Free Changing Vision by Julie E. Czerneda Page B

wrapped his hand towel—one hung from the side of each chair in lieu of napkins—around the glass toinsulate it. Then we dipped our respective containers into the pyati and, with varying degrees of caution, took a reverent taste. It was, as always, superb. And one of the few beverages safe for almost all patrons, although it acted as a conveniently quick sedative to Carasians—something Ersh had assimilated for me from Ansky’s bar-hopping days in more biological detail than I’d required at the time.
    I licked cream from one tusk and continued: “Why the
Vegas Lass?
You’ve surely asked yourself that question—as have we.”
    “I’ve no idea.” Her eyes narrowed, her tone close to accusation. “Do you?”
    “What if they’d obtained your manifest?” I suggested mildly. It was one of many suspicions Paul and I had discussed before coming here this morning. “If so, perhaps the Tly confiscated your cargo not because of some violation, but because it contained exactly what they were after.”
    “That would be piracy,” Chase refuted, keeping her voice down, though I was intrigued to see one of her eyebrows move up. “The inspectors were authorized. I contacted the Office of the Tly Assembly myself before allowing them to grapple and board the
Lass.
”
    “Nicely done,” Paul said with approval and a glance at me.
    I’d never denied this Human’s abilities as a captain, although I found myself wondering what she’d planned to do in the event the inspectors hadn’t been authorized.
Submit a complaint in triplicate before sucking vacuum?
“What class vessel did you say they had?” I asked.
    Paul answered absently, having begun flipping through what looked to be over a hundred pages of very fine print. “Tly inspectors use Ultari scouts—fast, small, and cheap—the ones the Ultarians make in the thousands. Most of them even work.”
    “No,” Chase corrected him, her head tilting. She had yellow hair this visit insystem, and wore it in a series of cascading braids that reached to one shoulder. “That was another strange thing about this. They had one of the old military cruisers; it had to predate the disbanding. Sent a chill throughthe scan-techs, believe me, even if the weaponsbay was sealed.”
    Paul raised his head and looked at me. “Cargo space,” he commented dryly.
    “So the question becomes: was the Assembly after the cargo itself or to keep it from Inhaven Prime?” I didn’t have to include Chase in policy matters, and did so now less to include her, a spacer, in what was usually discussed planetside, than to impress Paul with my efforts to be diplomatic. From the attentive look on her face as she sipped more pyati, at least Chase appreciated the courtesy. “Any indication from the forms?” I asked Paul, seeing he’d stopped reading.
    “What we have here—” Paul answered grimly, setting his cup on top of the pile of sheets, “is a list of complaints filed by Tly against us, accompanied by a very strongly worded request for punitive action by Minascan Port Authority: improper stowage procedures, failure to pay customs, safety violations—” he waved one hand upward.
    “Trumped-up nonsense—”
    I held up my three fingers to silence the indignant captain. “Of course. But they are trying to tie us up with Port Authority. Again, why? To punish Cameron & Ki, and so Largas Freight? Or to hamper shipping to Inhaven Prime?”
    “What about your courier pouch? Did they take that as well?” Paul asked. I angled one ear his way, catching a carefully light tone in his voice, the one guaranteed to make me nervous.
    I reviewed my memories hastily. The Tly were quite welcome to read the business reports and merchandise offerings I’d put in the pouch—maybe they’d buy something from our latest catalog.
What else could it be?
    Before I could ask the question or, better yet, find some excuse to be rid of our companion and ask Paul himself, Chase pulled a nondescript case from under