Cold Welcome Page 17

  “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 fi
ne 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?”
<
br />   “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.