

The Sound

and

The Fury

of

José Fabuloso

# By Joseph Jaquinta

# Published By Joseph Jaquinta

Copyright 2019 Joseph Jaquinta

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

Chapter 1

Small hands patted insistently at their mother's face. "Mommy!" his soft voice insisted.

The woman's focus was drawn suddenly to this new distraction, attention immediately diverted to the child she held on her hip. "What is it boo-boo?" she cooed.

"Gentle words mommy!" the child admonished. "You need to use gentle words."

"Oh darling", said the mother. "I'm not using angry words at you! I'm using them at the bad, bad ship out there." She planted a kiss on the child's head and jiggled him, turning back to a bridge in chaos. "Now, you call those evasive maneuvers? It looks like you're doing embroidery. Gunner, cycle those audited tubes already!"

"But I keep telling you", said the nerve wracked gunner, "we don't have any torpedoes left."

"I can count", growled the woman.

"One torpedo, two torpedo, three torpedo, four!" sang a voice from her right hip.

"Good counting Aiden", cooed the woman. Then, more harshly. "Even Aiden can count. Cycle the deficit tubes because those bastards might see it and think we've got more missiles." The gunner gulped and complied.

"Another torpedo launched!" cried the Navigator in rising hysteria.

"So, evade!" screamed the woman. Then jiggled the kids reflexively. "What do I pay you for?"

"But I've tried all the standard algorithms", wailed the navigator.

"Use José #5", said the woman. The navigator blanched.

"Meese-meese?" said Aiden.

"What is it honey?" asked the woman, hoisting the child to eye level. She had 'M'Elise' stitched onto her uniform.

"Where's mommy?"

"Squirrel-mom is having one of her migraines, sweetie. And, although it is really, really, _really_ inconvenient right now, you know what mom-mom is like when we wake her up after taking her medicine."

"Dragon lady!" giggled Aiden. Boo-boo growled from the other hip.

"Joey, we talked, and you agreed that's not a nice thing to call Squirrel-mom", admonished the woman. She was interrupted as the proximity alarm bellowed over the bridge and the screens flashed up "collision immanent". She looked desperately for a strap, then realized her hands were full of children. Light flared from all the screens as she drew the kids tightly to her chest and braced against a support column.

But there was no impact. Just impressive pyrotechnics and then darkness. Both outside the ship and inside.

"Ooooh", said a small voice. "Fireworks!"

"Can you say E-M-P Aiden?" asked M'Elise calmly. "Electro-magnetic pulse", she enunciated slowly.

"E" began Aiden hesitantly. "M. P!"

"P!" echoed Joey and giggled.

"Perhaps one of this debt laden crew can turn on the emergency lights", continued M'Elise, with exaggerated patience. There was a click, and red light flooded the bridge. "Damage report?"

"Console unresponsive", said one person, sulkily.

Someone else, slightly more on-the-ball, said "System rebooting. 30% complete."

The woman grunted. "As soon as comms are online broadcast asking their terms."

"You're going to deal with these... pirates?"

"Arrrgh!" cried Aiden dramatically. Joey was still giggling over P.

"If they were murderers, they would have killed us rather than hitting us with an EMP", said M'Elise. "Let's assume they are merely extortionists."

Systems slowly came alive on the bridge. M'Elise stalked up and down, glaring at everyone and occasionally jiggling the kids. The crew kept their eyes down and tried to avoid her.

"Comms up", volunteered one. M'Elise turned to the communications station, but it was empty. She sighed, sat heavily in the chair, and re-adjusted the kids on her knees. Before she could free her hands, Aiden has leaned forward with excitement and began mashing buttons.

"No, no Aiden", said M'Elise, trying to stop his hands. "These are Mommy's buttons. I need to use those right now."

"No!" shouted Aiden, pointing indignantly. " _Those_ are mom-mom's buttons. _These_ are _my_ buttons."

M'Elise looked more closely. The buttons that Aiden had taken possession of were large, pastel colored, and labelled with the names of colors, shapes, and animals. The rest of the configurable keyboard had been compressed into a denser space but had a full complement of the standard keys.

"I see", she said. "May I use Squirrel-mom's keys?" Aiden nodded graciously. M'Elise looked at the keyboard again, opened the carrier wave scanner and sent a hail to their assailant.

"I want keys too!" demanded Joey.

"Mummy will set up your keys later..." started M'Elise as the hail was answered.

"I'll take these!" declared Joey, lurching for the keyboard.

M'Elise deftly pivoted him away from the keyboard, blurted "please hold" into the open mic, and muted the line. "Fine. Mommy will do that now." After a minute in setup mode there was a set of keys on each side and a thin bar of the standard controls in the middle.

"Sorry for the delay", she said, picking up the line again. "How may the crew of the José Fabuloso help you today? If you are done with the target practice?"

There was a long pause. "This is the Black Night, current holders of the local system administration contract. You are in violation of current regulations. We demand payment."

M'Elise rolled her eyes. "We're terribly sorry. Which regulations are we in violation of?"

"Um", there was the sound of button clicks. "Appendix D" he said smugly.

"That would be the 'and anything else seen as fitting by local authorities' clause?" she asked sardonically.

"Yeah. If you've got a problem with that, we've got a few torpedoes left."

"How much?" asked M'Elise with resignation. "And do you want credit or a percentage of our cargo?"

"What are you shipping? Sounds like livestock."

She glanced down at the colorful buttons the kids were preoccupied with. "Those are just pets. We've got a hold full of distilled water."

The line went quiet again as she noticed some other indicators showing they were being scanned. "Mass checks. But why are you shipping water?"

"This is a JTX-400 with aftermarket thrusters. She runs a little unsteady when low mass, so when we're short of cargo we tank up on water to balance her out." She left it for a beat. "But we'll share a percentage with you if that's your regulations."

"No thanks. Money will do fine. Send over 50K please", the ship said.

"Sure", said M'Elise smoothly. "Just send me your GBAN and I'll queue up the transaction."

"GBAN? I don't think so. Virtual cash."

"I'm sorry", said M'Elise with mock sadness. "We're not set up for that. This is a commercial vessel. Our fiscal software is hard wired to Galactic Bank transactions. Our auditors are from Trondheim and you know what they're like. They've got the most intrusive fiscal adherence protocol software in the galaxy. Even the crew's dice games get logged."

This got a few raised eyebrows from the crew. "Mommy's from Tron'heim" said Joey, as M'Elise dived for the mute button.

"That's right boo-boo", said M'Elise. "But let's keep that our little secret for now."

"You don't have any cash?" said the ship.

"None at all. Owner's insistence", said M'Elise with pity. "Surely one of you must have a Galactic Bank Account Number?" She paused. "Credit card?"

"You want _our_ credit card number?"

"I can send a credit transfer through to the connected account", said M'Elise smoothly. "I've got a menu option for that."

There was some shuffling. "OK. I've got one here. Sending credentials."

"Great", said M'Elise, shunting the data. "How shall I encode this?"

"What do you mean encode?"

"You know, transaction type. The software uses it", she shrugged. "Usually we use 'system taxes' or 'traffic fines'."

"Can't you just send cash?" asked the ship tiredly.

"Sorry", said M'Elise. "This ship is locked down so tight it would let you blow it up before it let through an uncredited transaction. How about 'Taxes on behalf of the Empress'?"

"Sure, whatever", said the voice.

"Sorry about that. If you think it's bad robbing us, you should try working here!" There was no return laughter. "Contract coming through."

"Contract? What's all this?"

"I told you, it's the auditing software. I'm supposed to advise you to read all the fine print before signing. But I won't time your response."

"If I sign this, we get the money?"

"Yes."

"Signed."

"Got it. It's been a pleasure..." she started, but the line was cut.

The rest of the bridge looked at her aghast. But Joey beamed at her. "Mommy pulled a fast one!" he said admiringly.

"How did you know that?" she asked.

"Mommy say 'contract'" Joey nodded sagely. "Mommy say contract make everyone play fair."

"Yes, indeed", said M'Elise, staggering up again. But only after Aiden had 'shut down his board'. "However, before they notice, we should refuel and jump on. Nav?"

The navigator blinked, looked at his board, the screen, and back again. "What did you do?"

"The Empress hasn't collected taxes in this sector in a century. She just reserves the right to do so. We'll get a refund in a few weeks after the transaction hits sector central accounting", she said smugly.

"So, our paycheck is safe?"

"Only if you get us fueled and out of here before they notice", she warned.

He leapt back to his boards.

"Fabuloso!" cheered Aiden.

M'Elise sat in the tiny officer's lounge, head pressed against a cooling pipe that ran through it. A cup of coffee clutched in one hand, and a bottle of rum next to it.

Squirrel busied herself in the kitchenette, unwrapping a breakfast bar and tending to the espresso machine.

"Feeling better?" asked M'Elise, tiredly.

"Yes!" said Squirrel. "If I catch it early, that medicine does the trick. Knocks me out for a day and a half. Looks like I missed our stop completely. Anything happen?"

M'Elise grunted and pivoted her head against the pipe. "I lost the crew."

"Again?" asked Squirrel, annoyed. "Who's flying the ship?"

"Oh, they're still here." She grinned wryly. "They wouldn't want to jump ship in that system." Her expression became neutral again. "But they'll all break contract next system."

"Oh, don't be so negative!" said Squirrel cheerily. "You don't know for sure." She paused. "Do you?"

M'Elise shifted her head again. "These pipes conduct sound wonderfully."

Squirrel's eyes widened. "Oh", she mouthed. She drank some espresso. "Can't be helped. We've dealt with crew transitions before." She sipped again. "Several times." She drained the cup. "We're well practiced!"

M'Elise pushed back from the pipe. "I should be better than this", she moaned. "What's the point in a fancy trade college degree if I can't keep a crew for more than three transitions?"

"It's not you", said Squirrel soothingly. "There's always extenuating circumstances. What was it this time?"

"Pirates shot us and held us for ransom", said M'Elise deadpan.

"See. There's nothing you could have... Wait. What?"

"It's OK. I pulled some jerk accounting move. We'll get the money back." She lifted the rum bottle to test the weight of its contents. "Just not the crew."

"Are the kids OK?" asked Squirrel, concerned.

"Sleeping happily", said M'Elise. "After two hours of bedtime stories."

Squirrel relaxed. "Well, you wouldn't have been able to run rings around the books if you didn't have that fancy trade college degree."

"True", said M'Elise, with a trace of her smug grin. "I did a real José on them."

Squirrel sighed deeply. "I miss him too." She glanced sidelong at M'Elise. "Any word?"

"Not in the last few transitions", said M'Elise. "You know how it is. We travel faster than the mail most of the time."

"Well he sounded good in that letter", Squirrel said, washing out her espresso cup. "I think."

M'Elise smiled slightly and went back to resting her head against the pipe. "He's not the most linear thinker. The best I could get out of it was that his beloved grandmother was still at death's door, he saw a funny looking chicken, and the weather had been hot."

"The kids always love his letters", said Squirrel. "It's more than I get from O'Riley", she said tightly, closing the delph cabinet with a decisive and very precise click.

"And we've got the restraining order to keep it that way", said M'Elise softly.

Different emotions floated across Squirrel's face. "I just wish..."

