"Moon, Elizabeth - Vatta 2 - Marque And Reprisal V5" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moon Elizabeth)

“I don’t know how we’re going to explain . . . ,” the voice said.
“You’ll figure something out.” Gammis cut off the connection.
“Will they behave?” his second in command asked. “Or will they leak?”
“They’ll leak in time,” Gammis said. “Vatta’s got supporters on their own world. But they have no way to spread the word. They don’t realize it yet . . .” He chuckled, and his second in command grinned back at him. This was the way they should have done it from the first. The Sabine mess had been a big mistake; Gammis conveniently ignored the fact that he had voted to blow the ansible platforms. This time . . . this time they had a better plan. He knew the coalition wouldn’t last forever, but for now, for the length of time it would take to bring down InterStellar Communications and consolidate the power they needed, it would hold.
They didn’t have to kill all the Vattas, whatever that idiot said. They only had to kill enough, at once or within a short interval, enough to shock and terrify the rest: Vatta and non-Vatta shippers, Slotter Key and other planetary governments. No more little bangs, no more sporadic raids. One big paralyzing, terrifying, enigmatic explosion . . . He grinned wider. He could just imagine the frantic scrambling, the panic spreading through Captains’ Guildhalls, government offices, corporate headquarters, all across this sector. Everyone trying to figure out who, and why, and what would happen next. He and his allies were the only ones who knew the answer.
By the time they figured it out, if they ever did, it would be too late. He knew all about Slotter Key’s President; the President didn’t even know his name. Someday everyone would know it.

Ky checked in at the Captains’ Guild and took her duffel up to her room while her escort waited. It took only a few minutes to unpack and freshen up. She would take the paperwork to the Economic Development Bureau first, and then pay her courtesy visit to the Slotter Key legation. With any luck, she could have the afternoon free to start looking for cargo. She’d downloaded a list of recent shipments, but Belinta’s exports didn’t match well with her understanding of what would sell at Leonora. Lastway was a mystery; from the records, its markets went up and down dramatically, depending on what preceding ships had delivered.
At the Economic Development Bureau, she handed the paperwork to a bored clerk and received the confirmation of the final funds deposit in the Vatta account. She was almost back to the legation when her escort turned to her.
“Captain, there’s an urgent message from the Captains’ Guild. Your ship wants to contact you, and you have no implant.”
“Call the legation and tell them I may be delayed,” Ky said. “We’ll go to the Captains’ Guild.”
Only a few minutes later, she was in a secure communications booth in the Captains’ Guild lobby, talking to Quincy aboard Gary Tobai . “Slow down,” she said finally. “I thought it was cargo thieves and now you’re telling me it’s sabotage?”
“The station police say it is. Was going to be. They found our cargo—the original, part of the consignment to Leonora—in a utility closet. They’re sure it’s the same; it’s got the consignment IDs on the tape. But what was in the container that fellow loaded was a time-delayed explosive. They said it could have blown up the ship. And part of the station if we’d still been docked. If I hadn’t noticed—and I almost didn’t, he was just a dockworker, I thought—Captain, we could have been killed—!”
“But you did spot him, and we weren’t,” Ky said. Her mind whirled. Sabotage was not unknown, and Paison’s allies might consider that they had a motive. They knew—anyone who followed the news stories would know—where she was going when she left Sabine system. But Belinta was an unlikely place for an ambush, she’d have thought. Well out of the way, small, little traffic, an insular, suspicious culture. It would have been more cheaply and easily done somewhere else.
“They want us to leave,” Quincy went on. “For our own safety, they’re saying, but I can tell they’re scared.”
So was Quincy, by her face and voice, and no wonder. “A good idea,” Ky said. “How close were we to finishing loading?”
“Another six to eight hours.”
“It will take me that long to get back up to the station,” Ky said. “Unless I charter a flight.” Would that be reimbursable as a legitimate expense, under the circumstances? “I’ll let the consul know something’s come up, and forget looking for cargo.”
“Don’t forget to report this to headquarters,” Quincy said.
“Headquarters?”
“All material threats against Vatta ships—you’ll need to give them an ansible call right away. So if it’s more than local, they can warn other ships.”
“That seems a bit extreme,” Ky said. “I think it’s probably something to do with Sabine; it shouldn’t affect anyone else.”
“If you had the Vatta implant, it would be in emergency procedures, Captain. Piracy, sabotage, anything like that. Call headquarters immediately—I would have, if I hadn’t been able to raise you within the hour.”
“You still could—” Ky began.
“No, it’s captain’s responsibility; they’ll want to hear from you.”
“I should wait until I’m up there and have the report from the police,” Ky said. “They’ll ask questions I can’t answer—”
“Immediate notification is the priority,” Quincy said. “It’s in the implants.”
If she did what she planned, she’d never have the Vatta implant. Wrong time to think about that, though. “All right. I’ll call right away, then see how soon I can get back up there. Once you’ve got the ship loaded, button us up. Will the police put a guard on our dock space?”
“Yes. There’s one out there now.”
That was a help. She hoped that was a help.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she said, and signed off. Now for the ansible call home. Belinta’s ansible-access procedures worked normally, the status lights blinking appropriately through their sequences. She had no idea what time it would be at Vatta corporate headquarters, but it didn’t matter. They had someone on duty in the communications suite at all hours. The green lights blinked three times, and the screen lit, but showed no image.
“Vatta Headquarters,” a voice said. “This call originated on Belinta. You are Captain Kylara Vatta, is that correct?”
“Yes,” Ky said. This didn’t sound like standard procedure. “Are you transmitting visual? This screen is blank.”
“Link your implant for urgent download,” the voice said without answering her question.
“I don’t have an implant,” Ky said. “What is it? I was going to report a threat—”
“Uh . . . go ahead. Report the threat.” She heard voices behind the voice she was listening to, as if the sound shielding weren’t on. She couldn’t quite hear what they were saying.
“Unknown persons posing as dockworkers attempted to load an explosive device onto my ship,” Ky said. “The ship is safe and undamaged, but they got away.”
“Understood,” the voice said. “We have a situation here, too, Captain. We are sending a warning to all ships; there appears to be the possibility of multiple threats to Vatta personnel.”
“What kind of threats?” Ky asked.
“I . . . am not at liberty to say,” the voice said.
“Could you connect me to my father, please?” Ky said. She would find out more from him than from some communications tech. “Gerard Vatta? Or my uncle?”
“Uh . . . I’m afraid that’s not possible at this time,” the voice said.
“Why?” Ky asked. “He’s got his skullphone.”
“He is . . .” A pause. “He is temporarily unavailable. Your message will be forwarded immediately and I’m sure he will want to speak with you.”
Cold swept over her. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “You said a threat—what’s happened?”
“Captain—” Another pause. “It is not for me to say. There is a Situation.”
“Are the senior officers all right?” Ky asked.
“I believe so, yes.” Something in the voice conveyed doubt, not assurance.
“But you aren’t sure—”
“It’s the—” The screen blanked, and the status light went to yellow, blinking.SIGNAL LOST. DO YOU WANT TO RECONNECT? Y/N appeared instead. Ky sat back; she could feel her pulse racing. Whatever had happened had happened—instantaneous communication or no, whatever it had been was over. She could do nothing about it. She would try a direct call to her father—much more expensive, but at the moment money didn’t matter.