Cold Welcome

^{CHAPTER FIFTEEN}

Rafe Dunbarger arrived at Cascadia’s main station from Nexus in one of his fake personas, using different temporary DNA mods. He had his tools, his weapons, and the skills that came to him as easily as ever. And he had Teague, one of Gary’s men who—as Gary put it—could use a vacation for a good six months to a year, but was reliable in any situation Rafe might fall into.

Teague had traveled separately, in the character of a spacer hoping to sign on with Vatta, Ltd., and Rafe, in business class, did not see him during the voyage.

“ ’Scuse me, sir,” he heard and turned from the tagger dispenser to see Teague’s long, bony face arranged in an expression of slightly worried confusion.

“Yes?” Rafe said. His Cascadian accent made that word plummy and arrogant.

“Edvard Simeon Teague, sir, citizen of Nexus Two. I was wondering, sir, if you knew how to find a business address here?” Teague’s accent was pure backcountry Nexus II.

“This machine,” Rafe said. “It dispenses direction tags that will ensure you reach your proper destination. Do you require assistance in using it? It would be my pleasure. Hilarion Bancroft, of Mountain Home.”

“I wanna get to those Vatta people, Ser Bancroft,” Teague said. “Maybe getta ship? Gotta Class Two license.”

“Vatta Transport, you mean?” Rafe asked. “As it happens, Ser Teague, that is where I am going. I want to book passage to Slotter Key, and I am informed that no other line has frequent service.”

“They take passengers?”

“I am informed they do, but a limited number per trip as they primarily ship freight.”

“May I come with you, then?”

“Certainly.” Rafe inclined his head and gave the hand wave of a polite Cascadian, then led the way in obedience to the tagger directions.

Pertinent parts of this conversation had been prearranged as confirmation of identity. As they made their way through the curious architecture of Cascadia Station toward the branch where Vatta, Ltd., now had its Cascadian headquarters, Rafe wondered if he would have any trouble with whoever ran the office while Stella was on Slotter Key. Rumor in the business news had it that Vatta might well abandon the Cascadian base except as a local office to service Vatta ships on that route, once more headquartered at Slotter Key. And would Stella still be in charge here, or would another, more local, Vatta take her place?

In his last conversation with Stella, the year before, they had not discussed Vatta’s future plans, only a new order for shipboard ansibles that Rafe wanted for ISC’s remaining fleet. At that time she had expanded Vatta’s offices on Cascadia Station, clearly not anticipating a move back to Slotter Key. And yet she had gone there, and stayed there long enough to spark rumors of a move. Rafe knew how unreliable those could be.

But at least her being there meant his appearing in the Vatta booking office in disguise should not cause any problems. Her subordinates would know him only by his use-name. And Stella would not have the opportunity to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing, running off to Slotter Key. He wasn’t ready to answer that question for anyone, least of all himself.

The Vatta insignia, displayed boldly on the entrance to the correct branch, stood proud above the other two labels for that branch. VT Communications Technologies, he knew, was the name of a spin-off from Vatta proper, the outcome of young Toby Vatta’s genius while he was Stella’s ward. Stella had been adamant that Rafe not offer Toby a job. The near end of the branch had another firm, Brindisi Logistic Solutions, and a cluster of service outlets—cafés, a pharmacy, a grocery—and then the wall color changed to Vatta colors: blue below, cream above, with a red stripe between them.

Vatta Passenger Services was across the corridor from Vatta Freight Services. Beside each entrance, a schedule of arrivals and departures, with openings marked in red. The freight schedule, Rafe noted, had no red openings on either the Vatta ship in dock or the next to arrive. The passenger schedule, however, had several openings. One required a change of ship at Allray; the other, two changes of ship, at New Balestra and then at Variance.

“Allray’s the quicker route,” Teague commented.

“I would have to stay in persona,” Rafe said after a quick look up and down the corridor, empty at the moment. Teague shot him a glance. “I left Allray in a bit of a hurry a few years back.” Being shot at, in fact, with Stella and Toby. He had liked Allray and his quiet life there, easiest of his years as a remittance man.

“Will they question your preferring the longer route?” Teague lounged against the wall.