"The world was different", said M'Elise, cutting her off. "But it isn't. So, we have to do the best we can with this one."

"As long as we can keep replacing the crew every few calamities", said Squirrel, with an edge to her voice.

"We could pick better ones", said M'Elise, opening her eyes and glaring at Squirrel. "Based on qualifications, not looks."

"Or price", snarled Squirrel.

M'Elise was about to retort when there was a buzz and crackle from the baby monitor. Both fell silent and leaned anxiously forward. There was an indistinct sound of something moving, and a gurgle. After another pause, they sprang into action, activating the wall screen and filling it with data and feeds.

Squirrel tapped into an infrared monitor. "Aiden's pulled his covers off again."

"His heart rate is fine", said M'Elise, reading a string of numbers. "Joey's is elevated above sleep median", She pointed at a trend line.

Squirrel panned and zoomed the image. "Confirmed. He's our gurgler. I've got lip movement."

"Patching in linguistics", said M'Elise. "70% confidence lip reading result: 'But it's mine'."

"Ah, that dream", said Squirrel. "I can start the lullaby in gradual ramp-up."

"Go with the heartbeat", said M'Elise. "Mix in 30% engine thruster noise."

"Will do", said Squirrel. "Ramp up set to one hundred and twenty breaths."

"I'll get Aiden's blanket", said M'Elise. "Elevating temperature in line with loss of surface coverage."

"Good catch", said Squirrel, finishing her audio programming.

They watched intently until the remote vital sign monitoring returned to the median state. They then flipped the monitor off and high-fived each other.

"That deserves a double espresso", said Squirrel, getting up and opening the delft cabinet again.

"I'll join you", said M'Elise, stowing the rum bottle. "My own heart rate is too elevated to sleep. And I should start synchronizing my sleep schedule with the rest for transition."

After many gurgles and splutters, they sat sipping generous espresso.

"What are we going to do about the crew?" asked Squirrel quietly.

"Hire a new one", said M'Elise. After a pause, "But maybe we should offer higher than lower quartile wages for grade."

"We can focus on how good a fit they will be instead of just how good they will be" added Squirrel.

M'Elise nodded morosely.

They clunked their espresso cups together and drained them.

"I see your license is in order", said M'Elise in the interview room they rented in the next port. "You've done some good work." She leaned forward. "How do you feel about children?"

"They're great deep roasted, with some seasoning and oil!" His laugh faltered in the stony silence. "It was a joke."

"So, I like your references", said Squirrel. "And you've got quite a lot of relevant experience." She flipped through the resume. "What about family? Do you have any? Ever think of having any?"

"No", he said, perplexed. "Do I look like a nutcase? You can't have a family and work on a starship. It just doesn't make any sense."

Squirrel stared at him icily for several moments. "Well, thank you for your time."

"No!" said another recruit in exasperation. "I have not worked with children. No, I do not want to work with children. Am I even in the right job interview? I don't think you need a navigator, I think you need a nanny."

He stormed out.

"He had a big nose", said Aiden. They were all back on the ship reviewing the recordings of the interviews. "Thank you for your contribution", he added angrily, pointing toward the door.

M'Elise raised her eyebrow and Squirrel cradled her head in her hands. "I even put family friendly ship in the advert. Are we the only people in space with kids?"

Joey was running around the small room with a replica of their ship taunting imaginary traffic wardens. "It's a topic that was strangely absent in trade school", mused M'Elise.

"Like sex education on Cincin", muttered Squirrel. She helped Aiden blow his nose. "Remember we searched the Comas upport from top to bottom and couldn't find diapers?"

"I still send an Arbor Day card every year to that cleaning room woman who smuggled some over the extrality line", said M'Elise. She shook her head. "It's like they think we sprout full grown out of power capacitors. Not exactly a family friendly industry."

"Then we have to make it so!" said Squirrel, straightening her shoulders and slamming her fist onto the table.

"How?" asked M'Elise.

Squirrel slumped. "I don't know."

They scanned back through the interviews again. Partially to see if anything was salvageable and partially to amuse the kids.

"Maybe that last guy was right", said Squirrel, tapping her finger on her cheek. "Can we spring for a nanny?"

M'Elise furrowed her brow. "There really isn't a position for that on a ship of this configuration."

"We're the owners", said Squirrel. "We can make any position we want."

"No, no, it's not that", said M'Elise. "It's that ships are generally designed to meet a certain goal. A certain class requires certain personnel by law, and just enough staterooms are built in to accommodate those staff." To illustrate her point, she reached out with both arms to touch the sides of the room. "There's no wasted space in a starship."

"We squeezed the kids in", said Squirrel. "And without even slinging hammocks like we did on the Narcissus."

"Well..." said M'Elise. "As owners we don't have to allocate ourselves regulation quarters. But do you really want to give up our cabins and bunk together in hammocks?"

"Hmm", said Squirrel. "That wouldn't work." She watched the kids for a bit. "What _is_ the regulation cabin for a nanny?"

M'Elise activated the wall console. "I was just about to say, 'there isn't one'. But in the big bureaucratic galaxy I figured that was impossible." And, after a few minutes, she had the relevant sections of The Code enlarged on the wall.

"I don't know what this means", said Squirrel. "They sleep with the kids?"

"That's for a crèche", said M'Elise. "But, yes, this is a little more convoluted than a normal rating. But we know we have max two children, we don't want the nanny to sleep with them (or us). So that cuts out a lot of the verbiage designed to thwart people trying to tax evade by 'employing' their mother."

"Gods forbid", said Squirrel, shuddering.

M'Elise pulled up a floorplan and started moving partitions around. "We'd have to give up the officer's lounge and go back to doing mess with the crew."

"Well", said Squirrel, "less awkward than when we were breastfeeding."

"And if we each cut a few cubits of space, we could bump out a kid's room, with access to ours and a half cabin for the nanny." She ran a few diagnostics. "No heuristical code violations. So that's my first objection dealt with."

"You have more?" asked Squirrel.

"Cost. It's another mouth to feed and paycheck to make." She shrugged. "It's going to cut into our margins."

Squirrel folded her arms. "You managed to turn a profit on that tiny Narcissus. And dumped that for enough to get that packet. And we made enough on _that_ to trade up to this. Don't tell me you can't find high margin cargo for this."

"Those were passenger ships", said M'Elise, a bit testy, but still somewhat flattered. "And we all swore never to run passengers after that lovely experience." She sighed and looked aside. "Yes. I can do it. Bit it means riskier cargoes and dodgier ports. The crew all nearly peed themselves at the last batch, and they were just commerce raiders."

"Ex-crew", reminded Squirrel. "Trust me, I can play that up in the job advert. Life of adventure and all that. They'll knock down our door to join."

"Fine, fine", said M'Elise. "Technically it's not a ship expense anyway. It's a personal expense that comes out of our share, not ship's profit." She watched the kids. "And what's the damn money for but for the kids."

"That's the attitude!" said Squirrel, grinning.

"Next objection", said M'Elise. Squirrel stopped smiling. "Simple logistics. Who can we possibly hire to fill this position?" Squirrel looked confused. "We both agreed not to hire any women on the ship." Squirrel nodded. "Finding a male nanny... that's a rare thing. And, I don't know about you, finding a male nanny totally into kids... well I don't know if that's the sort of person I'd want around my child. It would be a bit creepy."

"True", said Squirrel slowly. "What if he was gay?"

M'Elise blinked several times. "What?"

"You know: a guy who's into guys rather than girls" explained Squirrel. "Caring, nurturing, 100% won't hit on us... much lower creep factor."

"Um", said M'Elise. "How are we going to do that? We can't exactly put that question on an application. I don't know how many rules that would break."

"You found a way to keep us clear not hiring women. You can do this." Squirrel winked. "Leave the application to me. I know all the code words."

"I don't think I want to know why you know", said M'Elise.

"Next objection?" asked Squirrel.

M'Elise shook her head. "That's it. Let's do it."

Squirrel looked surprised. "Really? I just thought you were against the whole idea."

M'Elise shrugged. "I was against it for very specific reasons. You found a way to address them all. I have no reason to be against it anymore."

Squirrel looked at her suspiciously. "You aren't going to get all passive-aggressive on me and blame me when this all goes sideways?"

"Everything we do ends up going sideways eventually", M'Elise laughed. "I'll be too busy digging us out to blame anyone."

"Well", said Squirrel, "OK then."

"So, Bikash?" said M'Elise. They were back in the rented office on the dockside. She and Squirrel both wore their ship uniforms. Joey had on overalls with a captain's hat and rubber boots with colorful rodents' pictures on them. Aiden wore his own version of the ship's uniform with an army of makeshift medals pinned to the lapels and a toy sword stuck into his belt.

"Yes", said the man. He was thin, tall, with ebony skin and a shaved head. He looked at them coolly.

"Thank you for applying for the position", said M'Elise. "And for coming to the upport."

Joey, who had been running around the comparatively large space of the room, crashed headlong into M'Elise and theatrically sprawled on the table. "Mommy! Mommy!" he cried.

"What is it boo-boo?" M'Elise said, sighing.

"I need fuel."

"Sorry about this", she apologized to the unperturbed Bikash. She stuck her finger in Joey's ear and started making glug-glug noises.

"We always seek to employ the best and most qualified on the José Fabuloso", said Squirrel, picking up. Bikash raised an eyebrow. "We're an independent trader and treat our own crew as an extension of our family..."

"Mom", interrupted Aiden in an urgent whisper. "I need go potty."

"Again?" said Squirrel, derailed. "You just went."

"It's so big!" he said, wide-eyed. Squirrel looked nervously from him to M'Elise.

Bikash bent over and looked Aiden in the eye. "Young man", he said in a deep baritone. "Would you believe me if I told you that all rooms are larger with your eyes closed?"

Aiden looked at him skeptically, then closed his eyes. "Hey Mom!" he said after a moment waving his hands around. "He's right!" He then began to wander around the room flailing about.

Joey looked on curiously. "Can I try that too?" he asked.

"You may", said Bikash cautiously. "As long as you do not stick your elbow in your ear."

Joey immediately started twisting and bending his arms in vain, trying to put his elbow in his ear.

"Maybe now we can finish in peace", said Bikash.

"I'm not sure we need to", said Squirrel in wonderment.

"You're hired", pronounced M'Elise.

"So, everyone, welcome", said M'Elise. The new crew had assembled in the cargo hold. There were one or two containers locked down, but the rest of the wide space was empty, leaving plenty of room for the half dozen crew and a pair of scooters in a corner.

"Since you are all new to the José Fabuloso, we're going to take it easy for our first run. Just a standard mail contract. Mostly data, not much hard copy." She gestured to the mostly empty hold. "We'll take a loss on this, but we ran your contracts up for code standard salary rather than profit share, so that's our problem, not yours. But we should be able to amortize the loss as a training in lieu..."

Squirrel, who had been standing to her left gave a slight nudge and coughed.

"Um, sparing you the details. Yes, a nice easy run before we look for something bigger." She nodded to Squirrel.

"Hi, I'm Squirrel, if you remember me. As crew I'm just the comms officer and trainee scan-tech, but as a co-owner I'm head of personnel. So, if you have any personal problems... I mean personnel problems... I'm the one to talk to."

"Any questions before we get to the duty roster?" asked M'Elise.

