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us.”
    “ Not here , my lord,” Plet said. I read urgency in her voice.
    I scanned my crew’s faces, and recorded the apprehensive expressions thereon. In my eagerness I was being insensitive. I put the cards back in their silk-lined repository.
    “My apologies,” I said, truly chastened. “You’re right. It’s best done in private. When we have the chance, you shall sit in the marvelous silk tent that I have had made, and wait until you see my robes! They were made for me by the imperial tailor. He told me he had not had so much fun in years! I have also considered robes for seekers, those who come to me to have their future foretold. Not much historical documentation is available as to appropriate wear for querents, but there’s little as satisfying as starting a new tradition.”
    “Have you read your briefing about the mission to the Autocracy?” Plet said, interrupting me in full spate.
    I was not troubled by her abrupt change in subject. Humans born under the sign of the Space Traveler were apt to multitask.
    “I fear not,” I said. “At the moment every word seems to spread across my entire field of vision. There wasn’t time to listen to audio transcription before all of you rescued me from my medical cocoon. What does it entail?”
    Plet frowned.
    “Perhaps you should review it when you can focus.”
    “Give me the overview,” I pleaded. “I hate waiting.”
    “Reports from the frontier between the Imperium and the Autocracy indicate that the Autocracy is blocking groups of ships from entering the jump points, often for weeks or months, then suddenly granting permission. There is no reason given for the sudden change in policy, though it came only a matter of months after the installation of the new Autocrat, Visoltia, two years ago. Our ambassador consults frequently with the Autocrat, but the impasse remains in place. But there is a more troubling matter. At Way Station 46, the most direct frontier crossing from the Core Worlds, a spate of smuggling was reported. Nine ships that were granted leave to enter were all found to be carrying contraband. Ordnance and ships.”
    “Really?” I asked, astonished. “All of them?”
    “So it would seem.”
    “How very odd that they would not think they would be suspected. They are all incarcerated?”
    “Awaiting trial,” Plet said, then hesitated. I picked up on her natural distaste for mentioning the consequences.
    “I am aware of the penalties for smuggling weapons of war,” I said. “It is a terrible shame.”
    “The traders plead that they are innocent,” Plet said, “although the evidence is overwhelming that they did commit the crime.”
    “But how was it that their smuggling was not detected, in spite of their spending months on the customs space station?” I asked.
    “If we knew that, there would be no need to investigate,” Plet said.
    “How right you are,” I said.
    “Speaking of investigations,” Anstruther began, then blushed crimson as we all turned to her.
    “Do go on,” I said, gently. “I have been out of touch long enough in my medical confinement!”
    She glanced from me to Plet, as if asking permission to continue.
    “Well, from the news reports, two crime syndicates that are known to be operating in the outer systems had a gang war right there on Keinolt!”
    “Very troubling,” I said, although I fancy my avid expression gave the lie to the austere statement. “What was the outcome?”
    “Broken up by law enforcement,” Redius said. “Nothing.”
    “But that isn’t terribly interesting,” I said.
    “One gang had a run-in with a number of civilians in Taino,” Nesbitt added.
    “Tell me everything!” I commanded them.
    “Well, it happened on Sparrow Island,” Anstruther said, with the awed expression of someone who had never been there. “Some aristocrats were threatened by the criminals. Alleged criminals,” she corrected herself.
    Sparrow Island was a favorite haunt of my relatives. This