“I’m sure the toxins have dissipated by now. Running them through a standard ’fresher unit should be enough,” MacRobert said. “But airing them outside for several hours would be better, ridding them of any chemical residue from the counter-treatment. However, her residence does not have any facility for that, and no staff to supervise it.”
The open door she’d been hoping for. “Then could you possibly bring some over here? There’s a walled back garden where they could be aired, quite private. You could ask what she wants, and bring it here. I’ll take care of the airing.”
“An excellent idea,” he said. “I’ll go up and ask her, then bring the items over to—that is the registered address for Helen and Stella Vatta?”
“Yes,” Ky said.
“I… mmm…” His tone was suddenly different, subdued and apologetic. “As it is the Rector’s private residence… I’m not entirely comfortable rummaging through her… through some of her… I’m wondering if you might come along and advise me.”
“I’m sorry,” Ky said. “But I’ve been strongly advised to stay here. But Stella does have a cook here who would be perfect.”
“Um… a woman?”
“Oh, yes.” And this was even better. Allie could pass on the critical new information to MacRobert, in private. “She’ll be fine in Aunt Grace’s underwear drawer. When can you pick her up? I need to be sure she’s not in the middle of making pastry or something.”
“Half hour, about.”
“See you then,” Ky said. The day looked better already. She had witnesses to what had happened in Miksland, and MacRobert might know how to protect them from being incarcerated and mistreated again. So might Vatta’s legal staff. She explained this to Rafe on the way downstairs. Allie was indeed making pastry, but said she’d be done in a few minutes.
Ky intercepted MacRobert when he arrived, before introducing her guests, and gave him a fast précis of her legal situation.
“None of this is the Rector’s fault,” he said. “She would never do that, any of it.”
“I know. But the fact is I do have the fugitives under my protection here. They’ve told me how they were treated once they were back with our military, and we’ve located the place Sergeant Major Morrison visited, where she saw the supposedly incompetent NCOs. She gave us the other addresses, too. But I’m worried that whoever’s behind this will harm the others if too many people know about them. We need to rescue them soon.”
“I’ve got to find a way to communicate with Morrison safely,” MacRobert said. “There’s that very suspicious Colonel Dihann at the hospital; I know the phones are tapped, but I’m not sure even skullphones are safe.”
“Nor am I,” Ky said. “We need a code. But you shouldn’t stay here too long. Come meet Allie—Corporal Barash, with a new ID Stella fixed for her.”
“You’ve been busy,” he said. Allie, in the kitchen, had taken off her apron and now wore a gray tunic with the Vatta insignia and her name embroidered on the collar over blue slacks.
“Allie, this is Master Sergeant MacRobert; he will take you to the Rector’s house and bring you back here to air the clothes before he takes them to the Rector.”
“Yes, Sera,” Allie said. “There’s a pie in the oven; it will be done in just over a half hour—if it takes us longer, can you—”
“I won’t let it burn, Allie,” Ky said.
When they’d left, Ky called Stella. “MacRobert and our cook have gone to pick up some clothes for Aunt Grace,” she said. “MacRobert says she’s feeling well enough to get dressed now.”
“Oh, good,” Stella said. “Is Legal staying in touch with you?”
“Yes. I’m to stay inside. One of them’s coming over sometime today.”
“I’ll be home at the usual time for supper. I’ll bring along a couple of presents.”
Ky could think of nothing to say to that. “See you tonight, then,” she said.
MacRobert dropped Allie and two cases of Grace’s clothes off before heading back to the hospital. Allie and Rodney—clearly bemused at being asked to help air clothes—set up the folding drying racks and spread clothes on them. Ky watched out the French doors, wishing she could go out in the garden. It was one thing to spend weeks on a ship going somewhere, with only remote camera views of the exterior, and quite another to be inside when outside was a planet. Her planet. The last time she’d experienced autumn days and nights here, she’d been a cadet, and at this time of day she’d have been in afternoon PT, in the scratchy shorts and jersey, finishing up with ten laps around the playing field.
She sighed and turned away. Plenty of work to do here, now, including deciding how much to tell Ventoven when he came.
“Admiral?” Inyatta came out of the dining room.
“Yes—” Ky said, heading toward her. She’d not broken any of the fugitives of calling her Admiral. She’d quit trying; it seemed to reassure them.
“I think we—all three of us—should write down our statements about what happened in Miksland. In case—in case something bad happens. So it’s recorded somewhere. Maybe at Vatta?”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Ky said. She should have thought of that herself. Or Rafe should have, or Stella. “Or we could record it, downstairs—video and sound—and you could also write something. Or—” The thought hit her suddenly. “A lawyer’s coming from Vatta’s legal department later today. If he saw the recording being made, he could be a witness.”
“Yes, Admiral. It would be better to have both a recording and our written statements, I think.”
“Probably. Yes. All right, Allie’s working on supper, but you and Kamat can write statements—you shouldn’t be working on them together, I know that much. Is she downstairs?”
“Yes, Admiral.”
“Then you come upstairs with me; you can use Stella’s office, and then I’ll go down and tell Kamat. Don’t answer the phone, though.”
“I won’t, Admiral.”
Downstairs, Ky found Rodney—back inside from laundry-airing—and Kamat working on aerial scans of the area around the compound where Morrison had told them all the remaining survivors would eventually be held.
“It’s remote and rugged,” Rodney said when she came in. “Going to be difficult to get a team into.”
“It’s forested, isn’t it?”
“Yes. That makes it hard to detect all the surveillance they’ve got. I’m sure it’s more than what I’m seeing.”
“Get Rafe on it, too, Rodney. And start looking at places transport could be stopped on the way in.” His expression changed. “Yes, a different approach. If the compound is remote, but has no airfield, that means ground transportation. Roads to remote places usually have remote stretches.” He nodded. Ky turned to Kamat. “Meanwhile, Kamat—I want you to write out your version of what happened in Miksland. At least get started on it. Eventually you’ll be called to testify, and we need current proof that you’re of sound mind. They may have messed up your records—lost them or falsified them—from when you were drugged.”
“Yes, Admiral. Should I start now?”
“Yes. Here’s paper and pen.”
Barash, in her role as Allie the cook, was busily chopping things—a delivery of fresh produce—on the kitchen table. Ky explained the need for a written report, then realized that the records she herself had turned in to the authorities might also have been compromised. She settled in to write her version of events.
The afternoon passed quietly. Shortly before Ky expected Stella home, a woman from Vatta’s legal department called to say she was coming: “Sera Lane, another attorney at Vatta, and familiar with your case, Sera. Ser Ventoven cannot leave court at present; the justice has extended the hours. But he said it was vital to see you today.”