Trading in Danger (32 page)

Ky finally went to bed when she couldn’t stop yawning, only to wake a few hours later when her stomach lurched sideways and then up. She called the bridge.

“Just an adjustment to the artificial gravity,” Garlan said. “We had a little trouble synching our AG to the warship’s when they tried a microjump with us attached. But that bled off a lot of speed.”

“What about our hull strength?”

“That’s fine, Captain. There’s no strain on the linkage, it was just the delta vee surge of the double endim transition. Since you’re awake, they wanted to know if they could do it again, to save time on the way back.”

“Let me check with the passengers,” Ky said. She struggled up, splashed water on her face, and called down to the holds. The medic answered. “How are they doing?” she asked.

“That gravity surge didn’t help,” he said. “Their guts aren’t that stable yet. What happened?”

“Microjump by your ship. They want to do it again.”

“Tell ’em to wait twelve hours,” he said.

Ky called back to the bridge, and relayed that. Then she sagged against the headboard of her bunk. She was awake, tired, frustrated, and worried.

Twelve hours and fourteen minutes later, the ship seemed to lurch again. This time Ky had been able to warn everyone it was coming, and the medic reported that the passengers had come through without incident. Some of them were now eating bland solids. She had been given permission to try a proper breakfast, which tasted delicious.

They came out of that microjump in close orbit around Sabine Prime. Ky looked at the scan when the screens cleared and felt her stomach clench on the breakfast it had earlier accepted. Prime’s orbital station held several civilian ships, including Vatta Transport, Ltd.’s
Katrine Lamont
.

“What—” She swallowed an epithet. “What is that doing there?”

“I don’t know,” Lee said. “Last I heard, the
Kat
was over on the Beulah Road route.”

“I knew they’d have heard,” Ky said. “But I didn’t think they’d be crazy enough to send a ship in.”

“Next scheduled carrier?”

“Not likely. When we were here before I looked that up, and it was four months off the
Elaine of Gault
. It only feels like four months.”

The com tech waved at her. “Captain, you’ve incoming traffic—”

“Right.” She sat down in her seat and prepared to grill the colonel to find out what he knew. But the face that came up was not Colonel Kalin. The dour, lined face looking back at her belonged to the captain of
Katrine Lamont
. She knew it all too well. When she’d been an apprentice, shipped out to experience the wonders of space and get her mind off what her mother called “that military nonsense,” Josiah Furman had been the captain of that ship, taking obvious pleasure in putting a Vatta youngling to the nastiest and more boring chores. She’d come back more determined than ever not to be stuck in ordinary civilian transport.

She couldn’t think of anyone—barring her mother—she wanted to see less.

“You’ve made a fine mess of things,” he said. “You weren’t supposed to be anywhere near Sabine… but then you never did follow orders.”

That was unfair, she had followed many orders, many stupid orders, many boring orders. She had followed most orders, including his. She tried not to see the expression on the Mackensee com tech’s face, just as the com tech was very obviously trying not to look at her.

“What did you think you were doing?” he went on, not waiting for an answer, as if he were her actual parent. “First, you make an idiot of yourself at the Academy, and then you can’t even carry out a simple, uncomplicated voyage without getting the entire company in an uproar. Do you have any idea the profits you’re costing us by this?”

It was a pause, if not the pause she wanted. “Trade and profit,” Ky said, fighting to keep her voice even. “Vatta captains are expected to take advantage of opportunities—”

“Experienced captains,” he said. “Captains who know what they’re doing. You—I got pulled off my route, with loss of early-delivery bonuses, just because you couldn’t do what you were told and deliver that useless excuse for a ship to the wrecking yard. Because of you,” he said, and glared at her.

She was tired, hungry, grieving, and this was totally unfair. All those emotions tangled in her throat, and she could say nothing. Had her father told Furman to scold her this way? He hadn’t scolded her about the Academy… Was he angry now?

“My father—,” she finally said.

“Your father told me to come pick up the pieces and be sure you were safe. Pulled me right off my route, told me to skip two destinations. So I have to divert, load up your cargo, load your crew, haul your cargo to Belinta, that armpit of the region, before I can get back to my route, and take you home. My customers will be upset—”

“You can’t do that,” Ky said.

