“So what happened then?”

“Next thing I knew, Martin bobbed up and shot him. I don’t suppose Turnish knew he was armed, or could move that fast. Then we got into that doorway and waited until the guards showed up.”

“You have a license for your weapon,” Grant said. “They checked that at the other guard station. But your crewman—do you know if he has a concealed carry permit?”

“Yes,” Ky said. “I arranged for that when I purchased mine, along with my weapon, at Blades on Hub Three.”

“Um. And you were both both wearing torso armor?”

“Yes,” Ky said. “Also purchased today at Blades. We had some reason to expect trouble, as I’m sure you know. But my real concern,” Ky said, “is that someone I hired from a bonded protection company tried to kill me. He had all the right recognition codes, the ones the company provided to me. Does this mean the company is bent, or are they missing a legitimate agent?”

“I assure you we will investigate that aspect,” Grant said. “They say they did dispatch an escort named Willem Turnish, but we do not yet know if the dead man really was Turnish.” He shook his head. “Do you know why he warned you? If he was part of the plan to kill you, that doesn’t make sense.”

Ky had not thought of that. “I don’t know,” she said.

“Unless,” Grant said, “he set it up so it could look like someone else shot you. Though that seems complicated. Tell me how he came to you. Had you arranged for an escort with Baritom?”

“They contacted my ship; a message was relayed to me and I called the number provided. They said their dockside personnel had noticed I went out and asked if I wanted an escort. It was something I’d mentioned to them before. Why?”

He sighed. “I don’t know yet. I’m just trying to understand what exactly happened. Preliminary forensics confirms that the individual in the doorway of Andy’s fired the three rounds we found onsite, and that those rounds were fired before the ones that killed him.”

How else, Ky wondered, but didn’t say.

“Forensics cannot confirm that the individual known to you as Willem Turnish was in fact menacing you with his weapon before your crewman shot him. We are experiencing difficulty in obtaining uncorrupted vid surveillance data from that area. It looks as if someone intended to insert a very different scenario, but we tapped into the system too quickly.” His smile now was predatory. “We are not happy to find that someone is attempting to corrupt our surveillance.”

“That would be… very bad,” Ky said.

“Yes. At any rate, the evidence at this point does not support holding you in custody, even though you might be safer here than out on the streets. Though it’s clear from both your stories that your crewman Martin shot and killed this Turnish fellow, the previous threats against your family suggest that it’s not that unlikely he was trying to kill you. Therefore I am willing to release him, as well, into your custody. Excuse me a moment.” He left the room.

Ky leaned back. The gray jumpsuit smelled of harsh institutional soap, but she could still smell something in her hair. She would have to get in touch with Baritom… would they blame her for the death of their operative, or would they accept that he had turned on her? She ached all over. She did not want to hike over to the station to take the tram back to Hub Two.

Grant came back. “Since it’s clear you’re the target of malicious intent, I’m authorizing the use of a patrol scooter to get you back to your docking area. We can’t provide around-the-clock protection—we don’t have the personnel—but that much we can do.”

“Thank you,” Ky said, feeling absurdly grateful.

“Your clothes and weapons will be returned to you at dockside,” he went on.

Everyone was back at Vatta dockside when Ky and Martin returned. Ky brushed off the concerned questions. “We both need to clean up,” she said. “And I need some sleep. I’m hoping the ship unit will restore this suit.” She didn’t think it would, but it was worth trying.

After she put her filthy, stained clothes in the ’fresher, she took a long, hot shower and fell into bed. She lay still, breathed deeply, and didn’t go to sleep. She tried meditation, attempted to visualize the rainbow… but all she could see was the blank black circle of the gun muzzle pointing at her face, and the red blood, all she could feel was the shock of fear and despair, the elation of killing, side by side and overlapping. Again and again, she tried to work her way through the color sequence, the calming words, and each time the black circle and red splatters dominated her thoughts. Finally she emerged from her cabin, still tired, aching, sore where her elbows and knees had hit the pavement… but too alert, too tense. It would almost be better if her father was dead, because then he would never know that his daughter, his precious little girl, got a charge out of killing people.

True, they had been trying to kill her—all the ones she had killed—but they were still people, and Sapphic Cyclans considered killing people as primal dissonance. Her failure to visualize the Cycle proved they were right, at least as far as the use of that guided meditation went.

“Jim’s sleeping,” Quincy said, when she asked about him. “And we’ve got these for him.” Standard spacer shore rig for those not fashion-conscious, blue trousers and a belted tunic in shades of tan with brown trim on sleeves and neck that would pass unnoticed on every station in the quadrant. “Kind of dull, but we thought just not wearing dull green would be a shock.” She grinned.

“Good idea,” Ky said.

“Are you all right, Captain?”

“I’m fine. Well, I have bruised elbows, but it’s not serious.” With a wave, Ky headed upship.

On the bridge, Sheryl sat watch. “I won’t have to go out for anything, will I?” she asked. She looked as tense as Ky felt.

“No, of course not.”

“Good. Lee half wants to, I think. He thinks all this is exciting.” Her tone said she thought Lee was crazy.

“You don’t,” Ky said.

“No. I—I know I’m the only navigator you’ve got, Captain, and I like you, but if I weren’t scared to set foot off the ship, I’d ask to separate. I just want a nice safe berth on a nice safe ship.”

Some people just were not cut out for adventure, Ky thought, and then wondered why she herself was. “Sheryl, if there’s another ship in that needs a navigator—or whose navigator wants some excitement—I’d say take the chance. But I’m not sure there are going to be many nice safe ships for a while now. Sure, Vatta’s being attacked at the moment. But there are other wealthy cargo lines out there, and unless we find out who’s doing this and stop them, everyone’s at risk.”

“I suppose,” Sheryl said. She sighed. “I just… my stomach gets all knotted up and I can’t sleep.”

“I know the feeling,” Ky said.

“Yes, but you are actually doing things; people have tried to kill you. I haven’t been hurt at all yet, and I’m this scared. I’m just sitting here…” Her voice trailed away.

That could be fixed. “Sheryl, sitting here alone will just make it worse. So I’m relieving you of bridge duty, starting now. Just a second—” She called the other sections, and found that Alene could indeed use more help with cargo shifting. “You’re now a cargo handler. Not dockside—just shifting things inside the ship. No more risk than up here, and you’ll be busy and with others.”

For an instant Sheryl looked annoyed—a navigator doing physical work?—then she smiled. “Maybe that’ll keep my mind off it,” she said.

“Hope so,” Ky said. “Now scat. I need to make some calls.” What she’d told Sheryl was perfectly true. Once the attackers finished mopping up Vatta resources, they would turn on others. If she could get some support from other traders—or even information—she would no longer be fighting this war alone.