“A moment.” Rafe accessed the station database. If he switched personas to a scholar doing research, if he could find relevant listings… Ky had regaled him with more military history than he’d really wanted to know. Ah: if he’d had an interest in military history, a museum on New Balestra held the only remaining complete set of Paruts and Ghoneh’s Early Colonial Wars of the First-Millennium Expansion from Varkan. A university library on Slotter Key had an almost-complete printing of a different edition (missing volumes 23 and 28). It would have to do.

“Scholarly research,” he said to Teague. “Military history of first-millennium colonial wars.”

“So you’re a professor?”

“I’m a chameleon,” Rafe said. “As Gary probably told you.”

“That wasn’t exactly the term he used,” Teague said.

“That does not surprise me,” Rafe said in his prissiest voice. “Was it unprintable snake or unprintable idiot?”

“Both,” Teague said, with the first hint of humor Rafe had heard from him. Rafe led the way inside the Passenger Services office.

At the desk Rafe handed over his identification papers to a clerk, who called up the arrival data and nodded. “You’ve just arrived from Nexus Two—your final destination is Slotter Key—but, Ser Bancroft, I see you’ve chosen a route that is less direct.”

“Ah, let me explain.” Rafe put on the enthusiasm of an amateur scholar. “There is, as you see, a twenty-eight-hour delay in New Balestra, and so I will have time to visit the Decan Museum. Did you know they have the only known complete set of Paruts and Ghoneh’s Early Colonial Wars of the First-Millennium Expansion from Varkan? Every single volume, complete—it’s the fourth edition, too. On Nexus there is only half the volumes, and I shouldn’t even say volumes, because they’re apparently printouts that a historian made for personal use at least a century ago. Now, Slotter Key has all but two volumes of the second edition, in the Arvene University library’s special collection—”

“You’re a historian, Ser Bancroft?”

“Oh, no,” Rafe said. “Or only in a small way. I spend my vacations, though, pursuing my historical interests. If one visits these smaller museums and archives personally, one is often able to obtain access to materials by ansible later.”

The clerk had lost interest, and was looking at the booking screen on his desk. “Well, Ser Bancroft, we have a single compartment, Class A, or a double, Class B. Vatta, as you may know, is primarily a merchant shipping company; our passenger accommodations are graded three-star by Travelers Express, but I will tell you frankly they are not the equal of luxury passenger liners. You can order in supplementary items, including food.” The clerk nodded to the display facing Rafe; it filled with lists of add-on luxuries. He had just marked “Menu Upgrade 2” (all beverages included) and “Bedding Upgrade 1” (more pillows) when a stir by the entrance caught the clerk’s attention.

“Sera Vatta! Welcome back!” The clerk jumped up and bowed.

Rafe turned his face a little away, like a polite customer who would not stare at everyone who came in. Sera Vatta wasn’t supposed to be here. She was supposed to be still on Slotter Key. There was no way she could get from Slotter Key to Cascadia in the time it had taken him to come from Nexus—

She was now at Rafe’s shoulder, speaking to the clerk. “Good day, Hani. I’m glad to be home, indeed. Staff meeting at 1430.” Stella’s voice, no doubt about it. She turned to Rafe; he thought he saw just the flicker of recognition in her eyes before she spoke. “Ser…” She glanced down at the information on the screen, “Ser Bancroft. I hope Hani is taking good care of your reservation. Perhaps you will take tea with me when it is complete.”

“He is being most helpful,” Rafe said, in his plummiest voice, hoping against hope that she had not seen through his disguise. She had, of course, seen the destination. “Very kind. I do not know if there would be time, Sera, to accept your kind invitation—”

“But Ser Bancroft,” Hani said. “Allow me to introduce you. This is Sera Vatta, our CEO. And the ship on which you have reservations does not depart until tomorrow; there is ample time.”

He was sunk. Cascadian manners demanded he accept her invitation. And there was no way he could sit and chat politely over tea with Stella, even if she had not yet recognized him, without that recognition coming.

