Marque and Reprisal

by Elizabeth Moon

  Inside, Rafe lounged against the wall, straightening when he saw her; his expression remained ironic. Ky nodded at him without speaking and went to the desk.

  “I’m Captain Vatta—I understand you have been trying to reach me?”

  “Couldn’t get through,” the man said without looking up. When he did, his eyes widened. “You brought them—!”

  “It seemed wise,” Ky said. “Since my crew and I have been attacked onstation before and the Garda have refused to give us protection—”

  “You have too many enemies,” he said. “And so you hired mercs—”

  “It’s not illegal,” Ky said. “I would like to see my crewmembers, please, and find out what the problem seems to be.”

  “Problem is, that murdering ruffian you have in your crew just killed another two people—”

  Ky felt her brows go up. “I do not have murdering ruffians in my crew. If by another, you’re referring to the man I shot, that has already been adjudicated as self-defense, and the dead man was part of the gang that attacked me—”

  “Three of you people have killed someone on this station. I’d call that serious cause for concern. Most people make it through a lifetime without killing anyone.”

  “Most people aren’t attacked repeatedly by someone trying to kill them. Self-defense isn’t murder.”

  “There was no attack. He shot a poor old lady as lived in the neighborhood for forty years, thereabouts, and—”

  Ky’s heart sank.

  “I suppose you’ve done the forensic matching already,” Captain Pensig said, peering at the ceiling as if he found it interesting.

  “Well, no, but there’s no need. Nobody but him and that girl had any weapons. And she only had that pistol bow.”

  “And the second body?” Ky asked.

  “Dockworker. Only been here a month, but nothing against him.”

  “And the third?” Rafe asked from behind them. “Found the owner of the bloody footsteps yet?”

  “I told you before, there was no blood trail when we looked. If you’re one of this lot, I’m not surprised you lied about it.”

  “I think I’d better speak to your shift supervisor,” Ky said.

  “He’s busy . . . busy with that crew of yours,” the man said. “You can wait until he’s free. You seem to think you’re special . . .” His gaze went past Ky to the door. She turned to look; a lean man in Mackensee uniform with a lock case strode in; the escort moved smoothly aside and closed in after him.

  “Captain Pensig,” said the newcomer. “I got here as fast as I could.”

  “Thank you, Major,” Pensig said. “Captain Vatta, this is Major Grawn, our legal affairs officer.”

  “What seems to be the problem here?” Grawn asked.

  “The problem is, this Vatta crewman’s been in trouble over and over since she docked—” The clerk nodded at Ky. “One thing after another—illegal biologicals and now he’s killed at least two people—”

  “Is alleged to have killed two people,” Grawn said. “I believe this station operates under the General Code, does it not?”

  “Well, yes, but things are a little different out here . . .”

  Grawn cocked his head to the right. “Either you operate under the General Code, or you don’t. Which is it?”

  “The General Code . . . mostly . . .”

  “And that means that accused persons have the right to legal representation, including during interrogation, isn’t that right?”

  “I’ll have to check,” the clerk said, reaching for a button on his desk.

  “Go ahead,” Grawn said. “I’m sure you’ll find that’s the case, and when your officer in charge confirms that, tell him that legal representation is here.”

  “But you’re military and the murd—the accused—is civ. Her crewman.”

  “She’s retained our assistance,” Grawn said. “Her legal problems are our legal problems.”

  The clerk muttered into his equipment, then looked up. “All right. You can go back. She can’t, nor any of the rest of you.”

  Grawn didn’t move. “A ship captain is held legally responsible for crew behavior and damages to a station, under the General Code. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.” Very grudgingly.

  “Then Captain Vatta is also a party to the accusations, and has a legal right and duty, under the code, to ensure that her crew are being treated appropriately, and to have access to all pertinent information. She’s coming with me.”

  “I—oh, all right. But nobody else.” He got up to show the way.

  “No one else,” Grawn agreed. He nodded at Ky. “After you, Captain.”

  They passed a large office and two smaller ones. The corridor turned left, and she saw two doors, each with an armed guard outside. One opened as she approached, and a short, stout man in a business suit looked out.