One hand went up. "Captain, at what rate will we accrue shore leave?"

"You are under standard code contracts. So, everything is by the book. We can negotiate later", said M'Elise. "Oh, and I'm not the Captain." She indicated a portrait of José that was displaying on the big monitor. "Our Captain is currently on sabbatical. I'm the executive officer and you can address me as XO, or just X."

"You're a lot better looking than my ex", laughed one of them.

A wave of annoyance passed over M'Elise's face and she opened her mouth. Before she could say anything there was a slight burble of sound from Squirrel's wrist, which she was suddenly watching intently.

"Are they all right?" M'Elise asked in a whisper, which, nonetheless, echoed quite clearly in the empty space.

"I'm not sure", said Squirrel, pivoting her watch to see everything from all angles.

M'Elise's hands twitched and she looked towards the nearest monitor's controls. "Um, one moment", she said to the waiting crew.

Squirrel held the device up to her ear and concentrated. "It's OK. Just his 'happy capybara' noise. He's not being strangled."

"Any more questions?"

M'Elise drummed her fingers on the tabletop. Squirrel got up, went to the espresso machine, stopped and sat down again.

"What..." started Squirrel.

"Four minutes, twenty seconds", said M'Elise.

"But we're both off shirt. Why won't he..." started Squirrel.

"Every time I open a chat window he says 'no' and closes it before I can type anything", said M'Elise.

"I guess if he can corral our two little monsters, he can handle us easy", grumbled Squirrel.

"He's doing what we've paid him to do, not what we want him to do", said M'Elise. "It's very audit frustrating."

"What if they're traumatized?" asked Squirrel.

"Then we space him", said M'Elise.

Squirrel blinked. "That seems a bit drastic."

"I'm in a drastic mood", growled M'Elise.

The door swished open, nineteen seconds early.

"Mommy!" came two shouts, and small bodies tumbled across the small room into their Mother's arms waving small bits of paper covered in glitter, faux hair in unnatural colors, and bright lines.

"Darling!" cooed Squirrel, clutching Aiden in a death hug. M'Elise embraced Joey more loosely, feeling him all over for broken bones and bruises.

"Look what I made you!" cheered Joey, holding his creation a few centimeters from M'Elise's face.

"My", said M'Elise, leaning back so she could see it. "That's quite a few eyes, boo-boo." Several dozen googly eyes stared back at her from improbable locations.

"It's an inspector", said Joey proudly. "It's going to audit you." He jiggled the paper and made the eyes bounce.

"I made a con-man", said Aiden, trying to peel his page off Squirrel's chest, where her hug had plastered it with the aid of the not quite dry glue.

"How... lovely", said Squirrel, trying to unstick the faux fur from her cleavage and put it back on the page.

"Today we were making 'scary things'" said Bikash, from the doorway, where he leaned against the frame.

"Inspectors can be... very scary", said M'Elise, drawing back once more as Joey rattled it in her face.

"Tomorrow we're going to space him!" said Joey with glee.

"Out the airlock!" cheered Aiden, waving the half dry paper about.

The women looked at Bikash, horrified. "It is a cleansing ritual of my people", said Bikash, unabashed. "A little updated for the circumstances."

"Airlocks are very dangerous things, in transition", sputtered M'Elise.

"Duh", said Joey. "We're not going to use the _real_ airlock, Mommy." He sighed with exasperation.

"We made our own one", proclaimed Aiden proudly. "Right over the recycling bin."

Squirrel started breathing again. "I guess that's all right then."

M'Elise smiled weakly. "Are you sure it is up to code?" she asked.

"We're going to get 'spector to inspect it before we space him", said Joey.

"Con-man made a certificate for him to sign", added Aiden.

"They have been _very_ busy", said Bikash. "If you are satisfied that all fingers and toes are present, I will do a little cleaning up and go off-duty."

"Uh, OK", said Squirrel. "Thanks!"

"Byeeee!" cheered the two boys.

Bikash nodded curtly and the door swished shut.

"Boo-boo?" asked M'Elise, holding Joey closely after the door had shut. "Was Mr. Bikash... scary?"

Joey looked at her, confused, then brightened. "Oh, yes!"

"It was awesome!" chimed in Aiden. "His eyes got really big and his cheeks puffed out."

Both of them mimed this and shook their faces and blew air through their lips.

"It's what we're gonna do when we put the scary things in the airlock", said Joey. "Then we don't have to be scared of them."

"That's, um, healthy?" said Squirrel, looking quizzically at M'Elise.

M'Elise shrugged. "It's a novel approach."

The Inspector and The Con-Man were stuck to the wall out of the way. Then they got about to heating up dinner.

"I don't want it!" insisted Joey.

"You wanted it when we bought it", said M'Elise.

"I don't want it!" repeated Joey.

"You wanted it when I asked you if I should open it", said M'Elise.

"I! Don't! Want! It!" shouted Joey.

"That's fine", said M'Elise, matter of factly. "You can just sit there and stare at it for me."

"I want more!" said Aiden, slightly muffled by the food in his mouth.

"Finish eating those, and I'll steam some more", said Squirrel. Aiden attempted to stuff as many in his mouth as possible.

Pausing to chew for a while, Aiden started eyeing the colored squares on Joey's plate.

Joey moved the plate closer. Aiden tried to say something, but still had too much in his mouth. Joey moved the plate again and started protectively consuming its contents.

Squirrel and M'Elise watched the interplay. Poised to intervene but pausing to observe.

"I'm finding this less exasperating than usual" said Squirrel, cautiously.

M'Elise nodded, watching the kids negotiate dinner table territory. "It's amazing how not having to look after the kids all day gives you the energy to look after the kids all night.'

Food was finished, faces were wiped, stories were read, and children tucked into bed. They returned to dive upon their children's unfinished dinner and whatever leftovers they felt inspired to reheat.

"Well", said Squirrel tiredly, "we survived the first day."

The monitor crackled, and they both froze for a moment. Then relaxed again as the silence resumed.

"Yes", said M'Elise eventually. "This could work."

"I can't say I'm wild about sleeping in hammocks", said Squirrel. "In the same room", she continued after a point. "But it could be worth it."

M'Elise nodded. "It's gonna hit our bottom line", she sighed. "But we can compensate in what cargo and routes we choose to take."

"Riskier routes?" asked Squirrel. "More pirates?"

"That's one option", said M'Elise. "But there's another option."

"Just about anything has got to be better than being shot at", said Squirrel. "Right?" she added after a pause.

"I was thinking we could take a long-haul contract", said M'Elise. When squirrel looked quizzical, she continued. "It's where we take on a shipment to be transported several transitions for a fixed price. It doesn't pay more than individual transition shipment. But since we know where we're going, and we cut our out-of-transition time to refueling only, we can make more money for our time spent."

Squirrel nodded slowly. "So... no shore leave. That's the downside."

"Yes", said M'Elise. "For maybe two months."

Squirrel rested her head in her hands. "Yeah."

M'Elise shrugged. "No shopping. No speculative trade. Sometimes no docking if we find an orbital fuel trader" said M'Elise. "That really saves a lot of time."

"Do you think the crew will go for it?" asked Squirrel.

"They haven't accrued a lot of leave time yet anyway", said M'Elise. "Their contract covers it and as long as we give them a bonus and chance to spend their leave at the end, it shouldn't be too bad."

Squirrel nodded. "So, what aren't you telling me? You've got this 'but there's more' expression on your face. What am I missing?"

M'Elise sighed. "Well... the most lucrative contracts go for major ports to small, less travelled ports."

"So, we might get stuck on a backward nowhere planet with no goods to trade?" asked Squirrel.

M'Elise shrugged again. "It has to go both ways. Less stuff to ship, but less ships travelling there. You can usually find something."

"So, what then?" asked Squirrel.

"Well the backward, nowhere planet that offers the best deal, 20% above market, is... the one you grew up on", said M'Elise, biting her lip.

Squirrel's face remained blank. "Cincin. I did kind of never want to go back there", she said.

"It's a planet side port", said M'Elise. "There would be no hiding on the station."

"I couldn't not see her", said Squirrel, with no emotion.

"You've been exchanging letters", said M'Elise. "It's gone well."

"She's sixteen", said Squirrel. "I haven't seen her in over half my life. All of hers."

"Look", said M'Elise gently, "I'm the last person in the world to extol the virtues of family. But you aren't me. You _want_ to meet her."

"I do", said Squirrel, looking down. "I'm just afraid."

M'Elise reached out and touched her hand. "Yes.", she said simply.

"What if..." started Squirrel.

"What if not?" interrupted M'Elise. "You know, it could go well"

"But what if..."

"What if?" said M'Elise. "So, you have an extremely awkward, painfully embarrassing, encounter you regret, and we sail out of port never to return. If that's the worst outcome, you can grit your teeth and bear it, and never have to worry about 'what if' again."

Squirrel straightened. "I guess it can't be worse than my school reunion. That's what sent me into space and a career as a stripper."

M'Elise sighed deeply. "Well, it's a good six transitions to Cincin. That's a lot of time cooped up in the ship to be consumed by angst, doubt and self-recrimination, and insecurity."

"So, you're saying we should stock up on liquor and chocolate?" asked Squirrel.

"No, that'll be for me", said M'Elise pulling up a monitor. "For you I think it would be an excellent opportunity to work on your next levels of certification. I've picked out the next level of Commo, then Mediation and Scan Tech."

"That's rather a lot", said Squirrel without enthusiasm.

"It'll keep you busy", said M'Elise. "And it's all coursework, electronically graded. Even Cincin can register the results without administering an exam."

"Three whole certifications?" said Squirrel. "In six weeks? That would be awesome."

M'Elise nodded. "I'll prep the contract, break it to the crew, and find something to keep myself equally busy."

"Isn't this one the cutest?" cooed Squirrel, holding up a small puddle of fuzz with large eyes.

M'Elise eyed it dispassionately. "That is not a cat." She narrowed her eyes. "Actually, I have no idea what it is. Just that it is not a cat."

"But it's so cute!" she squealed.

"I suspect it emits pheromones", said M'Elise. "To boost sales."

"Then why don't they work on you?" asked Squirrel, annoyed.

"Meow" commented Bikash. "Now _that_ was catty."

"Mommy not cat! Mommy squirrel!" said Aiden.

"You're very cute too", said Squirrel, patting Aiden's hand. He then made buck teeth, hunched up his hands, and went hopping through the pet store. Squirrel's smile vanished.

"I think the cats are in the back", said M'Elise. "To the left of the paint slugs over there."

"Paint slugs?" asked Squirrel.

"They've got a genetic disposition for symmetry", said M'Elise in passing. "Dip them in paint, stick them on the walls, and they create an ever-changing mural to delight your passengers."

"Oooh, that sounds nice", said Squirrel.

"It is, but we don't have passengers to delight. And unless you buy special hypo-allergenic paint, they drop dead from paint toxins."

"Now if they have slugs that would scrub kid's fingerprints off the walls..." said Bikash.

They moved carefully through the crowded isles of the shop. Like most shops servicing the shipping industry, it was utilitarian in character with the flashiness confined to distributer provided displays and packaging. Many shelves contained a product name, and several scan codes for quantity.

"What's that?" asked Joey. The two children were stopped at a brightly lit shelf covered in a spiky green fuzz.

