“Kush, Keshmara, and Jeavan, and a bunch of bootstrap systems, all out by themselves,” Van replied. “I hope this is worth it.”
“In credit terms for this transit alone, probably not. The special bonus is three hundred million Argenti creds, and the annual retainer is only one hundred fifty million.”
Van still had trouble with the figures. Only four hundred million, and not enough? Then, the Elsin was worth a billion creds, according to Desoll.
“Minister Sahid figures that if the Revs take on a Coalition ship, first, he doesn’t risk anything, and second, the Coalition might get more than a little upset. He can also claim that the Revs are breaking their nonaggression agreement, and this time, he has proof.”
“Will they be there and come after us?”
“Who knows?” The cold smile told Van that Desoll knew very well what was going to happen.
Van kept his frown to himself. “What are we going to do for the next several days?”
“As I told the minister, I do have some loose ends to tie up with the local IIS office here. I can start now, but it will take most of tomorrow. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to be on board, just in case they deliver early or in case something comes up. If I get finished with everything tomorrow, then the day after I’ll sit the ship, and you can have that time to explore Keshmar. I’ll also open a credit line here on Cambrian Holdings for you, keyed to your payroll. If you want to transfer your personal account to another Eco-Tech banking institution when we get to Cambria, of course, you can, but that’s where your pay has been going for now.”
“When did I start getting paid?”
“The day the RSF retired you. I thought that was only fair. You’ve got two months pay. One month for a bonus.”
Van had to admit that Desoll had been very open about everything, if sometimes belatedly, from Farhkans to compensation—and the risks. He’d mentioned piracy from the start. Van just hadn’t expected that the Revs would be the pirates—or that IIS would be acting as a part-time interstellar mercenary or private fleet.
But from the compensation…he should have.
Chapter 45
On fourday, Van arrived at the embassy of the Republic of Tara on the west side of the River Khorl at slightly before eleven hundred. He had no trouble entering the business section of the embassy, and immediately headed toward one of the Marine guards, hoping to head off a confrontation like the one that had occurred on Meroe.
“Yes, ser.” The ranker was polite, but not deferential.
“I’m Van Albert. Commodore Van Albert.” Van fished out the retired officer’s datacard and presented it. “I used to work with the second secretary, Cordelia Gregory. We were stationed on Scandya together. I’d appreciate it if you’d tell her I’m here.”
The guard took the card, verified it, and handed it back. Then he stepped away and touched the wall console. He waited some time before speaking. “Dr. Gregory. There’s a Commodore Albert here to see you. I checked his ID…tall officer…Yes…yes, ser. Right away.” He inclined his head to Van. “I’m to escort you up, ser.”
“I appreciate that, Corporal.” He followed the Marine through the screened gate to the side of the business lobby. As Van passed through the screens, he almost paused. His new implant picked up the codes and protocols, and he had the feeling that he could have actually twisted them enough to gain entry himself. What had the Farhkan doctor done? Or was that another Coalition ability that added to the mystique? But with such abilities, why were they avoiding any direct conflicts with the Revs? Desoll had said they were, but Van hadn’t been that satisfied with the answer. Because of a war over two hundred years before?
At the top of the ramp, the corporal turned left.
Cordelia Gregory was actually standing outside her door, waiting. “Thank you, Corporal.”
“My pleasure, Doctor.” The Marine slipped away.
“Commander…I mean, Commodore…to what do I owe…?”
Van could tell that, behind the formality, Cordelia Gregory was flustered, bewildered, and even slightly pleased. “I was here on Keshmara, and I had some free time. Since you’d been transferred here before I recovered, I thought I only ought to stop by.”
“I’m so glad you did. Please come into the office. It’s a little disarrayed.”
Van followed her in, closing the door and sitting down in front of the desk console.
After a moment, she seated herself. “I wrote you…”
“I know, and I very much appreciated the words and the thoughts.”
“How long…you were severely injured.”
“Six months in the medcrib, and two months rehab.” Van gestured to the documents scattered on the flat surface beside the console. “You look…quite involved…What…?” He let his words trail off.”
“Mostly economic analysis—until last week. Then we had to deal with the Sulyn problems. You’re from there, as I recall.”
“I heard that the RSF had sent in a domestic peacekeeping team. From what I’d heard, and from what I know, it seemed…excessive. Sulyn has always been an independent place, but one where the protests were always civil.”
“That’s been a real problem in explaining it to the Keshmaran government,” Gregory admitted. “We did send back a communiqué suggesting that reaction here was less than favorable.” She shook her head. “And then yesterday…well…it’s already all over the mediacasts.”
Van waited, puzzled.
“The Keshmaran government announced this morning that they had discovered the identity of a Dartigan Dumas.”
“That name is familiar…” Van tried to recall why he knew the name.
“According to the Scandyans, he was the one who put together that front—”
“Oh…that Scandyan Biologics place?”
“Valborg Biologics,” Gregory corrected him.