  “If it isn’t Major Grawn,” he said with no enthusiasm.

  “Inspector Filgrim,” Grawn said, mirroring the lack of glee. “How nice.”

  “The last time you were here,” Filgrim said, “that was a mess.”

  “But not our mess,” Grawn said. “So I am in hope it is not our mess this time.”

  “Only if you make it yours,” Filgrim said. “Which I hear you have . . . frankly, were I you, I’d have been a little more wary of taking employment from a Vatta.” That with a sour look at Ky.

  “Oh? What do you have against Vattas?” Grawn said.

  “They have enemies. People don’t have enemies all over the galaxy for no reason. Probably been up to something for years and finally got found out.”

  “Until recently, have you had any complaints against Vatta ships or crews?”

  “Well . . . no. But that’s just because we didn’t realize—”

  “Or because Vatta’s enemies have nothing to do with Vatta’s wrongdoing, and are entirely self-motivated.”

  “Everyone’s guilty of something,” Filgrim muttered. “Never met a civ who wouldn’t lie—”

  “Or a law officer, either,” Grawn said. “Enough. You’re interrogating members of Captain Vatta’s crew without legal representation present. I am now here; I will be present for one, and Captain Vatta for the other.”

  “That’s—”

  “By the code,” Grawn said. “You have a male and a female in custody, right? I’ll sit in with the male, and Captain Vatta clearly should sit in with the female.”

  Filgrim looked as if he’d bitten into a sour fruit, but nodded, and opened the door wider. Ky got a glimpse of Jim, with a blackening eye and hunched shoulders, at a table inside. Then Filgrim nodded to the next door. “The girl’s in there. I haven’t gotten to her yet. You can go in.”

  Grawn nodded at Ky and she went into the next room. Mehar sat at another table, watched over by two guards.

  “Are you all right, Mehar?” Ky asked.

  “Yes, Captain. I’m sorry—”

  “We have legal assistance now,” Ky said, interrupting. “Major Grawn from the Mackensee Military Assistance Corporation. You will have a representative while you’re interrogated.”

  “I don’t know how it happened,” Mehar said. “We had just picked up some fruit, and we came around the end of the radiated display—”

  “You should wait until Major Grawn gets here,” Ky said, hoping she was right. “I’m really more interested in how you are.”

  “I wasn’t hurt. Jim fell down when the display was hit and fell on him.”

  “Display?”

  “Yes . . . they had a tower of cans, and something hit it, probably a solid slug, and it fell. Jim was right beside it, and the cans landed on him. I was far enough back, so I ducked, and then I heard the shots.”

  “I’m surprised they missed Jim,” Ky said. “If he was down and in plain sight.”

  “Whoever it was just shot at everything,” Mehar said. “The lights above me shattered. I heard lots of people screaming, and things breaking and falling.”

  “And yo
u—”

  “I hit the deck, Captain. I didn’t see anyone shooting at me, so I just lay there. Then the Garda arrived. They said we shot some people, but it wasn’t us—”

  “Did you see anyone?”

  “There were people in the store when we got there. Just . . . people. I didn’t really notice them, except for one of the quad humods. He—I think it was a he—didn’t need a basket. I watched him pick up plums and apricots and apples all at the same time and use the fourth hand to twist the bag-ties. We were supposed to hurry, Quincy’d said, so we just picked out the fruit and went on—”

  The door opened. “Ah,” Major Grawn said. “Captain Vatta—this is Mehar Mehaar?”

  “Right,” Ky said. She glanced at Mehar. “This is Major Grawn, of Mackensee; he’s their legal officer.”

  Major Grawn came in and sat down; Filgrim followed, looking even more sour than before.

  “Mehar, have you given a statement?”

  “I—I tried, sir.”

  “That’s my job,” Filgrim said.

  “Well, then, get to it,” Major Grawn said. “But try sticking to evidence this time.”

  “I—all right, Ms. Mehaar, what’s your version of this.”