“My pardons, Sera Vatta,” he said, holding on to his persona with full attention. “It was not my intent to be discourteous, only—”

“No offense has been taken, Ser Bancroft,” she said. The glint in her eye was now obvious, but no shadow of it touched her face or her voice. “I wished only to assure you that although passenger service is not our main mode of operation, we do care greatly about the comfort and safety of those who choose to travel with us. And is this your associate, Ser… um…”

“Teague,” Teague said.

“My research assistant,” Rafe said. “On my vacations, I do research in history—early colonial military history, to be precise.”

“How interesting,” Stella said, in a tone that conveyed nothing but polite concern for a guest’s welfare. “Perhaps Ser Teague can complete your reservations while you and I have tea. Hani, should any difficulty arise, please just forward it to my desk.” To Rafe she said, “Our passenger reservations, unlike our freight reservations, are fully refundable in case some circumstance requires your presence elsewhere.”

“Thank you, Sera Vatta,” Rafe said. He was doomed. He was not going to get on that ship without Stella knowing everything about his intent. “Ser Teague,” he said, “do feel free to choose upgrades to menu and conveniences, if you wish.”

“To what limit, Ser Bancroft?”

This was ridiculous, this was becoming a farce. Why couldn’t Stella have shown up an hour later? For that matter, why hadn’t Stella stayed on Slotter Key? “Don’t go overboard, Ser Teague,” he said, hoping his frustration at the whole situation sounded like the fussy, pedantic businessman-cum-scholar he was pretending to be. Teague’s bland dip of the head in response was the last straw. He turned to Stella.

“Sera Vatta, I am at your service.”

“Just this way,” she said. All across the broad front office of Vatta, Ltd., her employees stood, bowed, spoke to her, and Stella greeted them all by name before she led him through an opening into an office occupied by three assistants at desks, and then through a closed door into her own. She waved him to a seat, sat down herself, touched her desk, and said “Tea and pastries, please, Gillian.” Then she looked at Rafe, opened a drawer in the credenza behind her, took out a security cylinder, and placed it on the desk between them.

“Is this satisfactory, Ser Bancroft?”

He leaned a bit to see the blinking light on one end of the cylinder. “Yes, Sera Vatta, more than satisfactory. One is grateful for your kindness.”

“I am curious,” she said. “From the little I’ve seen of your route, on the screen display out there, you seem to consider… um… Slotter Key as your ultimate destination, but you are not taking a direct route there. Research at intermediate points?”

“Yes, Sera.” He launched into the explanation he’d given the clerk until the tea and pastries arrived and the person pushing the cart had left the room.

Stella dropped her slightly bored expression. “Rafe, what do you think you can accomplish by going to Slotter Key?”

“Finding Ky and saving her life,” he said.

“You can’t,” she said. “She’s dead. Shuttle went down in the ocean—a very cold ocean—with winter coming on. It’s twenty-eight days now. No communications at all. No transponders, no radio, no skullphone linkage, nothing.” Tears glittered in her eyes. “You have to—we had to—accept it. I know you loved her—”

“Love. Present tense. And she’s not dead. We have a—a link, a bond. I would know if she was dead.”

“That’s wishful thinking, Rafe. Emotional thinking. But it’s no use.”

“I will not believe that until I find her dead body myself,” Rafe said. “I don’t just hope she’s alive. I know she’s alive.”

Stella’s expression changed. “How?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“If you want me to believe you, you must tell me. Otherwise I’m going to find ways to delay you, keep you away from Slotter Key—the last thing Aunt Grace and my mother need right now is a lovesick loose cannon crashing into their lives.”

“It’s not illegal to travel to Slotter Key,” Rafe said. “You can’t really stop me, even if you keep me off Vatta ships. You can only delay me, and that delay, Stella, could mean Ky’s death. Why didn’t you want me to come as soon as you heard?”

She ticked off items on her fingers. “Lovesick. Loose cannon. Fully occupied in running ISC, which is what you should be doing right now. Rogue at a level above—no, below—loose cannon. Totally untrained for locating or rescuing someone adrift in a lifeboat on a cold ocean—”

“Not entirely,” Rafe said. “I located and rescued my family, who had been abducted and were held on a cold plateau—”

“With considerable help,” Stella said. “Are you claiming Teague is your help this time?”

