“They must have found a place to hide, Commandant,” Major Sherman said. “There’s no trace of them—”
“Surely someone’s reported something—three bald women in military hospital garb can’t be that hard to spot.”
“We think they got clothes from somewhere.”
“They’d be trying to find Admiral Vatta,” he said, not for the first time. “You should be looking at every place they might think to find her.” Luckily, she was far away, on Corleigh, and expected to stay there another two tendays at least. By the time she returned, the survivors wouldn’t be a problem anymore—at least, all but these three. And three—even if they couldn’t find and dispose of them before they went public—could be explained away. The injections that would finish their treatment and pass a postmortem examination by any military forensics had finally passed their clinical trial.
“Commandant, a team did go to the Vatta city residence. They spoke to Sera Stella Vatta, who assured them that no one had been to the house or entered the property. A Vatta watchman was resident there for the days the family was gone, patrolling the house and grounds regularly. But she did say that Admiral Ky Vatta was back in the city, at the house.”
“What? I should have been told that at once! How long has she been there?”
“It’s in the memo I sent.” Sherman sounded whiny, as usual; Kvannis clenched his teeth. “She returned just today. That break-in is why she came back. If only you’d let us contact the city police, put out a bulletin. Civilians don’t even know about the fugitives, let alone a description.”
“I was sure your people would have them back in custody by now, Major. We did not want to start a panic among the populace. But now, I suppose, since your team failed, we’ll have to take that risk. I will see that the police are notified. Perhaps your team can keep some kind of watch on the Vatta residence, just in case they show up there.”
He sat thinking awhile after that conversation. The break-in… had that been one of the over-eager civilian allies? It didn’t really matter now; what mattered was Ky Vatta in Port Major. He had already reminded Immigration that Ky Vatta, like Stella Vatta, had violated the law requiring absent citizens to renew their citizenship regularly. He’d been told that Admiral Vatta was a hero, for whom allowances would be made, of course, but now that she wasn’t an admiral—now that he’d made sure his friends on the legal side of Slotter Key’s military had opened an investigation of Master Sergeant Marek’s death at her hand—a few more “facts” might persuade Immigration to do more than sit around with their thumbs in, warbling about the glory she’d brought to Slotter Key in the Battle of Nexus.
He spent a quarter hour drafting a report to the Port Major police about the fugitives, careful to couch it in terms that would both flatter the police and deflect attention from the delay in informing them. Then he settled down to the more pleasant task of blackening Ky Vatta’s reputation and questioning her right to be at large on Slotter Key. When he finally went to bed in the Commandant’s ornate bed, he was more satisfied with what he had accomplished than worried the fugitives would ever make contact with Ky Vatta.
The next morning, Ky woke from a nightmare with Rafe holding her. She relaxed slowly, concentrating on one muscle after another. “Did I make a lot of noise?”
“No. It doesn’t take noise for me to know when you’re in a bad place. Teeth grinding and jerky movements are enough. I’ve done that, you remember.”
“Yes.” She took a long breath, another. “We are two weird people, aren’t we?”
“I prefer to think of us as two experienced adventurers, and all experienced adventurers have memories that give them bad dreams at times.”
Ky laughed unexpectedly. “What time is it?”
“A little past dawn. Still cloudy. I think it’s safe to unlock the house long enough to retrieve supplies from the kitchen.”
“Is Stella up?”
“If she is, she’s very quiet. Probably doesn’t want to rouse the wildcat.”
“I’m not—”
“Ky, love, you have no idea what you’re like when you go full killer. In retrospect, that’s what Stella’s going to remember.”
“I wouldn’t—”
“But you could. And she doesn’t know the level of control you have. Did you ever physically attack her?”
“She pulled my hair when I was four and she was seven. I punched her back, but not hard enough to leave a mark. We both got in trouble; I heard about it for years. I threw a bracelet at her once when we were teenagers. No—actually I threw it on the floor.”
“Well, that’s a gracious difference.” Rafe’s mouth twitched; Ky knew he was trying not to grin.
Ky said nothing, heading for the shower.
Stella seemed perfectly calm at breakfast; she led their guests into a discussion of clothes they might need. They were deep in that discussion when the doorbell rang. Stella switched on the remote, waving everyone to silence. The screen showed uniformed men in riot gear standing in front of the house, with a van parked in the street.
“This is Stella Vatta,” Stella said. “What is the problem?”
“Why is the house secured like that?” The speaker, in a helmet with its visor down, all in black, had the body language of an angry man.
“Please identify yourself,” Stella said.
“Open this door!”
“Please identify yourself,” Stella said again. “Name and organization; verification will be obtained to determine the legality of your demand.”
“You—! All right, though your attitude will do you no good.” The visor flipped up; the man looked into the ID scan by the front door. “Captain Hansed Bontier, Spaceforce Security, 429–772–5187–04. I can have my boss call you—”
“Verification ongoing,” Stella said and closed the com. To Ky, she said, “Same man I talked to through the door last night. He wasn’t that rude then. Wonder what twisted his tail. Take them into the office; there’s a triple-shielded closet. Use the old code. That should be safe enough if nobody talks. The word anywhere twice is the key.”
Ky got up; the visitors were already standing.
“And use the toilet now, not later. I’ll be running my shower; it’ll cover the noise. Quickly.”
Ky took them all into Stella’s home office and shut the door, setting the latch to maximum. “Toilet’s that way,” she said, pointing. Barash went first, and while the others waited, Ky tapped the code for the security closet and opened the door. They came back into the office, silent and looking scared. “We can talk softly, one at a time for now,” she said. “I’m going to use the screen with the volume down.”
In front of the house, several black-clad men gathered, one gesturing and the others listening. Visors were up; Ky grabbed and stored images of every face she could. “Recognize anyone?” she asked Inyatta.
“No, sir,” Inyatta said. “Wait—that one.” She pointed at the man who had identified himself as Captain Bontier.
“If they’re trying to keep this secret, they’ll control the number of people who see you,” Ky said. “They should use the same security personnel at every stage—but if you’ve been drugged, then you won’t know their faces.”
Ky tapped the control for a view of the front door from inside, then backed it through the house—and there was Stella coming down the passage. Barefoot, a thick house robe belted around her, obviously wet hair wrapped in a towel turban, she went down the stairs briskly and strode to the front door. There she spoke into the door com. “I have contacted the Rector of Defense; she says you must tell me what it is you want.”
Ky switched back to the outside view, then arranged both on the screen.