Free Command Decision by Elizabeth Moon

sure the merchandise meets specs and they know our money’s good, we shouldn’t have a problem. Though I will be alert, of course.”
    Gretna Main Station had ample docking spaces—trade was down here, too—but the stationmaster refused to assign the three ships adjoining berths, on the grounds of station rotational balance. It made sense, but Ky felt a twinge of uneasiness. From the aft external monitors of
Vanguard,
she could not see even the aftmost tip of
Sharra’s Gift
or
Bassoon,
though there were no ships between
Vanguard
and them.
    Port Security waited at dockside, ready to issue local IDs to the entire crew and collect the fee. All of them were as pale as the face Ky had seen onscreen before; though some had more pink color than others, all had pale eyes and hair. They were efficient about taking information and issuing IDs; tags with name, ship’s name, and a local code number spat out the end of a machine in just a few seconds.
    “You’re now free to move about the station,” the one with the most glitter on his uniform said. “You must wear the ID tag clearly visible at all times.”
    Ky nodded; his assistants pulled a cover over the tag-making machine, and they all left dockside.
    “That was odd,” Hugh said. “No welcoming speech, nothing.”
    “I’m going to call the others,” Ky said.
    “Ansible?”
    “No. I know that’s the most secure method we’ve got, but I want to know how the station’s own system works. We’ll need to meet. There’s bound to be some central location…Captains’ Guild, if nothing else. Let’s get our security monitors mounted dockside—”
    “Right away,” Hugh said, nodding. “Munitions draw thieves on the most law-abiding ports.” From his tone, he’d already decided that Gretna wasn’t one of those.
    Law-abiding port or not, Gretna Station had a Crown & Spears branch office just two doors away from the Captains’ Guild. Ky found that Vatta Transport had a sizable balance there, drawing minimal interest, and the manager accepted her identity without question. He ushered her into his private office and set an obvious privacy device on his desk, flicking it on. “Trading in munitions?” he asked then.
    Ky wondered why he didn’t trust the privacy devices no doubt built into the entire branch, but that was not something to ask. She shrugged. “Trade goes where the profit goes. In these unsettled times—”
    “Of course,” he said. “If you want advice, I’d go with General Munitions instead of Gretna Munitions Outlet—”
    “Thank you,” Ky said. “That’s the recommendation in Vatta’s records as well; the notation is that quality control is better. I’m glad to have recent confirmation. I need to pick up medical supplies as well—any recommendations there?”
    “Supplies alone or medically trained personnel? You might be able to pick up some of the latter at the local indenture auction house.”
    “Indenture auction house?”
    He looked down, running his finger along the side of his desktop display. “You haven’t been to Gretna before…there’s a long-standing tradition of indentured labor here.”
    “You mean…slaves?”
    “They prefer not to call them slaves. Criminals working off their court costs and fines, is the way Gretnans look at it. Recently, with less trade coming through, it’s become more obvious. At any rate, if someone buys out a contract, they can get contracted labor fairly cheaply. I happen to know there’s a surplus of medically trained personnel right now. The listing’s available.” He cleared his throat. “And you probably noticed…the native Gretnans are pretty much all of one phenotype, and they distrust those of other phenotypes. With your…uh…I’d be careful, if I were you.”
    With her darker skin, he meant. Ky scowled. “So why does Crown & Spears deal with them?” But the answer was obvious and she said it along with him as he shrugged. “Trade and profit, I know. All right—but I