“Don’t worry about it,” Ancher called over. “My ears aren’t that good.”
She gave Ancher a look, then turned toward him, pulling him into their conversation. “Why haven’t you gone public with this?”
“I told you,” he said. “I figure maybe I owe you one. But I can’t sit on it forever, Chief. Someone else will find out, and they’ll broadcast.”
“How much time can you get me?”
“Five hours, maybe six.” He began to sound like a reporter again. “What do I get for it?”
“What do you want?”
“An interview.” His gaze took in Trey. “With both of you. And Captain Foster.”
“No deal. Leak it, and I’ll take my chances.” She turned and began to walk away, and Trey moved to follow her.
“Wait, wait!” Ancher scurried to catch up. “Just you, Chief. But an exclusive. Nothing for those streamer scavengers, okay? Not a word.”
Her reply was just as prompt. “Done,” she said. “But if I hear so much as a rumor anywhere on comms in the next six hours, Ancher, you are shut out for good. Not just on this, but on everything. You understand?”
That, Trey knew, was a serious threat for a reporter, and she delivered it sincerely. But Ancher just gave her that cocky smile again. “Loud and clear, Chief.” He winked at Trey. “You kids have a nice day.” He turned, and walked off the way he had come.
They both watched him until he was well out of earshot, and then Trey turned to her. He could see the shadows under her eyes, and her expression held a hint of desperation. Closer to the edge than she was letting on. “What of Central?” he asked. “Will they get involved?”
She paused before answering, and he wondered if that was good or bad. “Not in a way that will help,” she said at last. “Central’s rigid when it comes to troops on Volhynia, and I didn’t do myself any favors by losing my temper in front of the press. There’s a good chance they’ll demand I leave, which means we need to—”
Her comm chimed, and she muted it, but almost immediately the tone was repeated. This time she frowned, resigned. “I apologize,” she said to him.
“For what?”
“For this,” she replied, and completed the connection.
“You have fifteen seconds,” a man’s voice said, low and menacing, “to explain why you cut me off. Twice.”
Her response was terse. “I was busy.”
There was a pause before the man replied. “You were busy?” His incredulity was palpable. “Was this five seconds ago, or while you were having a tantrum in front of the fucking chief of police, not to mention every goddamned streamer in this sector? You realize your entire chain of command is watching that right now?”
She swore, looking chagrined.
“Yeah, now you’re thinking about it, after it’s out on the public fucking stream! Now how about you answer the question, Chief, before I bust you back to ensign for insubordination?”
This, Trey realized, had to be her captain, and he was using a tone Trey, who’d had to use it on occasion, recognized very well. What was curious was her complete lack of deference. “How about this?” she snapped in return. “How about I knew all you were going to do was shriek at me, and I had better things to do than listen?”
“You—are you forgetting my direct order? The one where you give that pirate his alibi, and get your ass back to the ship? The one that did not include threatening the local cops with authority you don’t have before you snuck out the back door?”
Trey’s stomach turned. She did not know the people she was dealing with. “What did you say to the police?”
She looked away. “I told them Central would take over the investigation if they didn’t do it properly.”
“Who are you talking to?”
“Captain Zajec, sir.”
Another pause on the line. “Captain,” the man said formally, as if he had not been threatening his officer a moment before, “we haven’t been introduced. I’m Captain Greg Foster, CCSS Galileo.”
Trey knew his name, of course, and a little of his reputation, but he did not think the circumstances were shedding the best light on the man. “A pleasure, Captain,” Trey told him, “but I do not use my title any longer. May I express my condolences on the loss of your officer.”
This time Trey heard him sigh. “Thank you, Mr. Zajec,” Foster said, and he sounded old and tired. “And may I say, I am sorry you’ve become tangled in all of this. Our only goal is to see the killer brought to justice.”
Glib and practiced, Trey thought, but not necessarily insincere. “Thank you, Captain. Although I do not think our police are yet convinced they should look elsewhere.”
“Why did they suspect you to begin with?” Foster asked.
Trey closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face; he did not want to have this conversation now, but he could not see Foster allowing him to put it off. “A number of reasons, actually,” he told the captain, feeling the woman’s eyes on him. “One is because I was PSI, and Volhynia has an uneasy relationship with us. Stoya was appointed, in part, due to the tension between PSI and some of the local Syndicates who are moving to become legitimate traders. Another is simply because I am a stranger, and this is a small colony.” He took a breath. “Mostly, though, it is because I committed a crime here when I was a child, and they cannot prosecute me for it.”
“What did you do?”
Ah, well. It’s not like I’m ashamed of it. “I killed a man,” he said.
Trey felt rather than saw her grow still.
“If they know it, why can’t they arrest you?” Foster asked him.
They could, of course. They could arrest him, and he could confess, and even on Volhynia—even in Novanadyr, where he had so few friends—no jury would convict him. “They cannot make a case,” he said simply.
“So instead, you’re just the guy they arrest whenever they need a warm body?”
Trey risked a glance at the woman; her eyes had gone wary, and he was surprised how much that stung. “In this case they were not without reason. I found your officer outside the kitchen of the restaurant where I work. And yes, Captain, it would be a remarkable coincidence, except that the body was moved there.” He had wanted to tell her earlier, when Ancher was still there, but something had told him this was as important a detail to keep secret as her relationship to the dead man.
“How do you know?”
Trey chose as few words as he could. “There was not enough blood.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I know death.” And he thought, captain to captain, that he would not have to say anything more.
“I think Luvidovich knows it as well,” the woman said. “Stoya is keeping him from investigating properly. I don’t know why, but Luvidovich isn’t happy about it.”
“I doubt that matters,” Foster said. “After your impromptu press conference, they’re going to start asking about you as well as Danny, and they’re going to spin it as a very neat setup. I can protect the chief, Mr. Zajec, but I have no influence over the treatment of Volhynian citizens. If you’d consent to visit Galileo, we could offer you protection.”
Her expression had changed, grown wary again. This time, however,