“It was scary,” Ky said, through another pastry, this one meat-filled. She felt better with every bite.
“I can’t understand why anyone would attack ansible platforms,” Carla said. “It only makes ISC angry, and Parin always says they’re the glue that holds the galaxy together.”
Ky, her mouth full, nodded but said nothing.
“And you were captured by mercenaries, the news report said.”
“Yes,” Ky said, wiping her mouth. “But they were polite mercenaries.” When they weren’t almost killing her, but that had been an accident.
“Did you really kill the ringleaders?” Carla asked.
“Yes,” Ky said. “And I suspect that’s why someone’s trying to kill me, in retaliation.” She decided that one more pastry wouldn’t hurt and picked one up.
“I can tell you’re feeling better,” Carla said. “More color in your cheeks. The clothes you had on have been freshened, if you feel able to get up now.”
“Yes,” Ky said. “I do… but I’d still like to know what happened. Did I just… faint?”
“A contact poison,” Carla said, with the satisfied tone of someone who knows something unusual. “That policeman with you fell over like a cut tree while the consul was in the room; you were pale and turning gray, Parin said.”
“A contact poison! On top of the shooting?”
“Yes. They didn’t leave much to chance, is the way the consul put it. It penetrated ordinary gloves as if they weren’t there.” Ky remembered, now, the policeman pulling open drawers, lifting the sheets of the bed, touching this surface and that. “Then they found the bedspread bundled into a trash container, and the poison was all over that. Three of them are down with it. You only sat on the bed—the poison didn’t penetrate your clothes that well. The antidote worked quickly; you were only unconscious a couple of hours. The doctor’s off working on the others.”
“So… did they catch the assassins?”
“No. They’re searching, of course, but except for the one you shot, the gang’s all disappeared.”
“Is my ship all right? My crew? Has anything else happened up there?”
“They’re fine,” Carla said. “No attacks up there at all, and shuttle travel’s been suspended, so no assassination teams can get there from here. There’s a com console in my sitting room, just outside here. Then there’s a policeman who would like to speak to you; he has assured the consul that they have no more interest in arresting you. When their people went down from the contact poison, they decided that your having shot one of the assassins wasn’t so bad after all.”
“I need to check with the ship. Can you hold the policeman off that long?”
“Of course,” Carla said. “This is Slotter Key territory, after all.” She winked. “Take your time getting dressed—through that door there.”
Quincy, predictably, was appalled at what had happened, and worried, and wanted Ky to come back immediately.
“I’m safe here,” Ky said. “I’m not going out, I promise. They’ve suspended shuttle flights, you know.”
“Yes, but for you—can’t you get a charter?”
“Probably not, not until tomorrow anyway. Are you satisfied with the police guard on our dockside?”
“They’ve doubled it,” Quincy said. “I think we’re secure. But you—”
“I’m fine,” Ky said again. “I got hold of Vatta headquarters before this happened…” Should she tell Quincy everything, or would it just make it worse? “There does appear to be a general threat; I’ll give you the details when I’m back on the ship. And if I’m stuck down here for days, I might as well see what I can do about cargo.”
“Cargo! There’s your life to consider! Don’t you dare go out!”
“I won’t go out. I can do business from here; the consul’s helping me arrange things. I won’t say don’t worry, but don’t lose sleep.”
Quincy sniffed and signed off.
The policeman who interviewed Ky had the same dour expression as the others she’d met. “We are convinced that you were the innocent victim of an attack, and that your killing the assassin was self-defense,” he said. “Under our laws, this is legal, and anyway the dead man was someone we wanted to arrest on other charges. Saved us the cost of a trial. Even so, we cannot recommend that you resume unrestricted travel in the city, or your residence at the Captains’ Guild.”
“I can’t stay cooped up here forever,” Ky said. “My ship is already under threat—”
“We think you could be escorted safely to the orbital station,” the policeman said. “But an extended stay… we understand you were seeking outbound cargo…”
“Not after the attempt to sabotage my ship and kill me. I want to leave as soon as possible. If for some reason I had been detained here, then I’d ask the consul to help me make some contacts to seek cargo. But if I can leave now—”
“Are you well enough to travel?”
“Yes,” Ky said. “The doctor advises twenty-four hours of observation, but surely overnight is enough.”
“Perhaps a chartered shuttle flight—we would of course validate the crew—”
“Sounds good to me,” Ky said. The only goods she’d seen explained why Belinta had a deplorable trade balance.
When the policeman excused himself, she considered going out to find the consul, but decided to rest just a few minutes; her head felt strange again. She lay down on top of the covers. When she woke, some unknown time later, someone had covered her with a knitted shawl and set another tray on the bedside table; steam rose in curls from the teapot.
Ky wasn’t very hungry; she was struggling with her reaction to the day’s events. Her annoyance with the postal clerk seemed far away now, almost as if it had been someone else. Someone had tried to blow up her ship. Someone had tried to kill her. Something had happened during her call to Vatta headquarters. She had to think those were related, and the only thing she could think of was whatever criminal group Paison and Kristoffson had been part of, taking vengeance for killing them.
She started when she heard the sound of the door handle turning, but relaxed when she saw the consul. He came in, shutting the door behind him. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Much better,” Ky said.
“That’s good,” he said, and sighed. His expression did not lighten; her stomach clenched.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“We’ve lost contact with Slotter Key,” Consul Inosyeh said. He sat heavily in the other chair.
She remembered suddenly that she had intended to call her father directly, only to be interrupted by the assassins. “Completely?” she asked. Her mouth went dry.
“Yes. It appears that something’s wrong with the ansibles there. I don’t know if it’s anything like what happened at Sabine…” His voice trailed away.
Ky watched his face; he stared at his hands. “What else?” she asked finally when he didn’t look up.
“There’s… another problem. Before we lost contact. I had reported the attack on you—purely routine, something I’d do if a Slotter Key citizen had been involved in a barroom brawl—and I was told something that shocked me.” He paused; Ky waited it out. “Vatta’s always been in good odor with the government. I am sure you know that. There’s the contributions, of course, but beyond that, it’s an enterprise that has a long and honorable history in interstellar trading. Due all assistance, favored status, whatever you want to call it. And I liked you personally, when I met you on your first visit. I was looking forward to having lunch with you.”
“And?” Ky prompted, when he stopped again. He looked up, his expression grim.
“And for reasons I do not understand, that has been reversed. At the highest level. Vatta is, in the words of my superior, not to be accorded any status whatever. Get her out of there, he said. Have nothing to do with Vatta.”