“Thank you,” Ky said. She felt buffeted by the woman’s approval; that made her feel wary.

“Obviously, we’re interested in anything more you can tell us about the attack on the ansibles. You were here when it happened, I understand?”

“Yes,” Ky said. “But all I know is what was on the newsfeeds.”

“Of course. But we are asking everyone—had you heard anything which, in retrospect, might indicate such an attack was coming?”

“No,” Ky said. “That trouble was coming, yes. In fact, the Slotter Key embassy asked me to evacuate some crewmen who’d been stranded here. But other than war, nothing specific.”

“Right. And once the officers of the other ships came aboard, when did you first become aware of the involvement of this Captain Paison?”

“Not fast enough,” Ky said. A wave of guilt almost blacked out her vision. Gullible, susceptible, an easy mark for an experienced manipulator like Paison. Not so easy, she reminded herself: he was dead and she wasn’t. She forced her attention back to the conversation. “The captain of the passenger liner was being so difficult that Paison seemed reasonable by comparison. I actually trusted him, until the mutiny. In fact, Paison himself never told me he was involved in the war, or in the attack on the ansibles. That was one of his communications personnel—I gave you his name—”

“Yes, and he’s in protective custody.” Illis’ smile conveyed no amusement. “He is quite concerned that Paison’s other associates might come after him. Unfortunately, he does not strike us as particularly trustworthy either, and we wanted to be sure that what he’s telling us is the same thing he was telling you.”

“Ah. Well, I have that logged. I’ll be glad to make a copy for you.” She called in Sheryl and asked her to make the copy.

“Exactly what we hoped.” The ISC representative smiled at Ky. “Now, about the Mackensee involvement. In your own mind, do you have any feeling, however vague, that they were involved?”

“Not anymore,” Ky said. “If you’ve talked to them, you undoubtedly know that I was injured when they came aboard my ship—not their fault. One of the people I picked up at Sabine Prime was stupid and got himself shot. I spent some time aboard their command ship, being patched up. Everyone—top to bottom—seemed shocked by the attack on the ansibles, and they denied being part of it. Said it would be stupid for them.”

“It’s stupid for anyone,” Illis said, and for an instant her blue eyes chilled to glacial temperature. “That’s why we need to find out who doesn’t realize that. Was it someone so ignorant or stupid that they thought it would be a good idea to tweak our tail, or was the target actually someone else? Is this an attempt to frame someone?”

“I don’t know,” Ky said. “But I’d bet on stupid. There’s a lot of it going around.”

Illis laughed, a throaty chuckle. “So there is. But we are bound to look at more than the simple answer, Captain Vatta. Oh—and while I’m here, I was asked to deliver a message to you, by hand, from your family. You will have realized that they were quite concerned when they learned that you were in this system when the ansibles went out.” She passed a data cube across to Ky.

“I was hoping they wouldn’t know,” Ky said. Her stomach churned.

Illis shook her head. “We provided a list of ships known to be in this system to appropriate authorities on the planets concerned. I suppose they notified your family. At any rate, your family contacted us, and it was agreed that I could deliver this message, since we didn’t know… how long it would be before ansible service could be restored. There’s also a line of credit arranged for you, via ISC, in your family’s name. It’s direct for you, so if you need anything, just contact us.”

They had not known whether she was alive or not when they compiled this message… but they had thought to provide for her.

“Thank you,” Ky said, past the lump in her throat.

“That other Vatta ship that’s in the system,” the woman said. “Captain Furman, I believe his name is. He’s told us he’ll be taking you away as soon as possible…”

“Captain Furman and I will have another discussion or two before I decide what to do,” Ky said, with a slight emphasis on “I.”

“I see.” Her smile widened. “Well, in that case, we would like to talk to you again—my boss, the Incident Inspector, in particular—and thank you for your contribution to the solution of this situation.”

“I haven’t really done anything,” Ky said.

“On the contrary. We really had no idea what was going on, until your transmissions started coming in. You gave us a valuable lead, Captain, and we’re grateful. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to my boss. He’s waiting for my report.” She took the copy of the recording Ky gave her, and left. Ky glanced at the chronometer: 1340. Definitely not time enough to see anyone else before Colonel Kalin showed up. With, she hoped, the contract and the money. Time enough, though, to look at the message.

She put it in the cube reader. There on the screen was her father, with the expression she had seen only a few times.

“Kylara…” He swallowed. “Ky, I don’t know at this time if you will ever receive this, and I’m finding it hard to record knowing that you might… might not. But assuming that ISC can find you in time, I wanted you to know that your family is behind you. We understand why you took a contract from Belinta; we are not angry that you went to Sabine. Gary and Quincy may have told you by now that most Vatta captains do go a bit wild with their first commands. We trust you, we love you. Please come back soon, though, because we… I… really would like to see you in one piece and soon. I understand that something happened to your implant. As soon as possible, I’ll be shipping a replacement to you by secure carrier—probably a Vatta ship, hand-carried. It will have all the current codes preloaded. It might be better to let that ship take over your Belinta contract, but that’s up to you. And Ky, I’m really sorry to have sent you off ill-prepared, and into such danger…”

He hadn’t sent her into danger; he’d sent her on what should have been, and probably was, a perfectly safe route, a boring milk run. She herself had made it dangerous by changing plans, by stepping outside his definitions. It wasn’t his fault, any more than her trouble at the Academy had been his fault; she hadn’t blamed him for that, either.

She knew he had meant this message to be warm, loving, consoling, encouraging. So why was she feeling like a cat with its fur rubbed backward? That was obvious… He was still treating her like a feckless girl, who needed protection and guidance and consolation. He was patting her head, putting an arm around her shoulders, as if she had fallen and scraped a knee instead of having faced real danger, death in several forms, and survived by her own abilities.

What had happened to her—to her ship, to her crew—could not be consoled by a father’s love and care. Even though a small part of her wanted to run back to his protection, back to Slotter Key to fall weeping in his arms and rest in his understanding… she was beyond that. There would be no easy answers, no easy comfort.

This must be the message Captain Furman had had—go rescue my poor helpless daughter. He might have his own reasons for thinking she was a spoiled darling—she had been pretty rotten at thirteen, she admitted to herself, and probably deserved what he thought of her—but she had grown up.

She looked up to find Quincy watching her. “It’s from Dad,” she said. “There was a lot he didn’t know when he recorded this. He’s being comforting and protective… He wants me to let Furman take my cargo to Belinta and bring me home. He’s apologized for letting me get into such a dangerous situation.”

Quincy shook her head. “Wasn’t his fault. Do you want to go home?”

“No. I mean, I accept that he meant well. But the Belinta contract is my contract, not Furman’s. Not even Vatta’s, when it comes to that. Mine. And we have cargo there that’s due at Leonora and Lastway. All we have to do is repair the ship…”