"That is called grass", said Bikash, bending down to their level. "It is like carpet, but it grows. What do you think makes it grow?"

Joey shrugged. "I don't know."

"Guesses are free", said Bikash.

"Fruit and vegetables!" said Aiden.

"That is for animals", said Bikash. "This type of animal is called a plant." He bent closer. "Now look. The answer must be here, because it could not live here without it."

The kids peered closely, and hesitantly looked through the blades.

"Dirt?" asked Joey hesitantly. "It's really dirty underneath." Bikash smiled. "It eats dirt?"

"That's awesome!" said Aiden. "We'd never have to clean again!"

"That's the fruit. Can anyone find the vegetables?" asked Bikash.

"The light!" said Joey. "They eat the light too!"

"That's awesome!" said Aiden. "We'd never have to turn the lights off!"

Bikash cocked his head and looked around dramatically. "I think I hear the cats. Shall we go find them?" The kids nodded enthusiastically and ran off.

Squirrel hesitated, running her hands through the grass.

"He's worth every penny", said M'Elise.

Squirrel silently fist-bumped her. She sighed and looked at the price on the grass.

"It also cleans and filters the air", said M'Elise. "Regulates temperature and humidity. Self-cleaning, self-repairing, and increases morale according to one only slightly dubious study."

Squirrel raised her eyebrows. "You mean it isn't just a frippery to make rich passengers pay more?"

M'Elise shrugged. "You can get special nutrition, so it releases custom scents when trodden on." She ran her own fingers through it. "You need to put down special deck engineering first. That makes it an expensive investment. But it does eventually pay for itself in reduced environmental costs."

"How much of an investment?" asked Squirrel.

M'Elise nodded down the aisle. "About as much as Bikash costs in a year." Squirrel slumped. "But we wouldn't want to put it in the cargo bay, workshops, or quarters. So, it's not that big an operation."

She withdrew her hands reluctantly. "If we swing the Cincin run with our sanity intact, and with the stomach for another one, we might have enough capital for it."

"Something to look forward to, then", said Squirrel, withdrawing her hand, but scanning the code onto her wish list.

They reached the back of the shop and there was a double stack of animal cages. Several were genetic exotics, clearly meant as speculative cargo. But there were many plain cages containing less flashy animals, most of which were cats.

M'Elise methodically scanned the information card on each in turn, comparing it to her clipboard display with the same criteria.

Squirrel stopped and looked closely into one cage at eye level. It held a non-descript light great on dark grey mottled cat. It padded forward and sat right in front of her, tail curled around its paws staring at her eye to eye.

Squirrel tilted her head and cocked an eyebrow. The cat also cocked its head and swiveled one ear. Squirrel raised both eyebrows in surprise and the cat swiveled both ears forward, and lifted its head, looking levelly at her.

"I think this cat is giving me 'tude", she said.

M'Elise wandered over, gave the cat a glance, and scanned its code. She whistled softly. "Not sure we can afford this model", she said.

"Model?" asked Squirrel. "These _are_ animals, right?"

"Yeah, yeah", said M'Elise. "But pedigree is all important. This breed doesn't just hunt vermin, it can also sniff leaks of common volatiles, is sensitive to minor vacuum breaches, and stuff like that. It even has its own vacc suit it's trained to put on after a pressure loss alarm."

"It can do all that?" asked Squirrel, unbelieving. "It's just a cat." The cat looked at her, coolly.

M'Elise put her hand on the glass. "It's OK kitty", she said. "We can't afford you."

The cat licked its paws primly, sat up, and walked to the rear of the cage.

"Well..." said Squirrel, not sure if she should be offended or not.

M'Elise moved on to another cage. "This one is more our specs."

Squirrel peered in. A cat, with brindled black, orange and white fur padded forward and put one paw up against the resilient outer wall of the cage. Squirrel mirrored its action and the cat rubbed against her hand.

"Aww!" she cooed. "That's so cute!" She moved to scratch it through the pane for as much as it would give.

"Good parentage", said M'Elise, reading the data stream. "Not-pedigree, so we couldn't breed it. But we're not looking for that."

"It's the sweetest", said Squirrel, tickling its chin. "Kids!" she said, trying to draw their attention. "Kids?"

The kids were clustered around a cage along the bottom, Bikash supervising from a distance. "Mom! Come! Look at this one!" cried Aiden.

Squirrel came up and squatted. "What have you got here?" she asked.

The cat in the cage had sleek, light brown fur, with dark paws, tail tip and ear tips. It had ice blue eyes, that looked cross eyed.

It delicately stepped into a tray of loose earth and primly pawed it a few times. It lifted its tail, squatted slightly, and then pooped over the side of the tray onto the floor of its cage. It minced around a bit more and dug at the dirt, scattered it over the other edge of the cage.

"That was pretty disgusting", said Squirrel, wrinkling her nose.

"It was awesome!" said Joey in a hushed voice.

"I love him!" declared Aiden. "He's perfect!"

"He's got crossed eyes", objected Squirrel.

"We shall name you Crosby", said Joey, holding his hand up to the cage.

Crosby looked vaguely in the general direction of the kids, opened its mouth, and made a discordant noise somewhere between a meep and a wail.

"He knows his name", cheered Aiden.

Squirrel looked helplessly to M'Elise, who was thumbing through the description. "I'm impressed", she said. Squirrel looked incredulous. "I don't think I've ever seen a description so positive and upbeat yet conveying nothing." She looked at the cat, and back to the notes. "It's the most masterful attempt I've seen to dress up something utterly devoid of worth and make it seem like a bargain." She fiddled with the screen. "I've got to take a copy."

Squirrel sighed and turned back. "Listen kids, I know you like... Crosby. But..."

"No!" cried the kids together. "We want Crosby! We want Crosby!" The cat joined in with another rasping yowl.

Squirrel and M'Elise looked mournfully at each other and then at Bikash, who was leaning nonchalantly against a stack of animal feed.

"What exactly do you want a cat _for_?" he asked.

"A living creature for the kids to bond with, care for, and learn empathy from", said Squirrel.

"For the tax break", said M'Elise. "What?" she said defensively when Squirrel glared at her. "It's in the code. A ship's cat is a working animal and officially part of the crew. And a lot of our subsidies are based on head count."

Squirrel rolled her eyes but Bikash was looking pointedly at the kids. They were stroking the cat through the pliant face of the cage and it was rubbing up against them, or just bumping into the sides. It was hard to tell.

Squirrel sighed deeply.

M'Elise scanned the data again. "It's cheap", she proclaimed. "Very cheap."

"We can get it?" asked the kids, full of excitement.

Squirrel and M'Elise exchanged resigned looks, then nodded.

The kids shouted in joy.

"This is an investment you will not regret!" said Joey, with exactly the same mannerisms as M'Elise.

"Hiiiii!" said Squirrel into the camera. There was a chorus of echoing hellos from the kids at the bottom of the screen and a nonchalant wave from M'Elise who was only half in shot.

"Here we are on the main Narita concourse", Squirrel continued in a sing-song. She waved her hand and the point of view pivoted. They sat among piles of parcels and a sleeping cat in a cage next to a balcony looking over a multi-story shopping bay. Multicolored displays advertised from all levels, and people thronged the walkways and not a few flew on hoverboards in well regulated lanes. The camera panned back to the crowded table with the remains of frozen desserts on it.

"We've got a surprise", cooed Squirrel. The kids were busy with the trace remains of the dessert, and M'Elise looked politely supportive. "We're going to come visit!" There were no cheers on the crowded concourse, so Squirrel added her own. M'Elise gave the children a poke and they briefly paused the excavation to join in. "Isn't that exciting?" said Squirrel with an edge to her voice. "Aiden, have you got something to say to your sister?"

Aiden put his spoon down, looked suspiciously to make sure Joey was not going to try to take any of the fragments of the dessert clinging to his glass. Then he stood on his chair and leaned close to the camera. "We just bought a cat that poops."

The two kids dissolved into laughter and collapsed into their chairs.

"We also bought some litter trays", volunteered M'Elise.

"So..." said Squirrel, trying to regain momentum. "We just took a long-haul contract from here straight to Cincin, so we should be there in six weeks or so."

"From now", said M'Elise. "But not from when she gets this."

"Oh yeah", said Squirrel. "I'll be studying for my next cert in Commo. I covered this. Since mail is sent by ship, it only travels as fast as a ship. So..." Squirrel turned to M'Elise. "How is she going to get this before we get there?"

M'Elise shrugged. "I told you to send this right after we docked. She'll probably get it a few days before we get there."

"Right", said Squirrel. "Messages go to the next outbound ship. And although we'll be going direct, we still have to stop for fuel and if any maintenance comes up." She nodded for a bit trying to think of what else to say. "So, you should come and visit, and see the ship. I'll wire some money so you can catch a monorail to the spaceport."

M'Elise leaned forward. "I've attached a H12B form, pre-filled with the ship's ident. Just fill in the rest and submit it and it will get you past the extrality line."

"So, yay!" said Squirrel, clapping her hands again. "We're all looking forward to seeing you! Byeeee!" she said between gritted teeth.

"We're good", Bikash said, shutting down the camera.

"Was my makeup all right?" asked Squirrel, pulling out a mirror to check.

"As good as half an hour of work for a five-minute video will get you", said M'Elise, taking the camera back.

"Maybe we should reshoot it", said Squirrel.

"No", said M'Elise. "Sending now."

"But..." protested Squirrel.

"One ice cream keeps the kids still", said Bikash, "two sends them crazy."

Squirrel bit her lip. "Good point."

Bikash dusted himself off. "Very well. I shall be off now."

"Oh! Thank you so much!" said Squirrel.

"Yes, we really appreciate you doing this during your last leave", added M'Elise.

"That was the deal", said Bikash. "I get no duty for the last eight hours of leave, and I get to be half an hour late."

"Yes", said M'Elise. "Cryptic. But agreed."

Bikash flashed them a broad smile. "I've got hearts to crush." Then he bent down to the kid's level. "You two. Be good for your parents. Or Mr. Green Beans will be very disappointed in you when I return." He strode off briskly without another word.

M'Elise and Squirrel stared after him for a while. They looked at each other and sighed.

"He's great with the kids", said M'Elise.

"And seriously scary otherwise", finished Squirrel. They drank the last of their fruity drinks through the straw-cum-parasol.

"Are we doing the right thing?" asked Squirrel.

M'Elise shrugged. "We won't know till they are 21 and we get the therapy bill." Squirrel rolled her eyes. "I think we're trending toward doing 75% of the right things."

"That is such an accountant thing to say!" said Squirrel. She looked despondently into her empty drink. "Yet... strangely comforting." M'Elise watched her silently as she pushed some waterlogged fruit around the bottom of her glass. "I mean. We can't make right decisions all the time, right? If we aim for perfection, we'll go insane. But if we stop caring about if we're wrong or right, then that would be a disaster. So... aiming for a certain percentage of correct decisions... makes a kind of sense. And 75%..." Squirrel waved her hands vaguely "sounds about right."

M'Elise rubbed her forehead. "I can't believe you said that. You're starting to sound like me."

Squirrel snorted. "OK. Let me say something flighty, vain and airheaded. Will that make you feel better?"

