Colonel Kalin was prompt, as she’d expected. In person he looked as tough and competent as he had over the comscreen.
“Well, Captain Vatta,” he said, extending his hand. She shook it; it was hard, callused. “I’m glad to meet you at last.”
“Welcome aboard, Colonel,” she said.
“Is there a secure area?” he asked.
“Not really; we can talk in the recreation area with the doors shut, or my cabin—though it’s quite small—or the bridge.”
“I see. The recreation area, then. I presume it’s monitored?”
“Of course. But merchants no more than the military want their affairs talked about. We have some screening capability.”
“You will not mind if I add mine …?” It was just barely a question.
“Not at all,” Ky said. She led the way to the rec area, and spoke into the intercom. “Bridge, this is the captain. I’ll be in conference in the rec room, with screens on. Use a visual flash if we have a situation develop.” She pulled out a chair at one of the tables. “Have a seat, Colonel.”
“Thanks,” he said, sitting down. She sat across from him as he glanced around. “Pardon me for being blunt, but we have a lot to talk about, and we’re both busy professionals.”
“I understand you’ve spoken to ISC about the ansible attack; they said you’ve told them we said we weren’t involved. And I’ve seen what you sent by beacon-flash as well. But is there anything, any detail, you haven’t included? We’ve had to post a hefty bond with ISC until they clear us for that action, and the sooner we settle that the better.”
“Nothing but the recording of Paison’s crewman talking to me,” Ky said.
“And you jettisoned his body?”
“Yes. No cold storage,” Ky said. Except in with their food, which she didn’t think needed saying.
“I wondered if that was why. Did you beacon it?”
“No, the only spare beacon we had aboard was put on our cargo.”
“Ah. We’re going to have to try to find it, because from what you and his com tech say, some of his contact information was on his person. Can you give us an approximate location?”
“Only with difficulty. We have the elapsed time, of course, but Paison tried to do a complete wipe of our system, so most of the data are suspect. We haven’t had time to do a purge and reset, though, so it might be retrievable.”
“Just not believable. Oh, well. The next thing is this contract between us. I hope you believe me when I say that we did not foresee any of the difficulties …”
“I didn’t think so …,” Ky said.
“No. We said ten days, and expected to be back for the passengers in seven, actually. Usually that’s plenty of leeway. But when our techs couldn’t get even the backup ansible working, we knew we had to jump outsystem to get to ISC before they got to us. Again, we thought we would be right back in the system, but ISC wouldn’t pass us out of Tangier, and insisted that another commander be appointed. That’s when I came aboard this operation.”
“You were trying to work on the ansible platforms? I thought only ISC could—”
“We have techs who can restart backup systems,” the Colonel said, rapidly and not looking at her. “And yes, ISC knows about it.” She wondered anyway. “At any rate, we did not expect to be delayed coming back into Sabine system, and we were quite concerned—and expressed our concerns to ISC—that you would be running short of supplies. May I ask when you began rationing?”
“As soon as we’d cleared off the counters of the food we had no storage for,” Ky said. “My—I’d been told one time that it was always wise to have a few days’ reserve, so I calculated for twelve days, not ten. That wasn’t bad. Then, when you left the system, I cut back again, trying for the maximum survival with what we had. I had to keep crew rations up so they could do their work …”
“That must have been tough,” the Colonel said again. “But I’m also impressed. You’ll pardon me for saying what you know, that you’re quite young to be captain, and I would not have expected a civilian captain with so little experience to be that decisive. Your company must provide excellent training.”
“Actually, I learned that at the Slotter Key Space Academy,” Ky said. Surely he knew that already. Major Harris knew; Harris must have told him. “Before I was kicked out,” she added.
“Um, yes, Major Harris said something about that. Typical cadet trouble, he said.” Colonel Kalin shook his head. “You would be surprised how many good young’uns have something like that in their pasts. Now—I’d like to hear some details about this mutiny. We had no idea that Captain Paison was going to cause trouble.”
Ky wanted some details of the money she’d be getting, but this wasn’t the time to bring that up. Instead, she began a concise summary of the mutiny, starting with her realization that the passengers’ location in the cargo compartments gave them potential access to the control systems. When she came to the confrontation, the scene was as vivid in her mind as it had been since. She struggled to keep her voice level and her hands still.