“I don’t want to, but your father said—”

“I mean, you can’t take our cargo to Belinta. We have cargo there, in storage, for Leonora and Lastway.”

“Then it will have to stay there. I am not going to Leonora and Lastway, and neither are you. I’ve seen the reports—
Glennys Jones
will never make it out of the system. I’ll sell it for scrap here—”

“You will do no such thing,” Ky said. Her jumbled emotions had settled with anger on top, and at that moment she felt she could leap across space and remove his head without a weapon. “With repairs—simple repairs—this ship is quite capable of taking cargo to Belinta and beyond, and that is what I will do. I am in command of this ship, not you.” That last came out weaker than she meant.

“You’re under tow,” Furman said. “You can’t even dock with the station—which, by the way, I understand you left illegally, without permission. Your ID beacon is transmitting the wrong data. They won’t let you dock.” He smirked. On his big, heavy face it looked particularly disgusting.

Ky hadn’t thought of that complication. The moment in which she had elected emergency undock over the possibility of being blown up with the station seemed years in the past. Had it only been a few hands of days?

“It was an emergency situation,” Ky said. “Other ships also broke loose—”

“But not Vatta ships,” he said. “You’ve damaged our reputation, you’ve cost us millions, and now you make excuses—enough of this. Your father sent me out here to take care of things, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’ll sell the ship for scrap, transport your cargo to Belinta and your crew back to a nexus where you can catch a passenger ship home. Get your things and be ready to leave in—”

Ky stabbed at the board and cut the connection before what she thought emerged from her mouth. Her vision hazed.

“That was interesting,” Lee said softly. “He seems to think you’re still a schoolgirl…”

“Apparently,” Ky said. She tried to control her breathing, her face, her voice. It would have been so satisfying to throw something breakable at something immovable.

“Who
is
that?” asked the Mackensee com tech.

Ky took a deep breath. “He was captain on the ship where I served my junior apprenticeship,” she said. “We did not get along. To be fair, at thirteen I was the typical adolescent brat, and the youngest of my family. I’d been sent off because my parents thought I was spoiled, and they were right. But he… did not help.”

“And they sent him to help you now?” The tech’s face expressed unexpected sympathy.

“Probably he was closest,” Ky said. She hoped that was it. She hoped it wasn’t an unsubtle message from her father that she had screwed up yet again, and worse. “Look,” she said to the tech. “I really need to talk to home—to headquarters—about this. Is there any chance of getting an ansible linkup?”

“Not for another couple of days, they tell me,” the tech said. “What do you think, this guy’s going beyond his orders?”

“I hope so,” Ky said. “And I hope he’s wrong about the station refusing dockage. We have to get in there for resupply and repair.”

“I reckon ISC will have something to say about that,” the tech said.

“ISC—why?”

“When someone messes up their ansibles, they usually hang around and pretty much run things until they find out who did it and punish them. And didn’t you find that out?”

“I found out some,” Ky said cautiously. “Not everything.”

“So ISC ought to be grateful to you,” the tech said. “If they want you to get docking access, you will, whatever poison puss says.”

“I hope so,” Ky said. She sighed. “I wish—” But she couldn’t say that aloud, not in front of her crew or these military types. She wished she was military, where everything was cut-and-dried, open and obvious, simple. Well, except for people like Mandy Rocher. Her mind insisted on dragging up every person she’d found to have hidden motives. “I need to check on something,” she said instead. “If he calls back, don’t accept it.”

“What should I tell him?”

“Tell him I’m not discussing company business over an open line,” Ky said, wishing she’d thought to say that earlier. She left the bridge and went to talk to the passengers. They were feeling well enough to complain about the delay in returning them to their ships.

“I can’t do anything about that,” Ky said. “You know I have no shuttles, and we have no independent power. At least we have adequate food now.”

“That’s all very well, but what about my ship?” one of the captains said. “Is it still in the system? Are my crew all right?”