“Yes. From the same source. The task is different and I am assuming your aunt, the Rector of Defense, can deploy assets equivalent to those I had hired before.”

She sat back, frowning slightly. “You really are convinced she’s still alive, from something other than your personal feelings?”

“Yes.”

“But you won’t tell me what… so I assume it has something to do with a communications link that you and Ky share, that no one is supposed to know about—”

Rafe said nothing, though she stared at him for over a minute. A very long minute. Finally, she nodded.

“Well, then. I think Ser Bancroft needs to change his itinerary. I think it would be wise to go straight to Slotter Key, and visit—what was it, some obscure museum?”

“Yes.”

“On the way back, if it’s still of interest. I suspect, Ser Bancroft, that your reluctance to take the more direct route has to do with something you did at Allray, am I right?”

“Possibly,” Rafe said. She knew perfectly well what he’d done there. She’d been there.

“I have a Vatta courier onstation right now, refueling and resupplying for another mission. That’s how I came here. It is fast, long-range, but not as comfortable as the passenger quarters on our freighters. It would be cramped for you and Ser Teague.”

“How long?”

“How urgent is secrecy? If your disguise must remain undiscovered, then you need to miss that departure tomorrow for some plausible reason—no—let me think. A transfer—no, that won’t work, either. We need to discover a family relationship, Ser Bancroft. Then I could discover you as a family member and offer you the use of a courier, to give you more time for research.”

“You’re now known to be Osman Vatta’s daughter. What if I were one of his sons?”

Her brows went up. “You aren’t, are you?”

“No,” Rafe said. “I’ve seen my own gene scan many times, and that of my parents and Penny. I’m all theirs. But as Bancroft—”

“Fine. We’ll do it that way. A bit shady but it could be taken that I just want you far away from me—even that I’m sending you to Aunt Grace to be checked out for, um, rogue behavior.”

“Of which, in my checkered past, there’s plenty. All right, beautiful lady, now that we’re alone I reveal to you that I am the natural son of the evil Osman Vatta, reared in a foster home and discovering my real identity only by accident. Shocked and horrified, I became fascinated by Vatta family events, and now I am shivering in anticipation of what you might say in return.”

“Shivering in anticipation—a bit over the top, Rafe, don’t you think?”

“I’m not Rafe, I’m Hilarion Bancroft—”

“Hilarion? Also over the top. Oh, well. You are Osman’s son after all, and he was over the top. I am naturally startled, and then appalled, to think that you might have been stalking me, so the best thing to do is stuff you into a courier—you might want to lose the fat suit before that—and send you to Aunt Grace, who will wrap you in deepest darkest secrecy and force you to give up whatever vile plans you had made.”

“They aren’t vile,” Rafe said.

“Oh, I think they are,” Stella said. “And meanwhile it has been strongly suggested to you that you and Ser Teague stay with me—Vatta Security feeling safer that way—in a friendly sort of house arrest. It will take the courier almost two days to be ready, but less than half the time of any other ship to get to Slotter Key.”

“What do you use for couriers, fairy dust?”

“Couriers are always faster, Rafe, you know that. But Toby’s come up with something.”

“Which you won’t tell me about.”

“Trade secret,” Stella said. “Just like yours.”

For the first time since he’d heard about Ky’s shuttle going down, Rafe laughed. “My God, you’re a smart woman,” he said.

Stella was laughing, too. “Yes. We’re both smart. And that, if anything, might help Ky, if she’s still alive, which is why I’m going along with this. My young cousin is a pain sometimes, but I love her anyway. So now, I think, we begin the next charade you and I are about to be involved in. I will call my security staff in, and you and Ser Teague will spend a pleasant night, maybe two, in my guest quarters. Will you need to visit anything else onstation?”

“I should visit Crown & Spears,” Rafe said, “or—I was planning to. Set up a transfer to my next destination. But as it is—”

“We would prefer you not have a contact here besides Vatta,” Stella said, making her face prim.

“Then I will be pleased to accept your hospitality,” Rafe said. “Shall I pour us tea now?”

“I will,” Stella said. She poured two cups of tea, handed him one, and put two pastries on a plate for him. “Eat fast.”

