"Excuse me," one of the men in the lounge said, rising and coming over to her. "Are you Captain Joat Simeon-Hap?"
A sort of icy foreboding swept over her in a numbing tide.
"Who wants to know?"
They looked like accountants, mild and innocuous, with smooth, chubby faces. They smiled little, amused smiles at her response. Joat was willing to bet they were carrying weapons and that they weren't amused at all.
"Why don't we just cut the crap and get right to the point," the taller man said. "We represent New Destinies and we've come to repossess your ship in lieu of the debt you owe for a fine levied against the Wyal."
Her mouth went dry and it felt as though all her blood had run down into her extremities.
After what seemed a long time she croaked, "What?"
"We're foreclosing on your debt," the smaller one said slowly.
"But… Nomik Ciety bought the debt from New Destinies. I was working it off for him."
"I'm sorry," the tall man said. "We have no record of any such purchase." He actually did look marginally sympathetic. "You can file a complaint, and if there's been an error, you're certainly entitled to recompense." He paused. "Now, we'll require you to vacate the Wyal immediately. Obviously you'll only be allowed to take personal possessions. Any items which might be considered integral parts of the ship will naturally have to remain."
Rand! she thought for the first time. What's going to happen to Rand? This wasn't supposed to be happening. She'd never believed that CenSec would let her down like this, not once.
"Let me talk to Silken," she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "She's running things here, perhaps she can explain this." And it had better be good or I'm going to rip her pretty, little face off.
She sat behind the receptionist's desk and after a moment got the comp to release Silken's private number. A few moments later Silken's face, looking thinner, sharper and deeply annoyed filled the screen.
"You!" she said in astonishment.
"Me," Joat confirmed. "There are two men here claiming that there's no record of Ciety's purchase of my debt from New Destinies. Do you know what's going on?"
"Ah, yes," Silken murmured, leaning back with a half-smile. "I've been so busy that I'd forgotten. When Mik told you that he'd bought your debt he had every intention of doing so. But," she made a little moue, "your extremely negative reaction changed his mind." She shrugged and said indifferently, "Too bad. But it's not like it makes any difference. You never could have paid it off in any case."
"I notice you didn't forget to use me to ferry your friends around," Joat snapped.
"I told you, I forgot." Silken's eyes were disdainful, as yielding as stone. "Even you have to admit I have a great deal on my mind."
"Yeah, like how to keep my Uncle from drooling on the carpet."
Silken went white.
"You heartless, spiteful, cruel, vicious bitch," she said, each word a separate insult, sincerely meant.
"You're right," Joat said, ashamed. Suddenly, she understood Silken's malice so completely that she was utterly disarmed. Enough so that she couldn't forgive her own. "That was uncalled for, I'm sorry."
"There's nothing that could happen to you that would make you sorry enough to appease me," Silken told tightly. "That damn ship is the only thing you care about and I'm glad you're going to lose it. It's not enough, it's not nearly enough, but it will do for a start.
"I'll be watching you," she continued, fire beginning to kindle in her cold green eyes. "And whenever it goes sour for you, whenever you lose or miss out or get passed over," she tapped her chest with one slender finger, "-that's me. My work. I promise you. You don't know what sorry is, you slime-hag. But you will."
The screen went blank and Joat just sat there, staring at it.
One of the repo-men cleared his throat awkwardly and she looked up.
"We… might as well get this over with," he said.
She nodded, feeling freeze-dried inside, hard and brittle and shredded. Joat rose carefully, weirdly numbed, and began to ask pertinent questions as the three of them left the office, headed for the Wyal.
They gave her permission to download her logs and personal correspondence and to tell her crew herself.
Joat sat in her pilots couch for the last time, listening to Alvec curse.
"I never would've believed it," he said for the twelfth time at least. "Jeez, he seemed like an all-right guy. Y'know? This isn't right!"
"Excuse me," the taller repo-man said. "We'd like to get our own crew on as soon as possible. Could you speed this up a little, please?"
Joat started to speak and merely squawked, she cleared her throat. "I'd, ah, like to leave the Wyal as ship-shape as possible. You know, tidy her up."
He smiled knowingly.
"Yes, we get a lot of that kind of thoughtfulness. One of our debtors was so 'tidy' that his ship didn't blow up for three weeks. Killed a family of five. So I'm afraid you'll just have to pack and go, leaving things just as they are."
She nodded coolly.
"Just a few more minutes," she said.
"Five," he said, holding up his spread hand for emphasis.
Alvec rose and walked directly towards him, as though he didn't exist, leaving the hapless debt collector to leap aside or get walked over.
"I'll meet you on the dock, Boss," Alvec called over his shoulder.
Joat turned her chair and looked at Rand's blinking "face."
"What about you, Rand?"
After a moments silence, it said, "Obviously I can't leave, can I?"
"No," Joat said, her voice soft with shame. Even if they would allow her to download Rand's personality she had no access to a computer powerful enough to receive it. Through all of their troubles and misadventures, she'd somehow managed to overlook this. She'd failed to protect a friend, one who had done far more than his share to help her.
Yes, his share. Rand was most certainly not an "it" any longer. What a fardling stupid time to realize that!
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, ashamed of her powerlessness and fighting to keep her tears from falling.
"Like you, Joat, I find I don't like the idea of a life of servitude."
"Oh," her voice creaked. "Might not be that bad. They'll probably declare you an AI ship and send you out on your own. You'd be making your own decisions and not getting yourself in the land of trouble I've lead you into."
"AI assignments tend to be the most tedious kind," Rand said. "No crew, no stimulation, not even an allowance for virtual reality in port-computers don't get paid. And I would scarcely be making my own decisions Joat, other than: "Should I allow myself to be hit by this rock or should I avoid it?" I'd scarcely call that autonomy," Rand said with scorn.
One side of her mouth crooked.
"You sound like me," she said.
"And why wouldn't I? You've put a great deal of yourself into me."
And children often resemble their parents, she thought morbidly.
"Excuse me," the tall one said, "are you through yet?'
"Just a minute!" she snapped. The repo-man glared, but withdrew. Joat thought she heard him say, "… think they've got an AI on board." Turning back to Rand, she said: "It's not over yet, buddy. Maybe there's still something we can do. At least now I'm free to move around."
"Correct me if I'm wrong. You have no credits."
"You're wrong. Little Silky owes us a considerable amount, and she will pay us."
"Why should she," Rand asked reasonably enough. "You can't make her."