“Well, here’s the short and dirty. To keep a ship like this, and a crew this size, reasonably safe in the kind of situation we’re talking about, you need three things. Hardware—the sensors deployed in appropriate locations. Software set up to interpret input correctly. And procedures that everyone follows. I don’t mean any insult by it, but this is not a military crew. Your people aren’t used to discipline, other than doing their jobs, isn’t that right?”
“Right,” Ky said.
“I’ve been paying attention, listening to them talk about how they spend their time when a ship’s in dock. They walk in and out, go visit a station bar or café, go run errands, do some shopping—”
“Yes, that’s normal,” Ky agreed. “And?”
“Well, ma’am, seems to me normal just went out the door and didn’t look back. Somebody’s trying to kill you and destroy your ship. That means we—you—can’t be having any of that casual strolling around. I can make up some of the deficiencies with hardware and software—if I get enough of it—but you also need to set up procedures for how people behave on the next place we dock.”
“Procedures restricting their movements, you mean.”
“Movement, communications, everything. It’s not going to be easy; they’ll think they’re being careful when they’re leaving holes in your security I could walk a whole platoon through.”
“If that’s the hardest job, I think we should start with that part,” Ky said.
“What weapons do you have aboard?”
“Mehar’s two pistol bows and some knives,” Ky said. “And whatever that is you carry.”
“This?” He opened his tunic and pulled out a matte-black handgun, laying it on the table without, Ky noted, ever allowing the muzzle to point toward her. “Eleven millimeter, Standard Arms; manufactured on Slotter Key under license from Bascome. Same as our utility issue, but this one’s custom.” He cocked his head at her. “You don’t have a weapon? I expected you would.”
“I was rushed off Slotter Key in a hurry,” Ky said. “At the time, a weapon was the last thing in my mind. After Sabine, though—”
“I heard you killed two of them,” Martin said. “Mind telling me how you did it without a gun?”
“Crossbow,” Ky said. “Mehar’s pistol bow, in fact. The mutineers had knives, no firearms; the mercs had made sure of that.”
“Ah. Not a bad ship weapon, a bow. Not enough penetrance to damage a hull or even a bulkhead. But I would recommend, ma’am, that you arm yourself as soon as you can.”
“Lastway’s bound to have weapons shops,” Ky said.
“I could pick up something for you,” he offered. “Safer for you.”
“No, thanks. If I’m going to shoot it, I want to choose it,” Ky said. His brows went up, and she went on. “I did learn to shoot, you know. As a girl back home, as well as Academy training. Now, if you’ll draft some procedures for me, we can go over them and start training the crew.”
“Right away, ma’am. And given the lack of arms, I think I’ll add some basics in unarmed fighting techniques. Some of them might get it.” He nodded and left the compartment.
Down transition at Lastway went smoothly enough; Sheryl had dropped them in farther from the planet than usual, with as little relative vee as possible. Scan cleared in a few minutes, and Ky checked the Lastway ansibles, querying for “current sectorwide commercial news.” She didn’t expect much, but a large download came into the bin a half hour later.
COMMUNICATIONS BLOCKAGE STILL THREATENS COMMERCE was one headline. According to that article, ansibles had gone down in a number of systems within a few hours, disrupting not only communications but also trade. Several planets—Leonora was listed—had closed their systems to outside traffic. ISC had begun repairs at both the hub and periphery of its systems simultaneously, and Lastway now had unimpeded communications with two other systems. ISC wasn’t saying what it had found, just that “work is in progress to restore clear, reliable communication as quickly as possible.” Slotter Key was one of the systems listed as “still not open,” as were Belinta and Leonora.
Ky flicked through the list, and the next headline stopped her breath in her chest. VATTA EMPIRE FALLS. She scrolled down.
The quadrant’s second largest interstellar shipper, based on Slotter Key, has suffered a series of devastating attacks on its ships and personnel. Disaster has followed even onto their home planet, with explosions in warehouses and tik processing plants, as well as the deaths of many family members in explosions at the family compound on Corleigh. Bankruptcy seems imminent, as customers flee the ill-fated line…
Ky stared at that a long moment. Corleigh bombed? The house she’d grown up in… that garden, that pool, the cool tiled terraces, the comfortable rooms… gone? Her family… her busy, bustling mother? Her brothers, her cousins, her father?
It couldn’t be. They couldn’t be dead. It had to be a mistake. It made no sense anyway. Why would anyone attack Vatta like that? They had no enemies—commercial rivals, but not enemies. Her breath came short. She tried to find out more, but the writer preferred to speculate on the effect of Vatta’s disintegration on the price of shipping and the fortunes of rival firms.
Two others stories mentioned attacks on Vatta Transport, one from Highdare, a system near the sector hub, and one from ISC sources. More ships had been attacked onstation, and two Vatta ships were overdue at their next port. Insurance carriers had dropped Vatta as too risky; shippers were avoiding Vatta because of the lack of insurance. ISC issued a statement disclaiming responsibility for the attacks on Vatta:
We are quite sure that the involvement of a Vatta ship in the situation of Sabine System is not related to these attacks… ISC’s relationship with Vatta Enterprises, Vatta Transport, and individuals of the Vatta family has been strictly business and no closer than our relationship with other customers.
Ky stared at that. So someone else had thought this might result from her actions in the Sabine System? And then had discarded that idea? Were they right, or were her fears right? Was it her fault? For a moment, the invented mental images of destruction she hadn’t seen swamped her mind… the house burning, the office exploding, the warehouses and processing plants aflame… family members whose faces she would never see again…
No. That wasn’t going to help her get her cargo sold, her crew and ship safely in and out of Lastway space. They might be alive, some of them at least. She had to think that way; imagining the worst would paralyze her.
She scanned the rest of the download, concentrating on the here and now. She shunted prices to Martin and Alene in Cargo and Quincy in Engineering.
Two hours later, Lastway Traffic Control inquired if they were in transit or on approach.
“Approach,” Ky said.
“Be advised, Vatta ships are under special advisory concern,” Traffic Control said.
“Explain,” Ky said.
“How long have you been in transit?” came the answer.
Ky gave the date in universal.
“Ah. So you aren’t aware of the situation?”
“What situation?” Ky asked. What would they say? What would they do?
“Vatta Transport, Ltd., has been subject of some form of attack, and we have been informed that upon docking, all prior insurance coverage for Vatta hulls is canceled. Vatta personnel are considered to be at risk, and Vatta family members at special risk. Lastway Militia Services disclaims responsibility for their safety, and recommends extreme caution and additional private security—”
“Any Vatta hulls presently docked?” Ky asked.
“No. Yours is the first into our space since all this blew up.” Traffic Control heaved an audible sigh. “Whatever did you people do, and who did you annoy?”