She drank half her cup of tea while Rafe allowed crumbs to find their way down the front of his suit, and then touched a button on her desk. In moments, two serious-looking men in a uniform he hadn’t seen before appeared at the door. They eyed him with disfavor.

“This is Ser Bancroft,” Stella said. “I find that he is a relative of sorts—a natural son of my natural father from a different mother. He and his research assistant, Ser Teague, will be staying with me until Morningstar is ready for another trip, and then they’ll be passengers to Slotter Key. He has reason to visit my aunt Grace.”

“Yes, Sera.” Their looks became colder.

“He is a guest; he has done nothing—” A tiny pause suggested an unspoken yet. “—to warrant anything but a pleasant visit in the guest suite. I believe, however, that the reservations he intended to make on Allie Verger may have progressed to the point of payment; those reservations should be canceled and a refund applied to the paying account. Perhaps one of you would ask his travel companion Ser Teague to step this way so the new arrangements can be explained to him.”

“At once, Sera,” said one of the men. The other moved to stand behind Rafe’s chair. Rafe took another pastry.

Teague, when he entered the office, had the deliberately blank look that Rafe recognized as “criminal playing dumb.” Rafe spoke up at once.

“I told Sera Vatta that I was related to her,” he said. “You know, this is the first time I’ve told someone important that I’m also one of that criminal’s children, but if a rich, beautiful woman can admit it in public, then why not? And I want people to know we’re not all bad—we didn’t inherit criminal tendencies or anything like that.”

Teague’s expression congealed further. He must be wondering what Rafe was up to. He said “Yes, Ser Bancroft.”

“And Sera Vatta very kindly offered me the use of a Vatta courier that can get us to Slotter Key quickly, leaving plenty of time on the return trip to visit that other archive. She’s even going to give me a letter of introduction to her aunt, in Slotter Key’s Defense Department, so I’ll be able to do research in their archives. We’re staying with her until the courier’s ready to leave.”

“Yes, Ser Bancroft. Will you be visiting the bank, though? I thought you wanted to set up accounts at intermediate destinations and Slotter Key.”

Rafe made a dismissive movement with one hand and grabbed another pastry with the other. “I’m sure Sera Vatta can arrange that for us—can’t you, Sera Vatta?”

“Certainly,” Stella said. “There’s a terminal here in our office. We can have your luggage transferred, as well. And what would you like for dinner this evening? Just let my cook know, and I’m sure we can accommodate any dietary restrictions.”

Rafe glanced down at the crumbs on his suit. “I’m not fussy, Sera. I like food.”

“I can’t eat melons,” Teague said. “But that’s all.”

A key phrase Rafe had to answer. “Melons are fine with me,” he said. “But I don’t insist on them.” That should keep Teague from doing whatever Teague was thinking of.

“The cook will bear that in mind.” Stella glanced at her security. “I think these gentlemen would be more comfortable in the guest suite than in my office.” She smiled at Rafe. “Don’t you, Ser Bancroft?”

“Yes, Sera, whatever’s convenient.” To the security man now near Teague he said, “I can’t believe I met my real sister—well, half sister—such a coincidence that she happened to come in while I was in the office. I hadn’t even dared hope—”

“I will dine with you later,” Stella said with a nod to the others. Rafe stood, brushing the crumbs off himself.

“Thank you very much, Sera,” he said. “You’ve been most gracious. I wish—I wish we’d known each other sooner.”

He went out when one of the men gestured for him to go first and then walked beside him as he started, still brushing at his suit, across the outer office. Teague followed; the second security man delayed long enough to ask Stella, “Leech, or really dangerous?”

He heard her laugh and say, “Harmless, I think, but Aunt Grace will sort him out if he’s not.”

The door closed. Rafe and Teague went peacefully along with their escort, out the entrance to Vatta, Ltd., back down the branch, and then along one passage after another until they arrived at Stella’s residence.

Rafe approved of the level of security: their escorts were, he thought, properly alert and well armed, and the servant who opened the door of Stella’s apartment was no mere butler. The guest suite, essentially another complete apartment, had no direct exit to the outside except an emergency hatch, heavily alarmed and marked with a big red sign: EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY.

