“I sold it to my brother, actually.” And that money was now gone, paid to Gold Orchid as part of her scheme to get Pahlad Budrakim out of Compassionate Removal.
“I hope you got a good price for it. Do the sleeping cabin doors lock?”
It took Ingray a few moments to process the sudden shift of topic. “More or less. I’m sure Captain Uisine can open them no matter what, though.”
“Will you knock, please, if I’m not awake at the next mealtime?”
“Of course,” Ingray agreed. “I might as well take a nap myself once I’m done eating.” It wasn’t as though there was much else to do, stuck here on this ship with all the news and information feeds cut off. Though it might be a good idea to go over the fare agreement again—hopefully if this didn’t turn out in Captain Uisine’s favor, she would still be legally due a refund of her and Garal’s fares. But there was plenty of time for that. Ingray was used to government officials; it might be some time before the Geck ambassador turned up, and even longer before she—he? E? It?—no, the Enforcement official had said she—decided to do whatever it was she was going to do.
As it happened, Ingray severely underestimated the interest the Geck ambassador took in Captain Uisine’s ship. Ingray, Garal, and Captain Uisine were eating supper that evening in the tiny galley—the captain had shared out meals from the ship’s store without any comment. Garal had, once again, seemingly swallowed eir rehydrated stew in a few quick gulps. Captain Uisine said, calmly, “Would you like more, excellency?”
“Thank you, Captain, no,” Garal replied, just as evenly.
Halfway through the sentence Captain Uisine sat straighter and stared ahead. Set his bowl on the table. A swishing and clicking came from the corridor, and four spider mechs rushed skittering by.
“Excuse me, excellencies,” said Captain Uisine, still staring ahead. “It seems the Geck ambassador has just come into the bay. And it certainly wouldn’t do to keep her waiting.”
“It wouldn’t,” agreed Ingray, hastily pulling up the fare agreement in her vision and rising so that Captain Uisine could get past her.
“They can’t have been docked for long,” observed Garal.
“I don’t imagine so,” agreed Captain Uisine, as he brushed past.
Ingray looked at the captain’s retreating back, and then at Garal. “Have you ever seen a Geck? Even pictures?”
“No.”
Captain Uisine’s voice came from down the corridor. “Come if you’re curious, but there’s nothing much to see.”
For a moment, Ingray wondered how he could know that. Then she remembered the spider mechs scurrying past. Of course, he’d seen through one or more of their stalked eyes. Had probably set one at the airlock to watch the bay. And once she and Garal came through the open airlock, she understood better why he’d said what he’d said. And also realized, quite clearly, that she was fortunate that the fare agreement did seem to indicate that she would be due a refund if the Geck confiscated this ship, because no matter how genuine Captain Uisine’s title to it looked, he had almost certainly stolen it.
The Enforcement official from earlier stood in the bay, and beside em a woman in a silver-and-green sarong and jacket that managed to look both subdued and luxurious, every fold and tuck, every drape of fabric, in perfect place. Her face was teasingly familiar, until Ingray realized she’d seen that face on a public newscast two days ago. This was the Chief Executive of Tyr Siilas. And beside her squatted a disturbingly gelatinous-bodied, hairy-appendaged, many-legged, and many-eyed bio mech, very nearly identical to the ones Ingray had just seen scuttling to the back of the ship. A little larger, maybe, and as Ingray and Garal came up behind Captain Uisine, it took a step forward, heavy and deliberate where the ship’s mechs were unsettlingly delicate and graceful. There was no one else in the bay, and the captain had said the Geck ambassador was here, so this had to be her. Or, this had to be her mech she was piloting at any rate.
“I’ve presented my documents, excellencies,” Captain Uisine was saying. The Enforcement official once again held the captain’s tabula in eir hand. “I bought this ship five years ago, and I own it free of any lien or hold.”
The Chief Executive gave Captain Uisine a sharp look. “Ownership was transferred here at Tyr Siilas, it says.”
“Yes, Executive. In a witnessed contract, in the station registry office. Where there should be a recording of the transaction.”
“It is fortunate,” said the Chief Executive, “that you went to such pains to ensure the sale was verifiably legal and valid.”
“It is my invariable habit, Executive. A moment of trouble saves a month of tears.”
“Indeed.” The Chief Executive turned, looked down at the spider mech, which had turned all its eyes toward Captain Uisine. “Ambassador, I’m afraid Excellency Tic Uisine’s title to this ship is quite clear. The transfer was entirely legal, and the ship has a clear chain of ownership back to the shipyard. And Excellency Uisine himself is a citizen of Tyr Siilas. I examined all the records myself, this afternoon. We cannot hold him without cause, and we certainly cannot impound his possessions without good legal reason.”
“Not citizen,” asserted the spider mech in a whispery, whistling voice. “Not possible.”
“He paid the fee,” said the Chief Executive. “He has met all his obligations as a citizen since then, and he has broken no laws. He has not been served with even the smallest fine since that day.”
“Money does not make a citizen,” whispered the spider mech, its forest of stalked eyes still fixed on Captain Uisine.
“It does here, Ambassador,” replied the Chief Executive. “Or it can. In this case it does.”
Captain Uisine spoke then, his voice unbelievably calm and smooth. “What makes a citizen of the Geck, Ambassador?”
The spider mech’s body trembled, and it lifted one of its claws and set it back down again with a thunk. It did not otherwise reply.
“I’m sure you’ll understand, Ambassador,” said the Chief Executive, “why Tyr cannot just hand one of its citizens over to you. I am quite sure that if we demanded the arrest of one of your own citizens, you would not wish to hand them over without sufficient evidence of wrongdoing.”
“Not your citizen,” whispered the spider mech.
“Are you,” asked Captain Uisine, voice still silky, “claiming I’m one of yours?”
The trembling of the spider mech’s body increased. It struck the floor twice more. “This is why,” it whispered. “You did not understand why. You asked and asked. This is why.”