FarmPower, in the tail end of its recorded sales pitch, mentioned its credit terms. Sheer robbery, but she didn’t have to worry about the interest rate because “… we do not extend credit offplanet; this includes consignment carriers. Please make arrangements with the financial institution of your choice. FarmPower apologizes for any inconvenience…”

So she would have to pay cash for the ag equipment. Fine. Then she could find a lender for the ship repairs. Lots of people borrowed to pay for ship repairs…

By morning, she had a list of the equipment she needed, and signed on to FarmPower’s interactive sales site again. The total brought a whistle of dismay. Prices were up 3.8 percent from what Belinta had paid—not surprisingly, but still. She was going to have to find a lender for that, too, or have no down payment for the ship repairs.

The list of financial institutions willing to do business with a first-trip independent captain, even one named Vatta, was short and not sweet. Over half were lending companies whose own ratings didn’t make her cut. Her name and letter of credit got her an interview with the Loan Department at Crown & Spears, but their rates were… high.

“I have the signed contract with Belinta’s Bureau of Economic Development,” she said, tipping the fac to the loan officer’s implant.

“That’s good,” the loan officer said. She was an older woman with silver hair pulled back into a braid. “That means we can almost certainly approve the loan. It does not, of course, change the interest rate.”

Ky’s implant calculated the total cost, including transfer fees, and compared it to the profit margin she’d originally loaded. Ouch.

“And I should warn you,” the woman said, “that the way events are proceeding between Sabine Prime and Sabine Secundus, you would be wise to procure any necessary funds soon. Interest rates will be rising, I’m quite sure.”

From her earliest training, she knew that anyone pressuring for a quick deal had other priorities than the customer’s welfare. But when she queried the implant’s newsfeed, she found that the woman was right: Sabine Secundus and Sabine Prime had long been at loggerheads over some obscure religious matter, and it looked like the conflict might erupt in violence any moment. The market, though volatile, looked to be headed up, in anticipation of hostilities that would require increased manufacture of war goods.

Great. So she was short of money with a ship needing repair and a contract, and she might be in the middle of a war as well. How many other rules of safe trading could she break? She thought for a few moments; the woman didn’t rush her. If she could get the cargo up to the ship, then trouble on the surface couldn’t prevent her from getting it… and the ship repair facilities were in space, where again a surface war wouldn’t affect them. True, Secundus had supporters on the mining world, Tertius, but her implant indicated no ability by either Prime or Secundus to sustain a war in space.

She would rather have locked in ship repair first, but in the event…

She arranged the loan as quickly as she could, for as much of the purchase price as she could. From the bank, she was able to contact FarmPower and arrange transport of the machinery to orbit—at least “freight on board” in the price meant that delivery was covered, though not transfer to her ship. From the bank’s secure com booth, she let Tobai know what was coming, and when, and briefly explained the political and economic problems involved.

“And yes, I know, we still have to get the ship repaired, but at least we won’t have the cargo impounded.”

“See your point,” was all he said. “When is delivery?”

“Tomorrow or the next day, depending on cargo shuttle availability. They say it’ll take four shuttles, and their estimated load time here is six hours per. They’re starting to move the cargo to the shuttle port now, though—or anyway, they said within four hours. I’ll keep on it.”

“Fine, you do that. If we’re in a hurry, we may need to hire some temp labor, for loading…”

“We can’t,” Ky said. “At least—we shouldn’t.”

She looked at the time when she came out of the booth. Close enough to her courtesy call on the consul. The morning’s calls had all taken longer than she hoped. Her implant reported that she could get by without returning to the Captains’ Guild for a trip through the ’fresher. A simple tuning of pores… her skin tingled, briefly, and for a moment she smelled a sharp herbal scent she couldn’t name, then it vanished.

Someone sneezed, across the walkway, and instantly yanked a screaming yellow sprayer from his pocket and sprayed something that smelled like melons. Ky tried not to stare. Other pedestrians ignored him, Ky noticed.

“Captain Vatta—” That was her escort, who until now had been as quiet as a robot servant.

“Yes?”

“I am receiving information relevant to your safety. It is my considered advice that we proceed immediately to the embassy.”

“What’s going on?” Ky asked.

“I—would rather not speculate,” he said. “My concern is your safety, and I am sure your officials will explain if there is need.”

If the loan department at the bank was worried, and her escort was worried, perhaps she herself should be worried.

“That’s where I was going anyway,” she said. “It’s only a short distance; do you think it’s still safe to go on foot?”

“At present, yes,” he said.

“Good,” Ky said. “Let’s go, then.”

By the time she reached the embassy, she knew something was going on. The streets were oddly quieter; though people were talking, they had lowered their voices. Pedestrians would occasionally stop short—listening to their implants, probably—and then stride on, looking tense. Ky wondered if any of them were reservists being called to active duty. Her escort ducked into the guard’s kiosk; Ky went on into the building.

“Ah, Captain Vatta,” the desk clerk said. “Have you heard the news?”

“That Secundus and Prime are unhappy with one another, yes,” Ky said.

“There’s been a demonstration at Majel Dis, in Secundus,” the clerk said. “We just heard… four deaths confirmed, many injured.”

Ky could think of nothing to say.

“The consul would not commit the discourtesy of failing to greet you, Captain, but he is rather busy and would appreciate it if your visit could be… brief.”

“Of course,” Ky said.

“We will be updating our citizens with whatever information we have, of course,” the clerk said. “We recommend that you authorize an override to your implant, so that we can send to you directly whether your skullphone is on or not.”

“That’s fine,” Ky said. She thumbprinted the form he held out.

“Now,” the clerk said. “Let me show you to the reception room.”

The reception room, a parlor overlooking a small garden planted with native Slotter Key flowers, was centered with a large table, laden with refreshments. The consul greeted Ky warmly, as if nothing were going on, and led her to a pair of chairs near the window.

“Captain Vatta, so pleased to see you. I’m Doss Verdin, senior consul. Does this mean that Vatta Transport is setting up more frequent regular service here?”

“Not to my knowledge, sir; I am on a contract run from Belinta.”

“Ah. Belinta. We have had complaints from that quarter.”

“They blame Slotter Key for the Pavrati not delivering their ag machinery,” Ky said.

“I know,” he said, pinching his nose. “They said so many times. I tried to explain that Slotter Key and Pavrati Shipping were not the same entity, that we had no control over Pavrati, and so on. I understand you’re here on the same errand from Belinta?”

“Yes. Perhaps Vatta can redeem Slotter Key…”

“I hope so,” he said. “You’re aware of the political problems we have here now?”