Engaging the Enemy by Elizabeth Moon Page A

wanted to tell her; this, she admitted to herself, was definitely a surprise. “The government’s turned on us—”
    â€œThis is from before,” MacRobert said. “It was issued before the attacks on Vatta—which, by the way, I certainly didn’t anticipate.”
    â€œDid her father know? Her uncle?” Vatta officially, she was thinking. “It’s been against our policy to accept letters of marque.”
    â€œI know that,” MacRobert said. He ate the rest of the sandwich without speaking; Grace waited him out. “The thing is,” he said finally, “I knew something was wrong about what happened to Ky in the Academy. The cadet who caused the trouble wasn’t really the type. Someone had to put him up to it. I had this feeling—something was more wrong than anyone knew—and I knew she was out in space somewhere with no idea what had happened or why, and she was on an unarmed little tradeship. She might need help. So I…arranged it.”
    â€œYou didn’t tell anyone at Vatta,” Grace said.
    â€œNo. Nor a few other places.”
    â€œBut the government had to know…someone signs those things. They’ll rescind it…”
    â€œI don’t think so.” He took a long swallow from his bottle. “She’s not exactly on their records…well, not on
all
the records. She has a valid letter of marque, yes. Duly signed by all the right people.” He paused again. Grace wanted to strangle the rest out of him, but suspected that wouldn’t work. She took a sip from her own bottle. “There are different kinds of letters of marque,” MacRobert went on. “Some are more specific than others, limiting that captain’s actions. Some are more general. Some are…special. Hers is special.”
    â€œHow did you get it to her?”
    â€œCourier to Lastway. Knew she was going there. I sent a letter, too, and if she followed my instructions she has some useful weaponry, as well.”
    Unexpectedly, Grace felt a surge of raw anger. “You just made her more of a target,” she said. “There’s no way she can fight effectively with that old crate she’s in, and now you’ve given our enemies even more reason to go after her.”
    He did not react to her anger; he might have been the granite boulder they sat on. “She’ll make a better privateer than regular officer, actually,” he said. “I think she’s better off.”
    â€œAs if you had the right to make that decision,” Grace said. “She’s not your family.”
    â€œNo. But I watched her for the years she was at the Academy. Intelligent, quick, capable, and if I’m not mistaken the true killer instinct.”
    Grace felt her stomach clench. “I hope not,” she said.
    He turned to her. “Why?” Then, seeing something in her face, his expression changed. “Oh. You’ve—of course, I know something of your history.”
    â€œShe’s alone,” Grace said, hating the hoarseness of emotion in her voice. “It’s going to be a shock to her if…when she finds
that
in herself. Stella doesn’t have it: she can kill, but she hates it so much that she’s never tempted. If Ky—”
    â€œShe had four years of military discipline,” MacRobert said. “That will help her more than you know.”
    â€œI suppose.” Grace folded the sandwich wrapping into a tight cube and put it back in her creel. “So—what did you expect of her as a privateer?”
    MacRobert frowned at the river. “I thought, since she had more military training than most captains, that she could pick up information for us in places where known privateers hear nothing. I was sure something was coming, something big, and hoped she could find out what it was.”
    â€œYou could have just asked her to spy for you without tempting her to try