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up, you,” the nearest guard said, yanking Marmion’s head back by her flowing curls. “You’re no different than the rest of these sluts to us and you don’t give orders here.” She shoved her toward one of the chairs surrounded by piles of hair. “Take a load off, queenie.”
    But a stern voice contradicted her. “Not her, not yet. Put her in uniform and give her one of our VIP suites. Make sure she doesn’t hurt herself.”
    They led her down claustrophobic corridors between cold cell blocks to a tiny bare room with a hard slab for a bed and bench and a stinking hole in the floor to drain waste. The door had no bars, just a slot for food at the bottom. She was sure there would be cameras hidden somewhere in the ceiling or the door and that the door would have a one-way panel through which they could observe her without her being able to see them.
    As the door closed and locked behind her, she heard other cell doors clanging shut.

CHAPTER 4
    R ONAN , M UREL, AND Sky cleared the bay and burst into the port master’s office. The port master, a whippetlike woman with a silver buzz cut, stood staring out into the bay and spun around to face the interlopers.
    “What are you kids doing here?”
    They didn’t know her, but her name tag said, CHIEF C. BROWN .
    “We came to warn you,” Murel told her. “Marmie—Madame—has been arrested and taken to Gwinnet Incarceration Colony by some corrupt Company Corpsmen. We need help getting word to her friends and allies so they can get her released.”
    “Why did they send kids to tell us? The
Piaf
—”
    “They confiscated the
Piaf
and all of the crew and passengers,” Ronan told her. “They may be headed here—”
    The woman returned her attention to the docking bay, shaking her head. “Nope. You’re a little late. They just arrived.”
    The twins followed her gaze. The big ship’s hatch had opened and triple files of Company Corpsmen marched double-time over the gangplank down the bay, heading straight for them.
    Come on, Mur, we gotta get out of here,
Ronan said, pushing through the office’s interior hatch.
    Where to?
Murel asked as they raced down the long corridor.
    Marmie’s house.
    That’s the first place they’ll go!
she protested.
    I don’t think so. Not with her in custody already. They’ll be too busy taking over everything else. Meanwhile maybe we can use her com system to get word out about her arrest.
    But they’ll take over the com systems first,
she argued.
    They found the first lift that scaled all levels of the station and took it up to Marmie’s penthouse. The weather was set on fine—a nice spring day. The house was open, being run by Marmie’s housekeepers in her absence.
    “Slainté, Mrs. Fogarty,” Ronan called as they raced for the com room.
    “You’re back!” the housekeeper said. “No one told me you were coming. And me without dinner for herself!” She followed them to the com room, where Murel sat at the keyboard composing a message to send to Marmie’s entire list of contacts. There was no time now to sort out who was who. “You’re tracking water all over my floors again, and what
is
that animal with you, a big rat?”
    Ronan said, “No, Mrs. Fogarty. He’s an otter.”
    “First seals, now an otter. This place is turning into an aquarium.”
    “Never mind about that, Mrs. Fogarty. Soldiers are on their way, probably to impound the station and arrest us all.”
    “Why? I’ve done nothing wrong.”
    “They’ve taken Marmie and are confiscating all of her stuff, arresting her staff as accomplices,” Ronan told her.
    Bollocks!
Murel swore, and turned around with tears of frustration in her eyes.
    No luck?
Ronan asked her.
    I don’t think so. Just as I hit Send, the system shut down.
    The com screen came on and a uniformed man said in a deep gruff voice, “Attention all personnel of the space station designated as
Versailles.
This property is under an impound and seizure order according to statute 68795-Zed