel you ought to do something, but you can’t explain why. Especially if it takes you away from the family.” She laughed gently. “I think we all do. Dad Cicero always wanted us to be able to explain why we wanted to do things. But sometimes, there are things you just have to feel. That’s always been Arturo’s problem. He won’t let himself really feel. He’s always looking for approval, particularly for public approval.”
“That never mattered to you. Dad Cicero worried that you wanted to flout convention too much, just for the sake of it.”
“I wasn’t that bad. I saw things. I still see things, and when you see things, and you’re young, you want to make a statement. Sometimes, Cicero told me, you shouldn’t.” Sappho laughed. “Sometimes, he was right. Sometimes, he wasn’t. He wasn’t that thrilled with Aelsya, you know?”
“You’ve been together for more than fifteen years.”
“Sixteen next month. I’ve never regretted it. But I couldn’t have explained it then, and I’d still have a hard time.”
Van nodded.
“In the end, big brother, you’re going to have to do what you feel. And you won’t have the comfort of cold logic.”
Van was afraid she was right.
Chapter 37
Van sat in the ancient leather-covered chair in Dad Cicero’s home study, looking out the side window at the bonsai garden. He had continued to think over what Sappho had said the night before. Why was he so concerned? After a moment, Van forced his thoughts back to IIS. The foundation was no newcomer. In fact, it was older than some of the outfits he’d already approached for a job. Was it just the Coalition tie? Or a feeling? Why did he feel that way?
Incoming from Ashley Marson, the home net announced.
Accept. Van let the full projection fill Dad Cicero’s home study.
Ashley’s face filled the projection, the boyish grin still as engaging as it had been when they’d both been at Shennon Academy. “Van, you asked me to see what we had on the IIS outfit. It’s not much. It’s a private foundation, headquartered in the Coalition. It’s an old operation, more than a century, but our records don’t go back any farther. They do info studies. Last one here in the Republic…well…they did it for Salyrien, about thirty years back. Whatever it was, it must have worked. Salyrien was number three formulator on Sulyn, and about to go under. Within five years they were number two, and you know where they are today. Not much went public, except that at one annual meeting—that’s what our files show—the director general was attacked for the fee, and he pointed out that, based on the IIS recommendations and findings, Salyrien’s profits, revenues, and market share were way up….”
Van nodded for Ashley to continue.
“They have a small office in Domigua, and they publish a confidential data report for client subscribers only, but we don’t know of anything else…Never been a complaint or legal action against them…”
An office in Domigua, but Desoll had given him codes for a standing wave reply? Was that so the response wouldn’t have to be forwarded? Or because Desoll wanted to bypass the local office? If so, why?
“There’s an old note in the files, but I can’t verify it. It just said something to the effect that IIS delivers…but they’re not a multi to mess with.”
“I thought they were a foundation.”
“They are. I’m just telling you what I found.” Ashley smiled. “They look a lot better than STA for you, but don’t tell anyone I said so.”
“What about the Fergus?”
“There were a couple of stories, one on a relay from New Oisin. Not much more than you told me. Hold on. I’m sending it.”
“Thanks. It’s just…well, I was the commander, and I didn’t find out until months later.”
“I understand. Sometimes it helps to see it holoed out.” Ashley’s smile was understanding. Then he stiffened. “I’ve got to run. Someone’s claiming that Councilwoman Styrns has channeled district business to her niece’s firm, and it’s coming up at the council meeting.”
“Thanks, Ashley.”
“Let me know.”
“I will.”
Van sat forward at the console setup, then called up the story on the Fergus. As Ashley had said, there was nothing he didn’t know. The story didn’t even mention any of the officers or techs, or what the ship had been doing, just a vague reference to its disappearance, and the statement that the RSF had concluded that the ship had been lost to unknown causes.
He read it twice. Finally, he called up the results of his previous inquiry and printed out two hard copies. He looked at the first copy, scanning through the results once again, his eyes catching the key sentences and phrases.