“So Gary said ‘Don’t let them—’ and I shot Paison, and his mate cut Gary’s throat—”
“Why did you shoot Paison first?” Kalin asked. He sounded like one of her instructors at the Academy taking her back through a tactical problem.
“I didn’t have a good shot at the mate—the way he was holding Gary—and Paison was the leader. I thought maybe, if I got him—” Ky shook her head. “It was so fast—”
“You did the right thing,” Kalin said. “But again—it’s surprising. I’d have to credit your military training. Then what?”
“The mate’s arm sagged as Gary died, giving me a target. I shot him, but not fatally. He charged; I fired again, and that time got him in the throat. I thought that would end it—the others behind them were too stunned by the blood, I think. But Kristoffson came at me; my junior engineer and I fired together, and he went down. Then I told them to sit down, and they obeyed me, and—” And then had come the reaction, the surge of nausea, the grief, the need to keep going anyway, keep the control she had regained, save her ship … Again she fought back the lump that had appeared in her throat.
Kalin waited a moment before saying anything. Then he said, “If you don’t mind my asking, what was your class standing before that?”
Ky looked up, surprised. “The Academy didn’t release numerical standings prior to graduation,” she said. “But I was in the honor corps.” It still hurt, she found, but the tears were easier to control now.
“I don’t find that surprising,” the Colonel said. “You know, you reacted much more like a military officer than a civilian ship’s captain. It was a creditable performance, Captain Vatta, a very creditable performance. If you were a junior officer in my command, I’d be putting you in for a citation.”
Ky choked back the “Really?” that wanted to come out in a school-girlish squeak. “Thank you, Colonel,” she said in what was almost a normal voice. She could not help the internal warmth that she hoped didn’t show in her face.
“Now—we have some financial business to conduct. I have the amended contract with me—I understand Major Harris has gone over the provisions with you?”
“Yes, he has,” Ky said.
“I understand that your company’s legal staff has vetted part of it—the per diem for extra time and a bonus for inconvenience, delay, damage—but since at that time no one knew about the mutiny, we did not include any settlement for the death of a crewmember and so on. If you feel you need to wait until Vatta’s legal staff has approved this additional settlement, ISC tells us the communications ansible should be up for limited service in a day or so. Or, we can deposit the amount agreed on by your company’s lawyers now, and defer the rest until that part of the contract is approved. It’s your call, Captain.”
If she waited for approval, what would the company lawyers say? More important, what would her father say? What if he ordered her, in his position as CFO of Vatta Transport, to turn over her cargo to Furman? She was not going to do that. She was absolutely not, not going to do that.
“You’re right that it’s complicated,” she said slowly. “My contract with Belinta, to deliver the cargo that was aboard when your people boarded us, was a personal contract, not a Vatta Transport contract—within my discretion, but not committing the company to it. The company would honor it, had I been unable to fulfill it, but that’s not the case. However, this ship is presently owned by Vatta Transport, and her crew—barring those I picked up here on Sabine Prime—are employees of Vatta Transport. So that portion of the settlement which pertains to the death of a crewman must reference Vatta Transport, Ltd. I can, as a Vatta captain, make a valid contract in the name of the firm—including a death settlement—but that is in a different category from contracts for carriage.” She paused. “I feel that the contract should cite a specific amount as death settlement for Gary Tobai—that is the part of the contract which must be with Vatta Transport, Ltd., rather than with me.”
“It doesn’t now, but it could,” Colonel Kalin said. “I presume you would then want a separate transfer for that amount?”
“Yes. It would make clear to the company that I consider the rest of the contract a personal one.”
“Let’s talk to Major Harris,” the Colonel said. His eyes glazed slightly—his implant, of course. Ky wondered how much he depended on it in combat situations. His gaze returned to her. “He says that makes sense; he suggests one hundred thousand credits as the amount, and says a handwritten emendation, initialed by both of us, will be adequate.”
That was about right, Ky knew. On Slotter Key, the standard scale of compensation for unintended death was graduated by age and expertise, but 100,000 covered most cases. “That will do,” she said, mentally subtracting 100,000 from the total payment. It still left enough for the repairs she needed. She took the hardcopy of the contract, flipped through the pages, and wrote in the margin an addendum specifying 100,000 credits compensation for the death of crewman Gary Tobai, signed it, and slid it across to Kalin for his initials.
“Send that to Captain Furman,” she said. “He is the senior Vatta captain here, and he will be best suited to receive funds due the company. I’ve already sent Major Harris the account information for my part.”