  Mehar, with nervous glances at Ky and Filgrim, told how she and Jim had been sent to buy refreshments and gone to the nearest grocer’s, where the trouble landed on them.

  “Why did you start shooting at everything?” Filgrim asked.

  Grawn snorted. “Inspector—you’re making rash assumptions.” He turned to Mehar. “Did you fire your weapon? Did Jim?”

  “No, sir! I tried to tell them that—”

  “Did you see who was shooting?”

  “No, sir. I never saw anyone with a weapon, but things were crashing down, the lights blinking, and people screaming—”

  “You never shot anyone?” Filgrim was clearly dubious. “Which gun was yours?”

  “Gun, sir? I didn’t have one. I had the pistol bow, but no bolts loaded. They’re in that belt they took off me when they brought us in. Jim had a gun, but he didn’t have time to get it out before stuff fell on him.” She looked at Ky. “I tried to tell them he hadn’t fired, but they didn’t listen to me.”

  “Two people are dead, Mehar,” Ky said. “They had to consider that.”

  “I assume the store had a vidscan going,” Grawn said. “Have you reviewed it? Or checked the weapons for discharge?”

  “No,” Filgrim said.

  “Well, that seems to be a good first step . . . not that I’m trying to teach you your business, but Captain Vatta was on the point of departure and I believe had already signed on to the departure queue. If these people are not guilty, then here’s a way to establish that quickly.”

  Filgrim scowled, but agreed to review the store’s vidscan with them. There on the screen both vidscans played in synchrony: the left aisle and part of the middle; the right aisle and the rest of the middle. Jim and Mehar, heading down the left, pausing to pick up fruit from this bin and that, then turning, coming up the middle aisle as if to head toward the bakery . . . and then, as Mehar had said, shots, broken lights—

  “You see,” Grawn said, pointing. “They were on the far side of this set of display racks when it started and the old woman went down—”

  “They could have—”

  “There are muzzle flashes back there.” Grawn pointed again. Filgrim boosted the IR sensitivity and the flashes shone bright, well away from Mehar and Jim. “They’ve got chameleon gear on—look at those blurry places . . .”

  Ky spotted four, altogether, four shimmery blurs. All emitted bursts of heat and light. Filgrim ran the scan backward and forward several times. Now it was clear that four customers entering just after Jim and Mehar had suddenly blurred, the blurs moving swiftly past those two, to set up across the far end of the store.

  “So it wasn’t them at all,” Ky said.

  “I suppose not,” Filgrim said. Clearly he wished it had been.

  “They were waiting for your crewmembers, Captain Vatta,” Grawn said. “For anyone coming out of your ship. Whether to kill them or simply cause you trouble, I don’t know. But the sooner you get offstation, the better.”

  “Not without my crew,” Ky said.

  “I can release them, if you’re really going,” Filgrim said. “This may not be your fault, exactly, but your presence certainly has caused trouble.”

  “We’re going,” Ky said. “Though I don’t like being blamed for something I didn’t start.”

  “We have an escort to take Captain Vatta and her crew back to the ship safely,” Grawn said. “So we will not need to call on your forces.”

  “I don’t have spare men anyway,” Filgrim said. “Fine, then. Go.” He waved his hand. “All you ever bring is trouble anyway, you traders.”

  Ky opened her mouth to say something, but Grawn shook his head at her, and she nodded instead. “I hope you have no more trouble,” she said.

  CHAPTER

  FIFTEEN

  Nothing disturbed their passage to the dock; Ky arrived just as the defensive suite was being delivered by Mackensee personnel.

  “Jim, go let the medbox check you out; Mehar, stand by for the moment.” Jim, walking a little unsteadily, wandered up the access and into the ship, following the squad with the cartons and lifter.

  “Any other supplies to come aboard?” asked Lt. Commander Johannson.

  Ky looked at the status board just inside the docking tube. “No—we could squeeze on another five days’ rations, but that’s about it. We’ll undock within the hour. Is that fast enough?”

  “I hope so.” He tapped the bulge in front of his ear. “Our people report unusual external activity—repair bugs, that kind of thing. Not right here, but enough of them that Traffic Control is expressing annoyance. I’d like you a solid ten kilometers offstation.”