M'Elise shook her head. "No, I just want you to be you." Squirrel looked at her skeptically. "I think things through. I look at things closely. I plan meticulously." Squirrel tapped her finger nail against her glass. "But I miss things. Like the human element." She waved at the kids, still fixated on separating the last molecule of sugar from their glasses. "Raising a kid isn't like balancing a ledger. It requires skills that, frankly, I'm not good at. You provide contrast. You call me short when I get too deep trying to solve all my problems with the same hammer."

Squirrel pursed her lips. "I don't think I've ever heard you praise my parenting style before."

M'Elise shrugged and started collecting the detritus from the table. "I know how hard sending that video was for you. I figured now was a good time to say what I've been meaning to say for a while."

Squirrel started to help. "Thank you. Maybe I should do a unit on therapy."

M'Elise considered. "It's got to be in the code somewhere. I mean, if we do many of these six week no stop runs all cooped up in minimal regs boxes, it seems only right to have a shipboard resource to screw our brains back together."

"I'm not done!" protested Aiden.

Squirrel examined the glass, scoured till almost gleaming. "I think you are, my child."

"Where is Bikash?" asked M'Elise aloud.

She stood on the dockside in front of the sealed José Fabuloso. The lifelines, power feeds, and data cables had all been disconnected and stowed away. Cargo was cleared and the loading bay was even swept. The crew had complained about that, but Narita liked clean and tidy and M'Elise was glad she ordered it. It might have taken off some of the chilly politeness in the dock official who sat in his little run-a-bout parked just the other side of the inner dock door. M'Elise glanced nervously at the time readout on her clipboard. It ticked down to the next time increment where she knew he would get up, calmly walk over to her and politely, ever so politely, inquire if there was any service, he, in the personage of Narita Station, could provide in their departure. And then gently, regretfully, remind her of the fees they would be forced to charge for overstaying a berth in such a busy port. M'Elise was already rehearsing her answers, trying to remember the next inflection of respect to add above her reply from last time.

Another run-a-bout pulled up, to collect the recyclables, and parked on the other side of the dock next to the one that was there to clean the already clean deck, which was next to the one that was there to refill the dockside consumables. The driver checked the time, looked at the other drivers, and engaged the parking brake.

M'Elise sighed deeply as she saw the official straighten his lapels and prepare to leave his run-a-bout when one of the bright green bags rolled off the back of the recently arrived maintenance vehicle. It unrolled, dusted itself off, and took the form of a chipper Bikash, moving with a quick step towards the ship's airlock.

"Bikash!" cried M'Elise, half in anger and half in relief.

There were three more cries across the dockside, although of different names. Three of the people who M'Elise had taken for loungers had started towards their berth. One wore a uniform.

"XO", said Bikash, and slipped past her into the ship.

M'Elise turned, bowed formally, and as quickly as decorum allowed, to the official and began to seal the lock as the cries for Bikash grew louder.

"Bikash", said M'Elise sharply, as the lock cycled. "When you said you would be late, I didn't think you meant late fee disgruntled starport official late."

"You can take the fee out of my pay", he said.

M'Elise fumed. "First: we don't pay you enough for that. Second: we missed getting fined by a whisker."

Bikash smiled broadly and stepped through the inner door as it opened. "I guess I'll carry on looking after your lovely kids."

He swung down the corridor leaving M'Elise tapping her foot.

Small puffy clouds made their way across a bright blue sky. Birdsong and the sounds of crickets accompanied the tableau.

"I think that one looks like an iguana", said M'Elise. "Or maybe an Anhinga Mark II cutter."

"Wow", said Joey, watching its slow trajectory.

"That one looks like poop", said Aiden.

"I'd have to agree", said Squirrel. "Having changed enough of your diapers."

"And flushed enough of your precious treasures away after you've forgotten", muttered M'Elise.

"It's so blue!" said Joey. "I could almost touch it." He reached his hand up from where he was laying.

"Hold my milk", said Aiden. He stood up and rapped his knuckles on the ceiling. The clouds distorted around his hand as it got between the projector and the roof.

"Wow" said Joey. "Now it looks like the Dhole of Night is swallowing it!" Aiden started to make growling and slathering noises.

Squirrel joined in with a crash and tinkle.

"Ah", said M'Elise. "The sound of illusion shattering." They exchanged resigned looks.

They lay on top of a half-sized cargo container. It was the only open space left in the hold. On top of this they had spread out a blanket and some picnic food. The projector sat in the corner beaming the illusionary sky barely an arm's length above them.

"Well, we tried to indoctrinate them into the whole planetary nostalgia thing", said Squirrel. Both kids were making shadow monsters now and chasing clouds. "Not that I ever saw a sky like this in the apartment blocks I grew up in."

M'Elise nodded. "I learned the names of 15 or so different types of rainclouds. Trondheim is seriously overcast. Three of four millennia into some terraforming project. Only twelve to go!" she added with mock cheer.

"Our kids aren't going to know any space bigger than a dockside", said Squirrel.

"Or having to wear a filter mask whenever they are outside", said M'Elise.

"They'll need an environment suit to play outside", said Squirrel. "Not that I ever got to play outside at all."

"Outside is overrated", said M'Elise. She switched the projector to a fantastical landscape, with comets, meteors, and living constellations. The kids cheered.

Squirrel watched for a while, smiling at some of the kid's antics. "I guess you can paint whatever you want on the backdrop of ship life."

"Our only duty", said M'Elise, "is to ensure our kids grow up less screwed up than we are."

"That's a pretty low bar", said Squirrel.

"What can I say?" said M'Elise. "I like easy to accomplish goals."

They tried a few more settings on the projector, eventually settling on some riotously colored jungle canopy that reacted as the kids tried to touch it, revealing different wide-eyed vistas. It seemed order dependent and the kids were drawn in to trying to unlock new secrets, with occasional suggestions from the adults.

The effort was joined with a grating yowl as Crosby the cat leaped to the top of the canister. He stared at the spectacle with eyes as wide as they could go while crossed. Occasional squawk like sounds came from his throat as his tail twitched. From this they worked out the screens also responded to sound. The kids embraced this imitating both the jungle noises and Crosby.

"I think Crosby has done the best of anyone adjusting to this long-haul trip", said Squirrel. "Everyone's bored so he's getting a lot of attention."

"The band the lads put together seems popular", said M'Elise. "Kind of rough. But they're going to have plenty of time to practice."

"I think Bikash has some sort of card pool going. But it seems to evaporate whenever I pass by", said Squirrel.

"I think we're going to have to watch that one closely", said M'Elise. "Still. He's good with kids. I can't argue that."

They watched the kids for a while. They had discovered that flatulent noises had a specific effect on the scenery and were exploring that with much gusto. The cat had curled up and gone to sleep on top of Squirrel's clipboard. She made a half-hearted attempt to extract it but gave up when the cat gave her a half lidded bewildered cross-eyed expression.

"I guess my studies can wait", sighed Squirrel. "This is supposed to be family time."

M'Elise self-consciously put down her own clipboard. "Are the studies serving their purpose?"

Squirrel shrugged and began absently petting the cat. "The scanner course is like playing some sort of space shooter game. It's weird. And the mediation one is very frustrating. There are two different instructors who don't agree on anything and spend more time arguing with each other than teaching me. It's all I can do to get them to just shut up, stop arguing, and take turns presenting their views on mediation so I can actually learn the course material rather than managing their petty sensitivities. I swear, I think the AI is ratcheted a bit high on this one."

M'Elise smiled, thin lipped. "Well, I did buy the most expensive one specifically because it had the most involved AI. We were lucky to be able to run it without an upgrade."

"Well I suggest you get your money back", said Squirrel in frustration. "I spend more time getting the two instructor personalities to work together than I spend learning about... mediation..." She pursed her lips and gave M'Elise a sidelong look. "That's pretty damn sneaky", she said at last.

"It only catches you the first time", said M'Elise. "After that you recognize when they do little tricks like that."

Squirrel wagged her fingers. "I figured the scan thing was some sort of training game. But... very sneaky."

"Sounds like they are serving their purpose", said M'Elise. "You haven't mentioned Cincin once."

"Oh god!" said Squirrel. "You're right. I forgot!"

"Good", said M'Elise. "Because there is nothing you can do about it."

"But I haven't even thought through what to say to her! Where are we going to meet? What are we going to do together?" Squirrel's voice rose in panic.

"See?" said M'Elise.

"No, I don't", said Squirrel testily. "How can I do this if I'm not in the right headspace? I need to..."

"What exactly do you need?" M'Elise interrupted. "There is nothing you can do about it", she said with emphasis.

"Of course there is!" insisted Squirrel. "I can visualize. I can anticipate. I can think through all the things I could say. I can think through all the things I should say. I can think through all the things I shouldn't say." She paused for breath. "I can worry. I can fret. I can gnaw my fingernails to the bone. I can fill my mind with things I know I'm going to forget and that I know won't make any difference because I remember what _I_ was like at that age and I damn well didn't listen to anyone and I had no respect for anyone and that's exactly what she's going to do to me."

Squirrel wound down and sat there breathing heavily, eyes dry. The children played on, heedless, adsorbed in the precision of making their noises.

"Well that was a lot more self-aware than I anticipated", said M'Elise, dryly. "I'm impressed."

"I leveled up", said Squirrel, calmer. "I've got him." She nodded at Aiden. "I've got this ship." After a long pause. "I've got you. It's like all the good parts of what a family should be. Without... well without _most_ of the screwed-up bits."

M'Elise sighed. "I guess I should thank you too." Squirrel looked quizzical. "For pulling me out of my balance sheet mentality." She shrugged. "Running a ship top down, and even solo parenting, is hierarchal and logistics heavy. I'm good at that. But I know the first time I try to pull rank on you, or god forbid your son, it would all go out the airlock fast." Squirrel nodded. "So, I can't use all of these neurological pathways that have been engraved in my brain to solve my problems my way and I have to get out of my mental rut and learn to treat people as more than complicated stimulus response machines to figure out."

Squirrel let that sit for a while. "So, I guess we're each a lot more self-aware than we give each other credit for." Then she looked suspicious. "Unless you've bought a training course in psychology."

M'Elise shook her head emphatically. "You've never been to a Trondheim therapist. You have no idea how ill suited I would be for that." She patted Squirrel's hand. "I'm leaving the soft skills to you."

"So, let me get this right", said Squirrel. " _I've_ got to get my head together, so I can get _your_ head together?"

"That's the best logistical approach", said M'Elise, shrugging.

"I hate when you make me rise to the occasion", said Squirrel.

"You do your coursework", said M'Elise. "I'll deal with your kid. I've pulled the forms for a spaceport pass, filed a flight plan for a little tour loop in the system while the crew take leave, scouted out the local multi-experience group play arcades and the best ice cream parlors."

Squirrel blinked. "That sounds nice", she said, hesitantly. "But what do I say?"

"Oh, just the usual embarrassing non-sensical stuff you normally come out with. That would be the most genuine", said M'Elise.

Squirrel sputtered and then subsided. "Well, if we're aiming to be 75% right, I guess that will do."

The rest of the long haul proceeded with only occasional incidents.

The crew band improved measurably, when they weren't fighting with one another. But Squirrel got to practice some of her mediation lessons to keep them functional, creative and prevent any blood on the walls.