“I’ll find out,” Ky said, and dashed back to the bridge. With the exception of
Empress Rose
, all the ships were still in the Sabine system, and crews reported nothing but minor injuries or illnesses. She reported that to her passengers and explained that no, she could not provide them all a secure comlink to their ships, since ISC now controlled all communications and hadn’t put a high priority on their needs.

She went through the protocols to request a link to Sabine Station, and to her surprise was put through to the acting stationmaster. This individual wore the gray ISC uniform with the silver lightning flash and introduced himself.

“Ah, Captain Vatta. I understand that you undocked against orders.”

“Yes,” Ky said. “Emergency situation.”

“Quite. Sabine system imposes a fine of five thousand credits for improper undock, and you have an outstanding ship balance due of 2345 credits for docking services.” He looked down at something on his desk, then back up. “A counterclaim for failure to recognize a legitimate emergency and facilitate ship’s withdrawal from danger will be entertained by the interim authority.”

“The interim authority?” Ky was still wondering where she could scrape up another 7345 credits.

He grinned at her. “That’s us, Captain Vatta. Should you make such a counterclaim, including, for instance, Sabine Station’s failure to complete your refueling and to allow you timely access to repair and replacement parts, it is likely that your debt would be reduced to zero and docking permission could be given in accordance with Sabine law.” His grin widened. “We prefer to make use of local law whenever possible.”

Ky blinked. “I suppose… I should make a counterclaim, then.”

“I would recommend it, yes. Your ship suffered damage, did it not, as a result of this station’s negligence and lack of cooperation?”

“Er… yes.”

“ISC has never favored frivolous suits, so unreasonable requests for damages might prejudice your case, but since your ship was preemptively interned for use as a hostage carrier, in large part because you had no functioning deepspace drive and an incomplete fuel load on insystem, I suggest a computation of what it would take to restore your functionality.”

Ky just managed not to gape. Surely they were aware that the ship was old and had more wrong with it than one missing drive component.

“I can’t of course name a figure—that would be unfair of me, in my capacity as interim stationmaster. I must be impartial—”

If this was impartial, she didn’t want to see partial—at least not unless it was on her side.

“But any material damages could be named. Should they not be upheld by a later court, at least you would have some recompense, I’m certain.”

Getting docking privileges alone would be worth it, Ky thought. She collected her scattered thoughts. “With permission, Stationmaster, I’ll be back with you shortly. I want to prepare an accurate statement.”

“Very good, Captain Vatta,” he said. The flicker of his eyelid was not quite a wink. “With respect, I suggest you not wait overlong. Soon our tugs and shuttles will be busy here. Oh, and the fee for towing you into a docking slot will be eight hundred fifty, as usual.”

“Back in one,” Ky said. She looked around at her bridge crew. “Did the rest of you hear what I heard? Was he really telling us to make out an expense account and blame Sabine Station for the past couple of weeks?”

“Sounds like it to me,” Quincy said. “And he’s right. The station should have facilitated our repairs, or at least sold us the sealed unit. There was no rational reason to think we’d take it to the Secundus rebels or the mercs. And they should have given ships permission for emergency undock, all of ’em. Much more dangerous for the station if ships were there if the station was attacked.”

“I’m tempted to just ask for what our back charges are,” Ky said. “That way we can’t be excessive.”

“No!” Quincy said. “Ky—Captain—that’s not the way to think. Let me work on it. We had a lot of damage. There’s two of our crew dead—one of them was an idiot, true, but the other wasn’t. We had all that work to do in the cargo holds, modifying them for emergency quarters—that used up a lot of our reserve parts stock. And some of that will have to be torn out to make room for cargo. Then there’s our cargo, floating around out there—”

“Unless Furman grabbed it already,” Ky said bitterly.

“Wherever it is, it’s not in our holds,” Quincy said. “And we’ve got to retrieve it, unload the other stuff, and reload the holds. That’s several days—docking fees for those days shouldn’t be due from us, because it’s not our fault. Nor should replacement parts, nor the labor cost to reconfigure the holds. The sealed unit was already damaged when we came in; I wouldn’t gig ’em for that. But the beacon damage, and the control systems—that’s going to take a complete purge to get it fixed.”