Kalin cocked his head at her. “Captain, I begin to believe you are devious as well as competent. It almost sounds as if you’re about to leave Vatta Transport …”
“No,” Ky said. But her voice carried little conviction. She hadn’t had time to think about it, and yet … Vatta offered her security, security and ease—as long as she stayed in the narrow lanes they advised.
Kalin leaned back. “You know, Captain, with your background—and considering your performance—you might be better suited for something other than a glorified truck driver.”
“I seem to be suited for getting into trouble,” Ky said, looking down at her hands.
“Exactly.” Kalin nodded. “You get into trouble, but then you get out of it—you survive, and you even prosper. You’re not cut out for boring monotony. Just being thrown out of one military academy doesn’t preclude going into the military, you know. We might even hire you.” He grinned at her.
“Hire me?” Her gaze came back to him; her heart pounded. She could feel the heat in her face. “Why would you hire me?”
“Let’s see …” He ticked off points on his fingers. “One of my senior NCOs said you handled the boarding well; she wasn’t surprised to find out you had a military background. You didn’t panic when you woke up in a military sick bay—and yes, though you had meds in your system, I’ve seen people panic with those same meds onboard. You accepted the challenge of carrying an overload of passengers, and you coped with every emergency they supplied, including a mutiny. You can make quick decisions—and more important, the right quick decisions. You aren’t squeamish. And you can kill at need.”
And enjoy it came the response she did not want to reveal. For one moment she imagined herself in a Mackensee uniform, commanding a real unit … working up to command a real ship, a warship.
“I have a cargo to deliver,” she said, trying to push that vision aside. “I promised them.”
“Then you have to do what you promised,” he said. He said it the way she felt about it, as much a fact as 9 × 3 = 27. “But think about it, Captain Vatta. If you ever change your mind and want to apply, get in touch with me.” His gaze unfocused again, then refocused on her. “There. I’ve instructed Major Harris to make the transfers. That should be complete in a few minutes. I know you’ll be busy working on repairs, but you’ll be welcome aboard my ship, if you care to visit while we’re here. Just call over and we’ll set up a time. The officers usually meet for a half hour about 1800, before dinner.”
Go aboard a warship again? She wanted to, and she was afraid that her desire showed in her expression. “Thank you,” she said. “It will depend on how the repairs go …”
“Of course. It’s been a pleasure, Captain Vatta.” His handshake was military-firm; his expression the one she would like to have seen on her father’s face, instead of that worried concern.
When Colonel Kalin left, she still had to face meetings with Sabine Prime officials and Captain Furman’s representative; she didn’t look forward to either.
Sabine Prime had sent a woman with the title of “Second Assistant Secretary to the Department of Foreign Affairs.” Unlike the ISC representative, Gillian Favor was a vivacious young woman who waved her hands a lot when she talked.
“We have several issues, Captain Vatta,” she said. “I suppose you know that we are charged with administering the Universal Commercial Code, so we have to report on your handling of the passengers assigned you by Mackensee and the incidents which resulted in the deaths of … er …” She looked at a list. “Captain Paison, his mate, Captain Kristoffson, and your two crewmen. Then we also need to know what, if anything, you knew about the plot to blow up the ansibles before you left this station.”
“I knew nothing about it—my first knowledge of the attack came when I tried to make an ansible call and the ready light didn’t come on, and then the standby light went out.”
“Oh, my. We certainly hadn’t known you were making a call at the time. Do you have the records of that?”
“No,” Ky said. “My communications equipment, including the stored records, was damaged in the mutiny that occurred.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. Well, let’s see. Now, you have some kind of records of the trip, don’t you? The court will want to establish whether or not your agreement with the mercenaries qualified as ‘cooperation under constraint’ or not, and whether the treatment you accorded the passengers was in line with the UCC.”
“Yes, I have those records. Do you need them in hardcopy, or do you have a filedump where I can send them?”
“A filedump will be fine, Captain Vatta. Thank you. And let me just say, I am so impressed. I really admire you—”
“Excuse me?”
Favor’s smile was brighter than ever. “I mean, I always wanted to go out in space and have adventures, but I didn’t know how … My family’s always gone into government service. I really admire someone who goes out and does things.”
Ky opened her mouth to say it was nothing much, and adventures weren’t as much fun as they were made out to be, but Favor rattled on.