And when their Navigator lost it on their last stop, resigned and demanded to be dropped at the station they were transitioning past, M'Elise was able to explain the subclauses in their contract and exactly how much money he would be leaving on the table. He judiciously decided to stick it out for the last week, earn his shore leave and bonus payment, and then see how he felt.

Bikash, well, they never worked out what he was up to. But they did work out he was up to something. Certain conversations fell silent when either of them approached. No matter how many times M'Elise adjusted the cameras there was always a blind spot the crew seemed to instinctively know about. Squirrel kept a list of deflective answers to their questions with an impressive variety and originality.

But no one seemed too upset and no one quit. (Other than the Navigator, for different reasons.) So, they let Bikash have his fun.

"Transition space exit 80% likely in the next five minutes", reported the Navigator, through gritted teeth in clipped, professional tones.

"Engines warmed up and ready for operation", reported the Helm. "Whenever reality returns." The Navigator shot him an evil glare.

"Fabulous", said M'Elise, from the central ops chair. The lights were dimmed as was the custom when there was a predicted exit into real space. Technically they could be jumping into any situation, so being quasi-combat ready made good sense, even if this was a well settled commercial hub.

The gunner sat at another console, not even concealing his boredrum. Squirrel sat on comms, anxiously refreshing the display waiting for the exit.

M'Elise surveyed the bridge and was happy. Sure, the crew was at each other's throats. And, yes, she didn't have the next six ports of call planned. But they had a full hold of goods with a guaranteed price. Their margins were reasonably good. The crew was reasonably competent. And present. Just about everything they were taught to seek at the Merchant Academy was there, or in progress. Life was good. At least for this microsecond.

"Entry", called out Navigation, heralding a flurry of activity. "System beacon received."

"Bringing trim into line with approach lanes", called the pilot. "Looks like we pick up some Barbarissi torque from the transitional interface. Correcting."

"Nothing that can even remotely be construed as a hostile on scan", said the Gunner. "Putting turret into standby." He picked up a book.

Almost like a well-oiled machine, mused M'Elise. Then she glanced at Comms. "Has system control given us a call sign and lane?" And after a pause, "Squirrel?"

Squirrel looked up with a start. "Oh. Sorry." She focused a background screen. "Um, yeah. Looks like they have us pre-registered."

"Send it to my console", said M'Elise. "You go back to incoming mail."

Squirrel smiled guiltily. "Thanks."

M'Elise typed rapidly. "Lane 37 to orbital injection, gap 12 band C. On your screen now."

"Acknowledged", said the Navigator. "Plotting course."

"They've got a de-orbit scheduled, an hour or so after that. But once you've got that plotted and over to Helm, please compute a direct atmospheric insertion from approach and I'll request it as an alternative. I'm sure we'd love to get gear on ground an hour and a half sooner."

"Well done", said the Navigator. "It could save a life."

M'Elise ignored that and set about the simple bureaucratic stuff. Pre-paying the ground crew, tip included, was always worth it. Formal pleasantries to the stationmaster never went astray. And a general call for tenders set everyone's expectations.

When the paperwork was done, she walked over to Squirrel's station. "Has she responded?" M'Elise asked quietly.

"Yes', said Squirrel, hesitantly. "The return receipt is there. She got our message three days ago."

M'Elise whistled. "That's pretty good, given how tight we cut our transitions. One congested system and it may have come in on our arrival."

"She responded right away", said Squirrel.

"What did she say?" asked M'Elise in exasperation.

"I'm... not quite sure", said Squirrel. "She said 'eclectic', spelled with a '3' and then 'I'll get everything ready!'."

M'Elise peered at the screen. "That's it?" Then she peered closer. "Is the '3' thing some sort of Cincin slang code or gang sign?"

Squirrel shrugged. Then she perked up. "Wait. Every starport has a public access lexicon of local terms. I learned that." She typed away at the keyboard. "I never thought I'd use it in my own world."

"Let's see how up to date it is", said M'Elise. "They're good about regs for having these things. Not so good about regs for having them up to date."

"Hmm", said Squirrel. "'Eclectic: general positive superlative.' Nothing about a three."

"I guess it was too much to hope for a dictionary of how to interpret what a teenager means", mused M'Elise.

Squirrel chewed her lip. "I guess I'll just send a 'we're here' and suggest we sync up once we've got the cargo dealt with."

"Sounds fine", said M'Elise, noticing the comm light blinking on her own board. "One step at a time. Don't overthink."

The downport had a few credit check questions, which M'Elise easily answered, as the payments were already flowing for the digital goods they brought. So, the atmospheric insertion was approved, and the crew worked with monomaniac fixation on getting them down with open airlocks.

There was enough going on with re-entry to keep the ops crew busy. Even the gunner put his book down to do some hull systems prep.

Squirrel and M'Elise kept busy, pre-clearing visas for crew so they could flee the ship with minimum chance to commit grievous bodily harm to anyone getting in their way. There were stevedores to hire to clean the cargo bay and get their time critical shipment off their deck. It was just easier to hire additional hands than to pressure the crew to do a full unload. And they had made good time and the extra cost didn't really hit their margin. This was a fairly cheap spaceport.

United in their goal of getting out of each other's presence as quickly as possible, the crew worked with preternatural efficiency. The landing gear had barely hit the deck before all clipboards had the post flight checklists flashing over them.

Squirrel was inundated with signing off completed checklists coming in thick and fast and cascading these to leave approvals. M'Elise was out with the downport's deck crew, getting the volatile lines hooked up, the cargo access open, and the handlers with the palettes and winches set for off-loading. The mood seemed somewhat infectious. As crew leave was approved, they departed like meteors, nearly incandescent with atmospheric friction at their speed of flight. As cargo sections emptied out Aiden and Joey claimed the freed space and released their own pent up energy on their scooters. Even one of the younger stevedores was caught running empty palettes down the ramp like scooters to the delight of the kids.

In record time the hold was empty, all containers passed through customs, and signed for by their receivers. M'Elise had paid off the work boss and Squirrel was just taking charge of the kids and signing Bikash out.

"That has got to be the fastest offload I've ever seen", said M'Elise.

"I'd love to discuss it over drinks after leave", said Bikash. "But right now, it's still before leave."

"Here you go", said Squirrel, and checked the last checkmark on her list. "Have fun..." she began, but he was already off, pausing only slightly to look, speculatively at the one lingering stevedore.

"It is, just a touch, depressing how eager everyone was to get the hell out of here", said Squirrel.

"Well, if it makes them more likely to come back after two weeks of leave instead of jumping ship, I can't begrudge them", said M'Elise philosophically. They watched the kids cavort for a while in the freed up space. They didn't know what the energy and excitement was about. But they were happy to participate.

Out of the corner of her eye M'Elise noticed the last stevedore hadn't left but had picked up a large duffel bag and was coming up to them. "I wonder what she wants", mused M'Elise.

Squirrel turned and locked eyes with the young woman. She was about the same height and wore baggy work clothes. Her hair was long down one side of her head, and decoratively shaven on the other side. Her visible ear was festooned with bands and hooks and some sort of applique gems glinted from her teeth as she stopped, dropped the heavy bag, and held out her arms.

"Hi mom."

They all stood in stunned silence for a few moments. Then a few moments more.

"R-R-Rose?" said Squirrel, querulously.

Rose nodded, a little sarcastically, still holding her arms out. She then grunted as Squirrel flung herself at her, nearly knocking her over with her embrace.

M'Elise reached for her clipboard, scrolled through the list of contractors, then put it down swearing softly. She turned to call for the kids, but they had already worked out something was up and had arrived looking quizzically at the scene.

Squirrel and Rose had released each other and were cooing and touching each other's faces. "I can't believe it's you!"

"Have we got another Mommy?" asked Joey.

"Not... exactly", said M'Elise.

Squirrel drew herself away, wiping her eyes and smearing her make-up. "Aiden", she said, still choked up. She drew him to her. He was looking at Rose's barbs skeptically. "Dear, this is your sister." He continued to look at her skeptically.

"Hey kiddo", said Rose, hunkering down. She gave him a playful punch in his shoulder. He drew a little behind Squirrel, who was still too choked to say much. "I know some toasty moves on the scooter", she said enticingly. "Do you want me to teach you?"

"Say yes", hissed Joey in a stage whisper. "Say yes!"

"OK", said Aiden. "But they better be... toasty."

They all laughed.

"That's Joey", introduced Squirrel. "And his Mom, M'Elise." M'Elise gave a perfunctory bow.

Rose did a sort of complicated finger snap. "Ah! The non-captain exec!" she returned the bow. "Well just tell me where to store my stuff and we'll get down to some serious scooting!"

"Well", said Squirrel reflexively and stopped, noting for the first time the large duffel she had brought.

"Stow?" questioned M'Elise, reassessing the duffel as well.

"Stuff?" asked Squirrel.

Rose looked at them, confused. "I mean, it isn't much." She gave it a kick with her foot. "But I'd rather not have it cluttering our nice clean dock. It should all be under standard crew allotment for weight and size."

"Standard crew allotment?" questioned M'Elise.

"Our dock?" said Squirrel. "Oh, Honey. We were going to fly you around a bit but..."

"But what?", said Rose, voice rising. "Fly me around for a bit and then dump me back on dock? Like unwanted garbage?"

"Not like that!" said Squirrel, tears starting again.

"We're a working ship..." said M'Elise, in something approximating a reasonable tone.

"I just worked my 20th hour on _your_ dock shifting _your_ cargo", shouted Rose. "I now qualify for a provisional cert and can intern. Don't say I can't work."

M'Elise pursed her lips. "Intern? OK. But even if we could we can't. We can barely fit in the crew we have. If we convert more cargo space to quarters, we'll blow our margin..."

"So, I sling a hammock!" Rose yelled, waving her hands about. "Interns don't' get full quarters.

M'Elise shut her mouth. Then she opened it again. And then shut it again and reached for her clipboard.

"Honey" said Squirrel between tears. "We just can't. It's not that we don't want to..."

"Then what is it?" demanded Rose. "Will the José Fabuloso, famous for collecting the strays of the galaxy, reject one of its own?"

"You're young", said Squirrel. "The galaxy is a big, nasty place..."

"And this is a dingy corner I gotta get out of", said Rose desperately. "You left when you were my age."

"I got sent back too", said Squirrel, hotly. "Twice."

"What do you want", demanded Rose. "I can hire on to any ship that will take me. Do you want that?"

"That won't end well", said Squirrel. "I don't want you to go through the crap that I went through!"

"I'm trying not to by getting the hell out of this place!" shouted Rose.

"By throwing yourself into something you aren't ready for?" shouted Squirrel back. "You need to stay, and you need to finish school."

"I'm not going to any more school than you went to", said Rose nastily. "Everyone constantly reminds me of that."

"You can't just chase a fantasy like this." Squirrel pointed at the port. "I'm not going to contribute to your delinquency. You need to learn responsibility."

"I do or you do?" said Rose. "You dumped me once and ran away and now you're gonna do it again."

Squirrel inhaled sharply and growled. "I did it for you. I'm doing it for you."

"I don't believe it." Rose threw her hands in the air. "You're going to leave me here with Nanna. With Nanna!"

Squirrel set her jaw and her eyes went ice cold. Rose breathed heavily in anger and stared back but didn't say anything. Squirrel's glare became focused and even harder.