“I’m Dosi Farbur,” one of the men said. “I’ll be outside if you need anything. Ron here will let the rest of the staff know you’re here, and the cook will be contacting you shortly, if she doesn’t come herself, to learn about your needs. Then he’s going to arrange your luggage. All outgoing calls go through the house board; I believe Sera Vatta feels that you should avoid making your presence here known. Many of her guests have a need for discretion.”

“Yes, Ser Farbur,” Rafe said. “I understand. I’m sure we will be quite comfortable. Is there a vidscreen? There’s a sports match I wanted to watch.”

“Through there.” Farbur nodded toward a door on the left. “Also a small library of both informational and entertainment cubes and a cube reader that displays on the large screen. All local news, sports, and entertainment channels are available.”

“Thank you,” Rafe said.

The study included a small bar at one end where a pitcher of ice water, a tray with glasses, and a plate of pastries had already been set out. When Rafe opened the little cooler below the counter, he found a selection of wines and spirits.

“This is—I’ve never been in a place like this,” Teague said. He glanced around.

“Sera Vatta is, I believe, a very wealthy woman,” Rafe said, for the sensors he knew would be observing them. “I have seen such luxury only on entertainment cubes, or in high-class hostels when at conventions. We will certainly be comfortable here.”

“I wonder what the bedroom is like,” Teague said. Rafe followed him out into the sitting room. There were three bedrooms, all with separate bathrooms. Teague stared for a moment at the plumbing fixtures, then shook his head. “You read about things like this,” he said. “But seeing it… I suppose you know what it all does.”

“Yes. On a station like this, where recycling every drop matters more, some of it’s involved with that. This mysterious coil here, for instance. And this extra pipe. Don’t worry about it; the actual function, from the user end, is standard.”

“But this thing?” A nozzle on a long flexible pipe.

“Vacuum, for cleaning staff. We could use it, if we were being especially tidy guests. It sucks up every drop of water or condensation—on the bath compartment walls—and sends it to primary decontam before shipping it off to the station’s own water treatment facility.”

“They recycle all the water?” Teague looked pale.

“Every drop. Teague, is this your first extended period in space?”

“Yes—I was born, raised, and worked all my life on Nexus.”

“Every space-based facility depends on complete recycling. So do spaceships. Don’t think too much about it.”

“Right.” Teague’s color returned to normal.

“Which bedroom do you want?”

“Uh—I don’t know.”

“I’m taking the green one, then. I’m going to lie down until our luggage arrives—or the cook—whichever comes first.”

That evening, Teague elected to eat in the guest suite, ostensibly to repack their luggage but actually, Rafe suspected, to make sure none of whatever equipment he’d packed had disappeared. Rafe accepted Stella’s invitation to dine with her. Stella had a table set in her tiny garden, made to look larger than it was with a combination of vidscreens around the margin and careful planting.

“Secure,” Stella said. “We can talk.”

But first, they ate her cook’s excellent dinner while Rafe tried to think what he was going to tell her that he hadn’t already.

“Your certainty,” Stella said immediately after swallowing her last bite of the crème brûlée. “Rafe, I understand you don’t want to tell me, but I need to know something.”

He’d been afraid of this.

“Stella, it’s a danger to anyone who knows that it exists. Worse than shipboard ansibles. It’s a danger to anyone who has it. I must not say more; I don’t want you in danger, too.”

“Ky’s in danger from knowing about it—or does she have it?”

“She has it. And yes, she’s in danger from that, although she’s in danger for so many other reasons it hardly adds to the total. But you, Stella, are the rock Vatta depends on now. And you are more secure than someone who goes out into space and attacks warships, like Ky.”

“I certainly hope so,” Stella said. “Are you and Ky the only ones who know?”

“Unfortunately not. My sister Penny found out by accident, during the late unpleasantness. Observed me with it. But she’s not a blabber and no one else knows she knows.”

“They might infer—”

“Yes, enemies might, if they knew about it. And someone else knew before all that, when I first got back to Nexus. No one should have known, but—”

“The inventor?”