“I mean, I’ve been to the adventure resorts and things, you know, with mountains and snow and all that, but space … it really is different. When I think about you, all alone out there in the empty dark and cold and all and running out of food, it just gives me the shivers. I mean, I know I could never do it.” That finished on a note of near smugness. She was clearly absolving herself of the need to move out of her own comfort zone.
“I suppose not,” Ky said, instead of the half-dozen other things she wanted to say. She hadn’t intended the sharp tone, but Favor stopped rattling and looked at her.
“I suppose you think I’m silly,” Favor said.
“No,” Ky said. “But I didn’t get into this for the adventure.”
“Really? Why did you, then?”
It was a reasonable question. “My family trucks cargo in space ships,” Ky said. “Like yours goes into government service.”
“You mean—they just expected you to? It wasn’t that you wanted to get away, get out into space, see other planets?”
She did not want to talk to this person about her past, about her dreams. “Pretty much,” Ky said instead. “And for the most part, it’s not all that exciting. Seeing other planets, sure. But the rest of the time it’s just business.”
“Oh.” Favor looked disappointed. “I suppose, if you’re used to it—”
“Right.” Ky was tired of this detour. “If you don’t need anything else, I have other appointments, and it’s getting late—”
“Oh. Of course, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I was just interested, it sounded so exciting—”
When she had twittered her way out, Ky shook her head. “I’m probably not being fair—”
“To think she’s a fluttery featherhead? Possibly not, but she’s a good imitation.” Quincy had come onto the bridge, and now shook her head.
“And I still have to cope with Captain Furman.” Ky let the resentment come into her voice there. Quincy looked at her.
“Didn’t you apprentice on his ship?”
“Yes. It was not a happy experience.”
“Apprenticeships rarely are. What’s wrong? Is he still treating you like a child?”
“Yes. You saw part of it. He’s going to want to drag me back home like a trophy failure …”
“You need something to eat,” Quincy said. “Garlan, go get her something to eat.” Garlan nodded and left the bridge.
Ky started to say You’re not my mother, but her stomach growled and she realized she was feeling hollow.
“All right,” she said, sinking back into the seat. “I am hungry.”
When they were alone, Quincy leaned forward. “Ky—is there more to that message your father sent?”
“Yes,” Ky said. She felt her muscles tense and tried to relax. “Said he was sending a new implant out with a Vatta ship. I suppose that’s Furman.” She could hear the sharpness in her own voice. “I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to let Furman take our cargo to Belinta. It’s my job—my contract—and I’m quite capable of doing it.”
“I agree,” Quincy said.
“And I don’t need the implant,” Ky said.
“I wouldn’t want to do without mine,” Quincy said. “Makes it a lot easier.”
“The implant …” Ky stopped, unable to articulate her feelings about it. She tried again. “The implant is Vatta, in a way. The Vatta connection: the codes, the propriety databases, the protocols, all preloaded for me. Yes, it’s easier to have it all available internally. I really like parts of it. But … when I rely on it … I’m not really thinking for myself. I can miss solutions I might otherwise come up with. We didn’t have them at the Academy.… We had to learn to learn, remember, analyze, plan, all with our own brains.”
“You were doing fine before you were shot,” Quincy said.
“Maybe. Maybe not. It was always whispering to me, shaping what I knew … and with so much in there, I wasn’t as likely to look outside for more information, was I? And after, without it, did I do that much worse?”
“No,” Quincy said. “I have to admit you seemed just as competent without it. But everyone has one …”
“Most people, certainly spacers, yes. If I could have an empty one and choose what to put in it—”
“You could,” Quincy said. “But it seems a waste to me. You need the Vatta protocols.” She paused; Ky said nothing. “By the way, are those mercenaries trying to recruit you?”
“Why?” Ky asked, trying to conceal a guilty start.
“Well, Beeah went dockside, to try to link up with some equipment suppliers, and he told me he ran into one of them who said something about how you’d end up in their pockets.”
“Not likely,” Ky said. “I have a contract to fulfill.”
“What are you going to do if Furman orders you to turn over the ship and give him your cargo?”
“I—don’t know.”
Quincy shook her head. “Now that’s not true. I think you know perfectly well. My real question is, are you going to stop with defying Furman, or are you going to break with Vatta as well? Is that the real reason you don’t want a Vatta-programmed implant?”
“Break with Vatta? I hadn’t even thought of that.” But even as she said it, she knew she had … at some level.
