Ky tried not to glare. “You’re going to put me in jail because I was attacked?”

“Not exactly. Because you killed someone and you were attacked. And not exactly jail, but someplace safer than the Captains’ Guild.”

“Let’s go see what they did to my room,” Ky suggested. “My luggage—”

“Fine. But I’ll go with you. Do not try to touch anything. It would be against your best interest.” Nodding to the others, he let her lead the way upstairs.

“They used the stairs,” Ky said. “And I think also the lift.” She was carefully not touching the stair rail.

“They will have worn gloves,” the man said. He sounded glum.

In her room, the bedcover was missing, and her empty duffel lay open in a corner. The closet was open; her clothes were gone; all the drawers were empty. In the bathroom, all the toiletries were gone as well.

The policeman grunted. “Typical,” he said after a moment’s look around. “They want everything to check for DNA and anything else that might be useful. I hope you didn’t leave them something juicy.”

Ky’s stomach churned again. Being physically attacked was one thing, but having her things taken—all of them—was in some ways more upsetting. “The—valuables—are in the safe downstairs. If they didn’t break into that.”

“No,” he said. He had pulled on gloves; he opened the drawers all the way, looking into them for anything left behind, opening the cabinets in the bathroom. “So you’re a prudent traveler… I suppose one expects that from spaceship captains.”

“I wasn’t prudent enough to put a set of underwear in the safe,” Ky said ruefully. “I hope you have a good ’fresher in the jail.”

“I’m sure someone can obtain the necessary items for you,” he said.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Ky said. “Surely someone would notice men in masks carrying a bundle that looks like a bedspread…”

“I doubt they carried it far,” the man said. “Or they had something else to put things in and just used the spread to make it easy to collect them.”

“I almost came up here to make the call,” Ky said. Her knees felt shaky again. “I thought, walking back, My feet hurt and I’ll just go upstairs and kick my shoes off. But the combooth in the lobby was closer. If I had come up here I’d have had no warning…”

“Sit down, Captain Vatta,” the man said. “You’re looking pale.” Ky sat on the bed, which was nearer than the chair. She told herself to get a grip, but tremors shook her. “A natural reaction… though it took you rather longer to get to it than most.”

“I… thought I was all right,” Ky said. Her hand still hurt where she’d hit the man’s armor.

“I think I will call your legation, if you permit, on your behalf,” he said. He sounded almost friendly now. Ky tried to focus, tried to grasp why, but she couldn’t.

“Thank you,” she said. The tremors eased, but she still felt cold and sick.

The consul appeared only minutes later. “Captain Vatta, the captain has explained what he understands happened. How can we be of service?”

She could not imagine asking the consul to go buy her some underwear, and at the moment the lack of underwear loomed larger in her mind than anything else.

“I’ll be all right,” she said, aware that the statement made incomplete sense at best. “The ship needs to know.”

“I think she’s in shock,” she heard the policeman say. “I thought at first… but then she went pale and started shaking.”

“Reaction,” said the consul. “You’re a bit pale yourself, you know.” Ky could not think of the consul’s name. His face seemed to leap nearer. “Captain—do you know my name?”

“I’m sorry,” Ky said. “But no.” She should remember it, she knew that much. She had called him from Belinta Station when she arrived; they’d discussed the Sabine situation. She had arranged to meet him at the legation this very morning. But everything had gone fuzzy at the edges and all she had the energy to do was sit there.

Then the policeman canted slowly to one side and collapsed. People shouted, ran to and fro, and Ky watched it all with a detachment that she knew was unnatural, until someone picked her up and put her on a litter and she slid into sleep.

Chapter Three

The room smelled of familiar tropical flowers, lush and spicy. A floral print on the bed, on the dressing table with its low bench, on the lamp shade. Walls of soft peach, with a faint cream stripe. Ky lay back against the piled pillows, wondering where she was. The last she remembered was the Captains’ Guild… men with masks and guns… police… then it came back, all a rush of memory. She blinked. This wasn’t a jail, she was sure of that. She’d never seen this room before, but the fragrance, familiar since childhood, suggested the legation and its garden of Slotter Key natives.

Before she thought to reach for the comunit on the bedside table, someone shouldered the door open and entered with a tray, a stout woman in a flowered tunic. She brought the tray to the bedside and began offloading dishes onto the bedside table.

“Ah, good, you’re awake. You’ll be wondering where you are and what happened,” the woman said. “Slotter Key legation. The doctor wants to talk to you and so does the consul and the Belinta police. I’m Carla, by the way, and you’re supposed to take your time eating as much as you want before anyone tries to talk to you. Doctor’s orders.” She poured out a cup of tea; Ky hitched herself more upright in the bed, took it, and sipped.

“Tell me what happened at the Captains’ Guild,” Ky said. “Upstairs, I mean.”

“My feet hurt,” Carla said, ignoring the question. She plumped down in the upholstered chair and kicked her shoes off. “I’m not supposed to talk to you about what happened; I’m supposed to be sure you’re really awake and have had something to eat.” She laid her head back and sighed. Ky stared a moment then picked up one of the pastries and started to bite into it. Then she stopped. Whatever had happened after the part she remembered, someone had tried to kill her—not once, but twice, counting the attempt to smuggle explosives onto her ship. And she was supposed to eat and drink whatever she was brought?

She put the cup down; it chinked on the saucer, and the woman—Carla—opened her eyes. “Sorry—can I get you anything?”

“How do I know you’re who you say you are?”

“Excuse me?”

Ky realized, as she sat up and threw the covers back, that she was wearing someone else’s nightshirt. She’d never owned one in lavender and green, and besides it was hugely too big. Her head spun for a moment, then cleared.

“You say this is the Slotter Key legation—”

“Yes, of course. Where else would it be?”

“And you’re—a legation employee?”

The woman drew herself up, red patches coming up on her cheeks, and gave Ky a hostile glance. “I am the consul’s wife,” she said. “Carla Maria Inosyeh.”

Ky felt her face heating up. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “You weren’t—I didn’t meet you before, at the dinner.”

“I was indisposed.” An impatient movement in the chair, then the woman fished for her shoes and put them back on. “And before you ask, yes, this is my bedroom you’re in, and my nightdress you’re wearing. I was told your things had been stolen.”

“I’m sorry,” Ky said again. “I didn’t know—I am confused—they tried to kill me, and I was afraid—”

The woman’s expression softened. “I suppose it’s understandable. It’s been a very strange day, I hear. But perhaps you should see Parin—my husband the consul—now. I will have to tell him later that I managed to frighten the redoubtable Captain Vatta.” She actually smiled as she went to the door.

The tea must be doing its work; Ky felt more solidly there than she had a few minutes before. “Wait,” she said. “I believe you. Please—stay, sit down, and I’ll eat—” She picked up the pastry again and bit into it. It was delicious.