  Ky tapped her handcom. “Quincy—how soon can we undock?”

  “Without blowing seals? We’ve got a place in the queue in fifty-eight minutes, with the tug Missy Mae. Insystem’s ready to warm up. Station seemed glad to have us going . . .”

  “There’s a concern,” Ky said. “Ask Station if anyone else is in our way if we’re a little quicker; I’m on my way to the bridge. Bring the insystem drive to standby.” She turned to Johannson. “I’ll see what I can do—our slot is fifty-seven minutes.”

  “Right.” He signaled to the Mackensee NCO in charge of the loading group. “We’ll get out of your way, but watch the area.” The squad that had delivered the packages came out the hatch on the double.

  Ky looked at Martin, who was standing nearby. “Let’s start buttoning up, then.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  On her way to the bridge, Ky felt her skin tightening; she could imagine one or more of the little one-person repair scooters easing up to the hull, planting mines. Her ears registered the pressure fluctuation as the hatch sealed. She passed the medbox alcove; Jim sat hunched over the diagnostic module, holding something to his face that she hoped would take care of his black eyes. Stella, in the galley, turned; Ky shook her head and went on to the bridge. Lee was talking to the station.

  “—We’re small. We’ve undocked without a tug before.”

  The face in the display had a sour look. “And we’ve had ships undock without a tug that put us at risk with reaction—”

  “You won’t feel a thing,” Lee said.

  “That’s what they all say,” the duty officer said. “Just a little squirt, that’s all, and we end up having to expend fuel to counter the rotational effects . . .”

  “Well, if the tug can hurry it up—”

  “They can’t. There’s a traffic jam up on Ring Five; some idiot kids decided to hold some kind of rally in repair scooters. Tug would have to risk collisions to come now. I don’t see why you can’t wait.”

  Icy tingles ran down Ky’s spine. Someone wanted them delayed, still onstation when something went wrong.

  “Captain Vatta here,”
she said, silencing Lee, who had his mouth open to reply. “We have received a credible threat, involving those same repair scooters. What’s current traffic status on this ring?”

  “Uh . . . there are a couple of nonscheduled scooters, probably just those kids—coming around Dock Four-B.”

  A sector away. What was the maximum acceleration on those scooters? The only external scans she had were focal scans of a few hull locations, not wide-area.

  “Sorry,” she said. “We’re departing now; we believe that those scooters may intend to plant mines on our hull.”

  “But they’re just kids—”

  “Maybe,” Ky said. To Lee, she said, “Shut down all external access, Lee.” To the duty officer, “We’re shutting off externals; we’ll be pulling out as soon as the boards go green. Slowly, I promise.”

  “You Vatta . . . ,” the man said. “If it weren’t for you—”

  “I didn’t start this,” Ky said.

  “Air’s clear. Water’s clear. External com’s clear—”

  “Close curtain,” Ky said. Unlike their emergency undock from Sabine Prime, she was not going to cause any more damage than she could help. The ship, external attachments retracted, lay in the docking bay with no more physical connection to the station.

  “Confirm curtain sealed,” the duty officer said. “Formal clearance . . .”

  “Take us out, Lee,” Ky said.

  “Maneuvering,” he said. The deck didn’t so much as quiver, but the instruments showed their relative motion. Ky said nothing. Again unlike their earlier emergency undock, they weren’t using the insystem drive, but the less powerful attitude controls. Ky switched on nearscan as soon as the nodes had cleared the station’s blanketing structure . . .

  “There they are,” she said. Two tiny dots, just showing around the curve of the station. Their projected course took them directly to what had been Gary Tobai’s docking bay . . . as she watched, they angled outward.

  “We’re not clear yet, Captain,” Lee said. His fingers twitched on the controls. One meter per second . . . and the acceleration was only 0.001 meter per.

  “Insystem,” Ky said.

  “Insystem hot,” Quincy said.

  “We’re too close—we could give ’em a wobble,” Lee said.