“The thing is, if you decide to break with Vatta, you need to let the crew know. Those who want to stay with Vatta would probably rather leave now, and go with Furman.”
Without the Vatta component of her crew, she had only three crew, the ones she’d picked up here. And even they might not want to stay with her. She thought about them. Two experienced environmental techs, one with some bridge experience. One drives maintenance technician. Hard to run a ship with that. Impossible to run a ship with that, with no pilot, no cargomaster, no …
“Oh. Well, I hadn’t planned to leave Vatta …”
“Can you commit to that beyond Belinta? You don’t want to leave anyone stranded.”
Of course she didn’t want to leave anyone stranded. Her head ached. It was all so blasted complicated. Contracts for this, contracts for that, personnel problems.
“Here, Captain,” Garlan said, bringing in a tray. Ky’s stomach rumbled at the smell of a hearty soup. She ate quickly, aware of Quincy’s worried gaze still resting on her like a heavy weight. When she finished, the problem was still there, and her stomach knotted around the soup.
“I’m not going to abandon my crew anywhere,” Ky said. “But I hear what you’re saying, that some of the Vatta people may want to go back with Furman.”
“As long as you understand …”
“What about you?” Ky asked. “Do you want to go back?” Losing an engineering chief would be bad but not impossible, as long as she didn’t take all her supports with her.
“I haven’t decided,” Quincy said. “I’ll stay with you through repairs, anyway. But—I could retire now, and it’s been a … a difficult trip.”
“Yes,” Ky said. “It has. And you’ve certainly earned retirement. I’d like it if you stayed, though.”
“We’ll see,” Quincy said. “It all depends …”
On what? Ky wanted to ask, but she knew better. “Thanks. I’ll go talk to Furman’s representative now.”
* * *
Furman’s representative was his second in command, a cheerful stocky man in Vatta blue with a small lock-case clipped to his wrist and a large briefcase in his hand.
“Captain Vatta, I’m Bantal Korash,” he said. “I have a special package for you from your father. I’m afraid you’ll have to validate and sign this—” He pulled a plasfilm receipt from his pocket.
“And I’ll have to inspect the seals,” Ky said. That was the first, simplest level of validation for both of them.
“Here, then.” He handed it over; she turned it over and around in a specific pattern, observing that each seal was unbroken. Then she thumbprinted the receipt, signed it, and he put it back in his pocket. “And I also have some forwarded mail; your father says it’s nonurgent but wanted you to have it.” He opened his briefcase and handed her a small pile, including one with all too familiar handwriting. Her heart thudded painfully. Hal. What had he said? Had he understood? “Captain Furman would like to get everything straightened out so we can get back to our route. I understand you have cargo for Belinta?”
“Yes. There’s no reason to delay you—Captain Furman can take the Kat back to his route right away.”
He shook his head. “That’s not what Captain Furman says. He says he’s supposed to make sure you’re all right, and in his mind that means making sure you get back to Slotter Key safely.”
“I’m fine,” Ky said. “You can see that.”
“But the ship … and didn’t someone die?”
“The ship needs repair; we’re working on that. Gary Tobai, my cargomaster, was killed during the mutiny. His funeral’s day after tomorrow, station time.”
“Tobai! I worked with him four years ago, on another ship. What happened?”
“Furman didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
“The passengers the mercenaries stashed aboard the ship included some troublemakers—some of them tried to take the ship over. They did manage to degrade the system controls, turn on the insystem drive, and destroy our communications transmitters. They took Gary hostage, threatened to kill him if I didn’t turn over command of the ship.”
“If they’d done that much, why did they need you?” Korash asked.
“I don’t know. I do know that I tried to stop them—and killed the two ringleaders—but Gary died. I couldn’t stop them in time—”
“But if they had Gary hostage, how could you—”
“I had other crew to think of, and the passengers who weren’t involved. That had to come first. He knew it—he told me not to give in.”
Korash stared at her, eyes wide. “You saw him?”
“Yes.” Ky closed her eyes briefly, where one of the rotating scenes of disaster from this trip passed before her eyes. Skeldon’s face, as she just caught sight of him in her cabin before everything went black. Gary Tobai looking her in the eye, and then … not.
“How could you—watch—” Now he sounded disgusted, as if she were something contemptible. Anger stirred; Ky pushed it down.
