Trading in Danger

“I haven’t decided,” Quincy said. “I’ll stay with you through repairs, anyway. But—I could retire now, and it’s been a… a difficult trip.”

“Yes,” Ky said. “It has. And you’ve certainly earned retirement. I’d like it if you stayed, though.”

“We’ll see,” Quincy said. “It all depends…”

On what? Ky wanted to ask, but she knew better. “Thanks. I’ll go talk to Furman’s representative now.”

Furman’s representative was his second in command, a cheerful stocky man in Vatta blue with a small lock-case clipped to his wrist and a large briefcase in his hand.

“Captain Vatta, I’m Bantal Korash,” he said. “I have a special package for you from your father. I’m afraid you’ll have to validate and sign this—” He pulled a plasfilm receipt from his pocket.

“And I’ll have to inspect the seals,” Ky said. That was the first, simplest level of validation for both of them.

“Here, then.” He handed it over; she turned it over and around in a specific pattern, observing that each seal was unbroken. Then she thumbprinted the receipt, signed it, and he put it back in his pocket. “And I also have some forwarded mail; your father says it’s nonurgent but wanted you to have it.” He opened his briefcase and handed her a small pile, including one with all too familiar handwriting. Her heart thudded painfully. Hal. What had he said? Had he understood? “Captain Furman would like to get everything straightened out so we can get back to our route. I understand you have cargo for Belinta?”

“Yes. There’s no reason to delay you—Captain Furman can take the Kat back to his route right away.”

He shook his head. “That’s not what Captain Furman says. He says he’s supposed to make sure you’re all right, and in his mind that means making sure you get back to Slotter Key safely.”

“I’m fine,” Ky said. “You can see that.”

“But the ship… and didn’t someone die?”

“The ship needs repair; we’re working on that. Gary Tobai, my cargomaster, was killed during the mutiny. His funeral’s day after tomorrow, station time.”

“Tobai! I worked with him four years ago, on another ship. What happened?”

“Furman didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

“The passengers the mercenaries stashed aboard the ship included some troublemakers—some of them tried to take the ship over. They did manage to degrade the system controls, turn on the insystem drive, and destroy our communications transmitters. They took Gary hostage, threatened to kill him if I didn’t turn over command of the ship.”

“If they’d done that much, why did they need you?” Korash asked.

“I don’t know. I do know that I tried to stop them—and killed the two ringleaders—but Gary died. I couldn’t stop them in time—”

“But if they had Gary hostage, how could you—”

“I had other crew to think of, and the passengers who weren’t involved. That had to come first. He knew it—he told me not to give in.”

Korash stared at her, eyes wide. “You saw him?”

“Yes.” Ky closed her eyes briefly, where one of the rotating scenes of disaster from this trip passed before her eyes. Skeldon’s face, as she just caught sight of him in her cabin before everything went black. Gary Tobai looking her in the eye, and then… not.

“How could you—watch—” Now he sounded disgusted, as if she were something contemptible. Anger stirred; Ky pushed it down.

“You’re welcome to come to his memorial service,” Ky said. “Day after tomorrow, the station chapel. A Modulan service.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Korash said. “I’ll be back on our ship by then. But how do you feel about it?”

“Horrible,” Ky said. “I keep thinking I should have done more to prevent it—more to keep them from getting systems access, from grabbing Gary. But there were a lot of them and few of us. If I’d known who was behind it, I’d have spaced them to start with and saved us all a lot of trouble.”

“Spaced—you wouldn’t really space anyone—!”

Ky looked at him, a nice decent older man who had never faced what she faced. She tried to soften her voice. “Actually I would, if necessary to save my ship. Mostly it’s not necessary.”

“That’s hard,” he said. His face was two shades paler; she could see the sheen of sweat on him. “That’s really hard.” He swallowed. “I suppose that’s the sort of thing you learned in the Academy.”

“Yes,” Ky said. It saved time trying to explain what couldn’t be explained.

“Things are different in the civilian world, you know,” he said.

“I know that,” Ky said. “But my first responsibility is still to my ship and crew, even under civilian legal codes.”

He had an odd expression, somewhere between curiosity and revulsion. “How did you… er… I mean… do you carry a… a weapon?”

“You want to know how I killed them, is that what you’re asking?”

He flushed, then; “I… I guess so.”

“I shot them with a pistol bow that one of my crew had—a target bow.”

“You did that before?”

“I practiced, once I realized that we might have trouble with our passengers. My crew member taught me how to use it. I suppose that shocks you…”

“I couldn’t shoot anyone,” he said firmly. “I just couldn’t.”

Her patience snapped. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing you’ve never needed to.” Before he could say anything else, she said, “You can tell Captain Furman—or I can contact him myself—I am going to get this ship repaired well enough to take my cargo to Belinta—myself—and he can consider himself free to return to his regular route. I will check and see if any of my crew wish to return with him, and I will prepare a message for my family. I’m assuming you came in by shuttle?”

“Er… yes.”

“Well, then. When does it leave or was it a charter?”

“A charter…”

“You can spend a couple of hours here?”

“Yes… but I have to let them know when I want to leave.”

“I’ll speak to the crew shortly; I’m sure they’ll want to stay for Gary’s memorial service, at least. So Furman can leave after that, if any of them want to go with him, or earlier if they don’t. I can have that answer for you in… say… three hours. I’m sure you’d enjoy that time more on the station than on a small ship like this…”

“Er… as you wish…”

“You have an implant, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. Give me your number; I’ll contact you.”

At last he left, and gave her a vague sort of salute on his way out. Ky took a deep breath and then tabbed the intercom.

“All crew, come to the rec area, please. I have an a

A few minutes later, they were all there except for Beeah, still out on the station.

“Captain Furman, of the Katrine Lamont, wants me to agree to sell this ship for scrap here, take all of you and the cargo aboard his ship, and go back to Slotter Key via Belinta. I’m not going to do that; I’m going to repair the ship with the money Mackensee paid me, take my own cargo to Belinta, and pick up our cargo there, and go on our original route to Leonora and Lastway. However—” She paused. “While I don’t have direct orders from Vatta headquarters to do what Captain Furman says, I suspect that his report of my decision will generate some heat. Most of you are long-term Vatta employees. I will understand if you don’t want to be involved in a dispute between me and my family’s business. I will also understand if you don’t trust me as a captain, after the death of a crew member you all knew for a long time. So I’m giving you the opportunity to transfer to the Kat if you want to. I’ll give you all an exemplary report for your records.”

“If we leave, what will you do for a crew?” Lee said. “We can’t just leave you out here alone…”

“There are always transients,” Ky said.

“Have you looked?” Quincy asked.

“Well… no. Not yet. But it’s up to you, really. I don’t want you staying out of some guilt thing.” She yawned; she couldn’t help it. “Sorry. I’m going to go get something to drink, give you all a little while to discuss it.”