"No", said Squirrel, in a quiet, chill voice. "I'm am _not_ going to leave you with... _that woman_." She spun on M'Elise. "We are taking Rose on", she said in a determined voice. "I don't care how you do it. Make it happen. We are taking her with us."

M'Elise held up her clipboard almost protectively from Squirrel's glare. "OK", she said.

Squirrel blinked. "OK?"

M'Elise shrugged and pointed at the clipboard. "The kid's done her homework. We can take her on as an intern, with a contract to transition to apprentice when she gets her certifications. Code allows us to double stack her in a standard stateroom off shift." She glared back at the pad. "We may even get a tax break. Like for the cat."

Squirrel pivoted back to Rose, her expression still blank. Then she grabbed her and squeezed her as hard as possible. "You will never have to see that woman again", she said coldly.

Rose slowly relaxed, and then the tears started. And then she hugged back, like she would never let go.

Joey tugged at M'Elise's trews. The two children had been watching the whole proceedings solemnly. "Does this mean we get to learn the toasty moves?"

"Maybe later", said M'Elise. "First, I think the time is right to visit that ice cream parlor I found. The one that will do a sundae bigger than your head."

The sundaes were, indeed, bigger than their heads. A great, glorious mess of frozen confection crowned the center of the table. Although much excavated and undermined, a vast bulk remained slowly melting in the warm afternoon sunlight. Fanciful shapes stamped out of sugar and dyed all colors of the rainbow and beyond festooned the surface, glittering between sugar saturated fruit chunks, roasted nuts carved into the shape of starships, and congealed flows of sugar syrup fossilized amidst the melting ice cream run-off.

Orbiting the central extravagance were smaller plates, glasses of carbonated beverages, brightly patterned napkins and long, long handled spoons.

Squirrel and M'Elise sat, in easy wash chairs, staring at the remains in exhaustion. They wore fancy clothes, with more colors and frills than their usual uniforms, with additional flecks and splotches courtesy of the sundae and the occasional telltale small handprint in dark sticky syrup.

A mixture of heavy beat dance music and the bells and whistles of game machines reverberated around them. Not quite loud enough to preclude conversation, but enough to make it an effort.

Like comets on extended trajectories, Aiden and Joey ran around the place. Sometimes swooping in to guzzle drinks or cram some more of the sundae in and around their mouths. Then, having been accelerated by the mass of sugar, outwards to express their pent-up energy on the dance floor, or to enthusiastically, but not accurately, fling balls around the various game courses.

Between the two, like a dwarf planet, Rose orbited. Occasionally giving a gravitational boost to the children's antics. Other times collapsing into a chair with the adults and sharing their mutual astonishment at the energy and sugar consumption capacity of the children. And often, after just a few more dainty spoonfulls, she would be off again, in pursuit of one or another child.

"Well, despite a rocky start, things are going all black ink now", said M'Elise.

Squirrel giggled, slightly hysterically. "I keep bouncing between 'My baby is back!' and 'My god what have I done?'".

M'Elise shrugged, and prodded at the remaining mass of sundae, although without any real interest. "The kid is smart. I'll give her that."

Squirrel snorted. "Just because she found a loophole in the code you didn't know about doesn't make her a genius. Just very self-interested. Teenagers are good at that."

"Yes, it does", said M'Elise sternly. "I spent years in the Merchant Academy studying loopholes in the code. And a trade ship is all about self-interest. All we have to do is expand her idea of self from an individual to the crew."

"Or family", said Squirrel.

M'Elise gave her a salute. "I stand corrected."

Squirrel bit her lip. "I have to get rid of this immediate impulse to talk her down. I've got to be supportive. She _is_ a genius." Then she sighed. "But I don't want her to grow up with an unjustified ego."

"The grey zone", said M'Elise morosely. "There's no code for parenthood. Or, rather, there are lots. They are just wildly conflicting." She patted Squirrel's hand. "Just do what seems best. Sorry for jumping on you like that. It's not like I know what I'm doing either."

Squirrel held the hand that patted her. "If you promise to pick up the pieces of the relationships I shatter, I promise to do the same."

"Deal", said M'Elise, and squeezed back.

They watched the kids for another few orbits. The place straddled the extrality zone and drew people in from both the starport and the local town. People flowed in and out. Special occasion parties were hosted, bored groups of affluent teens, and a smattering of business meetings between space transients and locals.

"So, we did our big long haul", said Squirrel. "Were we thinking of doing another one? Back to Narita?"

"The economics of that seldom works in both directions", said M'Elise. "And I think the crew would kill us."

"There's that", said Squirrel. "Does it make sense to trade our way back to Narita for another run?"

"I had been thinking that", said M'Elise. Then she gestured with her spoon. "Until we hired her."

Squirrel looked confused at Rose. "How does that change things?"

"Well", said M'Elise slowly. "An internship is supposed to be about learning things. Just going back and forth between Cincin and Narita, half as long-haul trips, isn't very educational."

"So, we're a school now?" asked Squirrel.

"We're already a day care", said M'Elise.

Squirrel was silent a long time. "If It doesn't work out, I figured we could always let her go as we swung around Cincin."

"Because she loves it as much as you do?" asked M'Elise pointedly. "If we go somewhere interesting there will be other interesting opportunities for her to move on to."

"And I said she never had to come back here", said Squirrel, hardening her resolve. "OK. What sort of 'interesting' place did you have in mind?"

"Jopur."

"Jopur?" said Squirrel, shocked.

"It's just about the biggest and oldest orbital there is. The closest things to a capital that we have in the 40 Worlds", said M'Elise.

"We almost died there!" protested Squirrel.

M'Elise shrugged. "We've almost died several places. At least we've got highly placed friends there."

"Do you mean the ones who nearly killed us?" asked Squirrel.

"Yes, those ones", said M'Elise. "It's a big place. It's been a long time." Squirrel's glare did not soften. "OK. _Also,_ it's only two transitions past that to Guadeloupe. I figured we could swing by and pick up José. Or at least say hello."

Squirrel sagged. "Maybe his grandma will be better."

"Maybe", said M'Elise, but not hopefully. "If we post a commitment to somewhere like that it can increase the chances of getting a good contract. And, if not, we can pick and choose what speculative cargo to get. Jopur is a well-defined market. Easy to buy for."

"Post it then", said Squirrel. "And I'll inform the crew. That might be enough for them to consider not resigning and putting up with each other for just a bit longer."

"Good point", said M'Elise.

The children's orbit intersected theirs for a time. Aiden began to continue to attack the melting dessert. Joey picked up a spoon and looked sadly at the chocolate lump on the spoon. "I miss Crosby", he sighed.

"Who's Crosby?" asked Rose.

"He's our cat", said Aiden, around mouthfuls.

Rose looked confused. "The one you got on Narita. What happened to him?"

"Nothing" said Aiden. "He's on the ship."

"I just miss him", said Joey, making up his mind and eating the chocolate.

"It's all right boo-boo", said M'Elise. "We'll head back to the ship soon." The kids cheered.

"You would think that after six weeks of no leave they would be sick of it", said Squirrel.

"How much longer are we in port?" asked Rose.

"We gave the crew two weeks leave", said Squirrel. "Plenty of time to say your goodbyes."

Rose shifted uncomfortably. "No one worth bothering." Squirrel then looked embarrassed.

M'Elise took a swing of brightly colored drink and put it down loudly. "Great!" she proclaimed. "I've filled a few provisionary insystem flight plans. We can get a jump start on your training." She grinned madly. "How do you feel about flying?"

Rose looked taken aback. "I can't even drive!" And, after a pause. "At least not legally."

"We on the José Fabuloso pride ourselves in our traffic violation collection." M'Elise said solemnly.

"You aren't being serious", said Rose, and looked at Squirrel. "She's not serious?"

"Oh, yes", said Squirrel solemnly. "We keep hard copies of the violations framed in the rec-room."

"I said I was good at small systems maintenance", said Rose.

"We'll throw you to the engineers later", said M'Elise. "For now, you'll sit nav. I could use the practice at piloting. It's been a while."

"I guess I could learn navigation", said Rose.

"Good", said M'Elise. "We always seem to have trouble holding on to navigators."

"Really?" asked Rose. "Why?"

"José" said Squirrel and M'Elise together.

The next day was filled with paperwork. Rose got photographed and scanned multiple times. Identity cards were issued, crew contracts witnessed, accounts opened, dues and taxes paid, hours accredited, and professional certificates issued.

After that, it was time to hit the shops. Basic gear had to be acquired, uniforms ordered, storage locker, vacuum suits, hammocks and the other necessities of ship life secured.

Then they took their first flight. M'Elise sat pilot, nervously rambling how surprised she had been to pass the test at the academy and get her certification, how much she had been influenced by José's manic flying and stopping to look up what various flashing indicators meant.

Rose sat navigation and methodically brought up their pre-programmed courses. Then, as M'Elise drifted off course, had to quickly master re-calculating them. Each deviation was at higher velocity and required her to re-plot faster, and faster.

The children sat jointly on the gunnery console and made lots of 'pew-pew' noises.

Squirrel sat comm and mostly apologized. To system central. To passing ships. And, pretty much, anything with a proximity alarm that they came anywhere near.

Crosby sat on the command chair. Asleep.

Later, after they had reached free space, they sat in the galley, recovering. Espresso flowed freely for the adults, and juice for the children. The cat had milk.

"Eighty-two warnings", said M'Elise. "No tickets." She paged through the screens of reports. "I'm a lot rustier than I thought."

Rose coughed on her espresso. "You aren't rusty. You're crazy!" She stared at them, wild eyed.

M'Elise and Squirrel looked at her. Then they exchanged glances. Then they both laughed until tears ran from their eyes.

Rose looked between them. "What?" she asked in exasperation. "Is this some sort of insane initiation?"

"If only", said M'Elise. She leaned forward and patted Rose's hand. "Child. You have no idea."

Rose looked offended now.

Laughing Squirrel took over the keyboard. "You think that was bad? Let me pull up my 'initiation'."

She leaned back as a tremulous screaming erupted from the galley speakers. It rose up and down the scale, with whoops, cries and sobs.

"That's... you?" asked Rose.

Squirrel nodded. The kids joined in, adding their falsetto cries to the cacophony.

"That's a powerful set of lungs", said Rose, with respect.

"I was younger then", said Squirrel, modestly.

They all started as Crosby, from under the table, added his own yowl in. M'Elise dialed the volume down.

"What were they... doing to you?" asked Rose, aghast. "It sounds like they're pulling your fingernails out."

M'Elise stood and raised her espresso cup to the portrait of José in full ship's uniform, bedecked with gold braid. "That, my child, is what happens when you first experience a crazy pilot."

Rose looked at the portrait with trepidation. "Him? He doesn't look that crazy."

"He's actually pretty sweet", said Squirrel. "You'll probably meet him after we go to..." she paused. M'Elise improvised a drumroll on the table. "Jopur!"

Rose's eyes popped open. "Jopur? Are you kidding?" They shook their heads. "Like in all the vids? Jopur?"

"Best shopping in all the 40 worlds", said Squirrel.

"Isn't it dangerous?" asked Rose. "Aren't there a bunch of crime lords there?"

