Marque and Reprisal by Elizabeth Moon Page A

we just waltz in, they call it invasion. They have called it invasion.”
    “But I thought—” Ky stopped again. Nothing she’d been taught actually contradicted what Consul Inosyeh was saying, though this was a strange interpretation. “But then what keeps pirates from raiding our tradeships?”
    “That, Captain Vatta, is the reason Slotter Key has a shady reputation. Slotter Key runs privateers, private armed vessels authorized by the Slotter Key government to pursue and take action against the enemies of Slotter Key. Which, broadly defined, means anyone who messes with our trade in ways we don’t like. We’re not the only ones to do what we do, but we do it fairly aggressively.”
    Shock like an ice-water bath stopped Ky’s breath for a moment. “Privateers! They’re—they’re nothing but pirates with a piece of paper!”
    “That’s exactly what some other systems call them, yes. It’s what we call foreign privateers, too, if they interfere with our ships. But, Captain Vatta, every government finds itself in need of force—clandestine, unofficial, deniable force—in some situations. Vigilantes, privateers, bounty hunters, mercenaries, someone who would do the dirty work but whose dirty work could be disavowed if things went sour.”
    “But—but it’s wrong.” Even as she said that, she knew how naïve, how immature, that sounded. Consul Inosyeh did not laugh at her, or even smile.
    “It’s certainly not ideal,” he said. “At best, the use of such methods should be reserved for a few rare difficult situations. But for economic reasons, Slotter Key and several other planetary systems have come up with this way to fund police in space. I’m sure you can imagine the diplomatic problems that arise. Innocent ships seized, disputes over the proof of guilt, that sort of thing. The Merchant Council agreed, in the Commercial Code, to recognize privateers as separate from pirates, and privateers—including ours—are bound to adhere to the code for the treatment of prisoners, for instance, just as mercenaries do. Privateers have provided the only space police for many decades now, and on the whole the merchants are happier with them than with the real pirates.”
    “There should be a real space police,” Ky said. “Surely the various systems could get together—”
    “So far they’ve refused,” Consul Inosyeh said. “The closest thing is ISC’s enforcement branch, but they don’t do anything about piracy that doesn’t affect them directly, and they aren’t enthusiastic when systems do try to combine forces. But here’s the thing: merchant firms, including some you know, have participated in the privateer program, committing a small percentage of their fleet. What’s lost in cargo capacity to the armament they carry is made up for in prize money. Spaceforce usually assigns an officer—always on the larger ships, or if they’re working in a group—to keep an eye on things. We in the diplomatic service are provided a list of privateers operating in our area, in case we need to contact them or vice versa.”
    Despite her initial disgust at the thought of privateers, Ky imagined herself on such a ship—almost as good as a real warship—protecting Slotter Key’s merchant fleet from pirates. Maybe it wasn’t
that
bad.
    “So you see, I can think of reasons why Slotter Key might be attacked, even without an attack on ISC. We’ve annoyed a lot of people, not just our intended targets.”
    “Are… uh… Vatta ships among the privateers?”
    “Not on any list I’ve ever had,” Consul Inosyeh said. “I believe it was the policy, when privateering was first authorized, that at least one carrier should not be invited to participate, so that its sterling reputation could cover the others.” Sarcasm soured his voice. “I don’t know the whole history, but Vatta appears to have been chosen as the unspotted lamb of an otherwise motley flock.” He looked at her closely. “You didn’t know