“You’re welcome to come to his memorial service,” Ky said. “Day after tomorrow, the station chapel. A Modulan service.”
“Oh, I couldn’t,” Korash said. “I’ll be back on our ship by then. But how do you feel about it?”
“Horrible,” Ky said. “I keep thinking I should have done more to prevent it—more to keep them from getting systems access, from grabbing Gary. But there were a lot of them and few of us. If I’d known who was behind it, I’d have spaced them to start with and saved us all a lot of trouble.”
“Spaced—you wouldn’t really space anyone—!”
Ky looked at him, a nice decent older man who had never faced what she faced. She tried to soften her voice. “Actually I would, if necessary to save my ship. Mostly it’s not necessary.”
“That’s hard,” he said. His face was two shades paler; she could see the sheen of sweat on him. “That’s really hard.” He swallowed. “I suppose that’s the sort of thing you learned in the Academy.”
“Yes,” Ky said. It saved time trying to explain what couldn’t be explained.
“Things are different in the civilian world, you know,” he said.
“I know that,” Ky said. “But my first responsibility is still to my ship and crew, even under civilian legal codes.”
He had an odd expression, somewhere between curiosity and revulsion. “How did you … er … I mean … do you carry a … a weapon?”
“You want to know how I killed them, is that what you’re asking?”
He flushed, then; “I … I guess so.”
“I shot them with a pistol bow that one of my crew had—a target bow.”
“You did that before?”
“I practiced, once I realized that we might have trouble with our passengers. My crew member taught me how to use it. I suppose that shocks you …”
“I couldn’t shoot anyone,” he said firmly. “I just couldn’t.”
Her patience snapped. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing you’ve never needed to.” Before he could say anything else, she said, “You can tell Captain Furman—or I can contact him myself—I am going to get this ship repaired well enough to take my cargo to Belinta—myself—and he can consider himself free to return to his regular route. I will check and see if any of my crew wish to return with him, and I will prepare a message for my family. I’m assuming you came in by shuttle?”
“Er … yes.”
“Well, then. When does it leave or was it a charter?”
“A charter …”
“You can spend a couple of hours here?”
“Yes … but I have to let them know when I want to leave.”
“I’ll speak to the crew shortly; I’m sure they’ll want to stay for Gary’s memorial service, at least. So Furman can leave after that, if any of them want to go with him, or earlier if they don’t. I can have that answer for you in … say … three hours. I’m sure you’d enjoy that time more on the station than on a small ship like this …”
“Er … as you wish …”
“You have an implant, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Give me your number; I’ll contact you.”
At last he left, and gave her a vague sort of salute on his way out. Ky took a deep breath and then tabbed the intercom.
“All crew, come to the rec area, please. I have an announcement.”
A few minutes later, they were all there except for Beeah, still out on the station.
“Captain Furman, of the Katrine Lamont, wants me to agree to sell this ship for scrap here, take all of you and the cargo aboard his ship, and go back to Slotter Key via Belinta. I’m not going to do that; I’m going to repair the ship with the money Mackensee paid me, take my own cargo to Belinta, and pick up our cargo there, and go on our original route to Leonora and Lastway. However—” She paused. “While I don’t have direct orders from Vatta headquarters to do what Captain Furman says, I suspect that his report of my decision will generate some heat. Most of you are long-term Vatta employees. I will understand if you don’t want to be involved in a dispute between me and my family’s business. I will also understand if you don’t trust me as a captain, after the death of a crew member you all knew for a long tme. So I’m giving you the opportunity to transfer to the Kat if you want to. I’ll give you all an exemplary report for your records.”
“If we leave, what will you do for a crew?” Lee said. “We can’t just leave you out here alone …”
“There are always transients,” Ky said.
“Have you looked?” Quincy asked.
“Well … no. Not yet. But it’s up to you, really. I don’t want you staying out of some guilt thing.” She yawned; she couldn’t help it. “Sorry. I’m going to go get something to drink, give you all a little while to discuss it.”
“What about us?” Li asked. “We’re not Vatta employees, really …”
“Furman says he’ll take you at least a lot closer to Slotter Key, a mainline station,” Ky said. “Or you can hire on with me, if you’re willing to learn cargo work as well as your primary specialty. Talk to Quincy—she can tell you about Vatta, and about me.” Ky pushed back her chair and stood. She was seriously tired, the accumulated strain of the past days settling on her shoulders like a sack of wet sand.