“Maybe. Or someone who tortured the information out of the inventor. I have no clue; I’d been away too long. The thing is, there may still be people who know I have it. I have no idea where they might be. Penny’s the only other person who knows Ky has one.”

“I see. Aunt Grace is going to want to know. And she’s a lot more persuasive than I am. With more power behind her.”

“Perhaps. We’ll see. Stella, I really appreciate what you’re doing. I believe I’ll know for certain what I’m reasonably sure of now, once I get to Slotter Key and can tune the local ansible…”

“You’re going to do what?”

“News reports suggest to me that Slotter Key’s ansible may still not be fully functional. I can fix that. You know I can.”

“But how will that find Ky?”

Rafe just looked at her. Stella glared, but then shrugged. “All right. Don’t tell me. Here’s what I’ve arranged. You and Teague, whoever he really is—”

“You know what I know about Teague, except that Gary said they were working a criminal hostage situation and apparently the bad guys got into one of Gary’s computer systems. A mole he hadn’t spotted; the mole’s dead, Teague killed him, so Teague’s a marked man. They got his partner. I have a year of his services in return for giving him new biomarkers and ID; the stuff’s already working, but will take another one to two years to complete.”

“That’s rather a lot under except. I suppose he’s already looking less like his old self?”

“Yes, much less like his old self. Biomarkers on scans are quite different, but the rest is, as you may know, limited by the rate of cell replacement. He did have one surgery four months ago to change the shape of his jaw. I see a difference in skin tone—he will be distinctly less brown and more yellow when he’s finished—but it’s not nearly enough yet to make him safe on Nexus.”

She blinked. “So—I could choose to become plain—even ugly—”

“Do you want to?”

“No. I don’t think so. There’s still a usefulness in what I have. But it’s tempting to become someone completely other, at least for a while.”

“The kind of treatment Teague’s getting isn’t for a while.”

“I understand. But back to your travels. The courier crews have been completely checked out, gene scans and all. You will travel more comfortably without your add-ons, but it’s up to you. The facilities are, as I said, cramped and not overly comfortable, especially for two. This crew’s been briefed, though not to your real identity. They won’t ask; they don’t want to know, even if they figure it out.”

“Good. But I think I should arrive at Slotter Key in my persona.”

“Yes. And you should leave here wearing it; Cascadia’s tightened its exit protocols. They won’t mind you leaving by Vatta courier, but you must check out with them or we’ll all be in trouble.”

“So—when, exactly, are we leaving?”

“Tomorrow evening, local time. The courier’s on the schedule for a 2300 departure; you’ll need to go through exit procedures by 2230. I’ll provide an escort at 2130 to continue the cover story. The deposit money for the other reservation is already in your account on Slotter Key.”

“My account… how did you do that?”

She gave him the look he’d given her years before, and the same answer. “I have connections. Now: no one but crew will know you’re on our courier; when I hear from them that they’ve made the Slotter Key downjump, I’ll call Grace.”

Alone in the bedroom he’d chosen, Rafe took off the accoutrements that made him look fifty kilos heavier and ten years or more older. He cleaned and hung up the various pads and their attachments, then took out the cable for his cranial ansible. Should he? Probably not. But he plugged in the cable to the power outlet anyway. After that difficulty during the war, he had made an addition to it that could convert any standard line power to the ansible’s power requirement and not burn out his brain.

As he had once a day since he found out about Ky’s situation, he plugged in. And there it was: the peculiar smell that told him he had an ansible-to-ansible connection with another just like his… and that could only be hers. He could not communicate with her; the signal was too weak. But she was still alive. He closed his eyes, concentrating. Was it weaker than it had been? Was she dying, right then?

He disconnected, coiled the cable without looking at it, and returned it to the case. He snapped the lock and tried to put Ky and her problems out of his mind.

The next day was one long stretch of boredom, despite the books, the vids, the games. Stella was away in her office. The cook fixed them breakfast, lunch, afternoon tea. Teague slept a lot; Rafe knew the treatment was tiring for him. By the time Stella came back to the apartment, it was almost time to leave. He and Teague were both ready. After a quick supper, their guards led them back toward the main Vatta docks, where a departure desk staffed by two Cascadian officers waited. Stella stayed behind.