Marque and Reprisal by Elizabeth Moon Page A

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?”
    “I don’t know,” Ky said. “I’ve been in transit. What have you heard?”
    “Two dozen rumors, nothing solid,” Traffic Control said. “But here—if you dock here, you may have problems getting out, and you will have to pay cash—Vatta credit’s down the tubes.”
    “If I don’t dock here, I may run out of air,” Ky said. “So bring me in.”
    “Your choice,” Traffic Control said. “There’s an eight-hundred-credit cash deposit on docking; Immigration Control will be there to collect it.”
    “Thank you,” Ky said through clenched teeth. Then she called the crew together.
    “What I know is all bad, but I’m sure we don’t know everything,” she said, then went on to describe the news. “It may be that all the other Vattas are dead. It may be that the news is all wrong and they’re all alive. But for our own safety, we have to assume that there is someone—apparently a lot of someones with plenty of resources—after Vatta.”
    “You aren’t setting foot off this ship,” Quincy said.
    “On the contrary, I must, to do what needs doing,” Ky said. “At any rate, it would do me no good to sit here and have my crew picked off one or two at a time. I can’t run this thing alone.
    “But we are going to be careful. Those procedures that Martin developed, that we’ve been practicing—we are all going to adhere to them. No casual wandering around the station, no letting people wander into our dock space. We’re going to carry taggers; we’re going to put up extra security screening, the whole bit.”
    “What do you think you have to do that requires you to go offship?” Quincy asked.
    Ky looked at her, but Quincy didn’t back down. Not surprising. “To start with, I have to pay docking fees in advance, in cash. Vatta credit’s been frozen. I should have a private account here, but since we don’t know when the Belinta ansibles went out, I don’t know if the transfer I set up before we left actually went through. I need to exchange hard goods for cash, open an account, get us back into business. None of you can do that. In addition, I need a way to defend myself,” she said.
    “You… are you talking about weapons? About arming the