"At least six", said M'Elise. "But we get on well with two of them."

Squirrel glared at M'Elise. "It's not quite like in the vids, honey", she said to Rose. "But it's still pretty awesome. Oldest orbitals in the 40 worlds. Lots of history there."

"And gems?" asked Rose.

"Yes", said M'Elise. "Best gem market in the 40 worlds too. Lots of trade goods flow through there. And they are always hungry for more. If we play our cards right, we should make a good margin there."

"I'm really getting out of here", said Rose, quietly.

"Yes", said Squirrel, giving her a hug. "I only got as far as Port Newark. We're not even going to stop there."

Rose brushed a tear from her eye and hugged her back.

"Not nearly as many complaints as last time", said Squirrel. They sat, back in their berth, with the hull slowly pinging and popping as it cooled after re-entry.

"I mostly let the auto-pilot do the work this time." M'Elise stood and stretched, her back popping like the hull.

"We shot down twenty-four booger battleships", announced Joey.

"Missed one!" cried Rose and chased him with tickle fingers.

"We got a few cargo bids", said Squirrel, paging through their mail. "Comp flags them as low-balls but for one. However, they want a personal interview."

M'Elise wandered over, curious. "That's kind of unusual for a standard run like this." The two read the notes section of the bid. "He wants to see both of us. Mentions us by name."

Squirrel wrinkled her forehead. "He mentions a 'mutual comrade' and the language is... off." M'Elise shrugged. Squirrel read it again and the other bids. "He's being much less formal than the rest."

"Normally notes are computer generated", said M'Elise.

"And his is not", said Squirrel. "He's sending us a message."

M'Elise pursed her lips. "His prices are good. It's only nine containers, but it would be good to book that much of the hold at that price for the whole journey."

"My mediation sensors are pinging", said Squirrel. "I just don't know what they are telling me."

Rose poked her head between them, looking at the monitor and panting slightly. "What's up? Y'all look fascinated by something."

"Your Mom's mediation sensors are pinging", said M'Elise, dryly.

Rose slapped Squirrel's shoulder. "You never told me you have super powers. Did I inherit them too?"

"They won't manifest until after puberty", said Squirrel.

"In case you haven't noted, I _am_ post pubescent", Rose said, indignantly.

"Second puberty", said Squirrel. "Speaking of which, how do you feel about babysitting?"

Rose looked from her to the kids and back. They were watching Crosby use the litter box. "At what rate?"

"Well", said M'Elise before Squirrel could answer. "The Code establishes standard rates for child care progressive against certification levels, and there are provisions against crew being coerced into child support without compensation." She beamed. "Exceptions are made for blood relatives though."

Rose narrowed her eyes. "That's not fair. I should get paid the same as Bikash."

M'Elise beamed more widely. "Well, if you want to officially log the hours, we will pay you the code rate and I'll start the paperwork on getting you a provisional certification on being a nanny. If that is your career goal."

Rose wrinkled her brow and stuck out her lower lip. Squirrel suppressed a giggle.

"Or", said M'Elise, "We can pay you half of Bikash's rate, and keep it off the books."

"Fine", said Rose, grumpily.

"You should have asked about _her_ superpowers", said Squirrel.

Rose rolled her eyes. "Like I'm going to inherit _those_."

M'Elise poked her in the arm. "You have a good head about the Code. Plus, a teenager's instinct for the petty, the literal and the pedantic. It could take you far." She dramatically spread her arms. "Come! Be my apprentice in the dark paper arts!"

Rose fought to keep a smile off her face. "I think I'll stick to small systems engineering for now."

"I'll look out some of my old textbooks anyway", said M'Elise. "You can read them when you have trouble sleeping."

"Thanks?" said Rose. She tried to look at the monitor again. "What's the deal anyway?"

"Dunno", said Squirrel. "Weird cargo bid."

"Ping! Ping!" mimed M'Elise.

Squirrel turned the monitor and Rose leaned in. "Oh, him", she said. "He's Cooperative."

The two stared at her, startled.

M'Elise snapped her fingers. "That's it. Aligns with his language and our route."

"How do you know?" asked Squirrel.

Rose shrugged. "His name. The address. Word on the street."

"The street?" asked Squirrel, sharply. "What streets have you been going down with casual knowledge of The Cooperative?"

"Why is he your 'comrade'?" Rose shot back defensively, and evasively.

"It's a long story", said M'Elise, intervening. "Involving poor judgement, a misunderstanding, an espresso machine, and a massively inappropriate practical joke. But", she continued quickly, "It had a happy ending, and this may be part of it."

"You really want to deal with them, now that you know they are Cooperative", said Squirrel.

M'Elise shrugged. "It won't be the first time." She looked pointedly at Rose, who swallowed but said nothing. "I'm just saying let's hear them out. Not everything they do is excessively illegal."

"I'm glad we have such high standards", said Squirrel.

Octavio Postiligone was very charming. He had a well appointed but functional office in a second-floor suite on a street just off the main shopping street in the city surrounding the space port. The walls were darkly paneled, the floor richly carpeted in crimson, and the desk covered in thick green leather.

His brandy was excellent, served in small quantities in very large glasses. He had brought it out in thanks for the half polished, half natural meteoric iron lapel pin from Narita they had presented him in welcome. He wore it now on his suit which was exceptionally well tailored, with a very nice cut of fabric in an unobtrusive grey.

"You really called him 'Al' and made him wash the toilets?" he asked laughing. They had been telling him anecdotes of their adventures.

"We had no idea he was the head of The Cooperative" laughed M'Elise, who seemed quite impressed by the brandy.

"Retired!" exclaimed Octavio. "For good this time", he added. "And the new leadership has his full blessing, if not his bloodline."

"I'm glad to hear that The Cooperative is at peace with itself", said Squirrel, smiling, but only taking the smallest sip of her brandy.

"And with The Sorority", added Octavio enthusiastically. "That was the Old Man's doing."

"I'm sure it keeps the body count down", said Squirrel coolly. M'Elise laughed raucously.

Octavio continued, unperturbed. "It makes sense. We, in The Cooperative, are mainly... businessmen. The Sorority deals mainly in... diplomacy." Squirrel raised both eyebrows. "Well, the extreme end of diplomacy. In any event, apples and potatoes. They do what they do. We do what we do. No need for conflict."

"You paint a wonderful picture", said Squirrel. And, after a pause, "Where do we fit in?"

"Ah", said Octavio, setting his glass down. "To business!" He picked up a piece of paper, glanced through it quickly, and set it down again. "Briefly, as I sent, we would like to book cargo space on your vessel from here to Jopur."

M'Elise looked over at the paper. "I take it this is a 'no questions asked' sort of cargo."

"On paper, yes", said Octavio. "And we're happy to pay the secure cargo rate, as indicated."

"It's a very generous rate", said Squirrel, hurriedly. "We are, though, a _family_ ship, and are somewhat reluctant to get involved in the 'extreme' end of... business."

Octavio nodded gravely. "I anticipated you would be so concerned. To be clear, The Cooperative lists you as favored agents _for regular business_. You are not on the roster, and clearly do not want to be, for _special business_. There are, of course, times when we do have need to conduct _special business_ , when the strict rules of the 40 Worlds get in the way of unique circumstances when two parties are otherwise happy to conduct business. And, when we do so, we are reluctant for those whose job it is to enforce these overly narrow rules to have to be involved. A frequently used technique is to confuse the issue with a decoy." He folded his hands and smiled.

"You want us to be a decoy?" said M'Elise.

"Yes", Octavio nodded. "We are contracting you to transport an empty crate."

"Oh", said Squirrel, taken aback.

"Of course", continued Octavio, "We do wish you to preserve the privacy and security of that empty crate to the best of your ability and contracted obligations. But", he waved at the paper, "we're certainly not asking you to defend it with your lives or the lives of your family."

"Oh", said Squirrel, again.

M'Elise caught her eyes, "Sounds OK to me."

"Just the one crate?" said Squirrel.

"There's just one standard cannister. Although we are contracting for nine containers of space." He made an indeterminate motion with his hands. "We've had problems in the past with other factors booking space with our couriers and shipping containers with... certain active measures that... compromised our containers. So, we're just shipping one container, but we also want to reserve an empty container space around it. The details are in the rider."

"So, one container drilled into another container?" asked M'Elise. "I so would not want to draw up the paperwork on that insurance claim." She whistled, lowly.

"I think we can manage that", said Squirrel. "Empty slots all around your single container. Anything else?"

Octavio shrugged. "That's all."

Squirrel caught M'Elise's eye. "I think we have a deal then."

"Excellent", said Octavio and picked up the brandy bottle again.

"You really just did a deal with The Cooperative?" asked Rose, breathlessly.

They had come back to the kids running rings around her on their scooters from the cargo deck down the ramp to their dock space and back. She had set up a variety of obstacles for them and rigged up a low ramp or two.

"Careful Joey", cautioned M'Elise, a bit woozy from the brandy.

"Yep", said Squirrel, answering Rose's question. "One container, and eight empty spaces around it."

"They're paying for empty space?" asked Rose. "Why?"

"They like their privacy", said Squirrel.

"They must", said Rose. "What are they shipping in that one container?"

"Nothing" said Squirrel.

"Nothing we can tell you", cut in M'Elise. "They like their privacy."

"Aw!" complained Rose. "Can't we peek?"

"Absolutely not", said Squirrel. "It would be rude!"

"And would break our contract", added M'Elise. "You wouldn't want that on your record."

Rose sighed expansively.

Squirrel looked up into the ship, and then around the dock. "You did make sure the cat was locked up before you opened the cargo door, right?"

"Um", said Rose, biting her lip. "Yes?"

"I hope so", said M'Elise. "We got the model least likely to find its way home."

"I'll check", said Rose, and stomped off.

M'Elise gave Squirrel a look. "Don't tell anyone. Don't even say it out loud."

"Yes", she said. "What was I thinking? Like a teenager could keep a secret." Then she looked back at M'Elise. "Do you really think they have listening devices?"

M'Elise shrugged. "Dunno. But I think we play this as straight as we can. It's not in the contract, but I wouldn't be surprised if there's a big bonus involved if we do it well. Given we 'know' the head of The Cooperative _and_ the head of The Sorority."

"That would be nice", said Squirrel. "Maybe we could get that grass carpet."

M'Elise nodded. "That's a goal. Put it on the list." She pushed herself up from the thrust deflector. "I should probably lie down. I tried to go easy on the brandy but... that was an amazingly good vintage." She paused and looked sheepish. "Thanks for taking the lead back there."

Squirrel waved her away. "No worries. I got the kids. Sleep it off."

By the end of shore leave enough time had passed for the loathing of spending another minute in each other's presence to fade a bit. And when they found out the ship was bound for Jopur, with non-expedited stops along the way, they all signed on again. All but the navigator, that is, who no one had seen since getting into a taxi outside the ship and telling it to take him 'anywhere'.

But, after combing through the returning crew's records, there were enough of them with related experience, provisional certificates, and willingness for the slight pay increase that came with signing on for double duty, that they could fill enough shift slots to meet legal muster. They also extended Rose's official apprenticeship to be both in small systems engineering and navigation.

Rose was, generally, well received by the crew. The prospect of having someone who was clearly junior most, and even better, an apprentice, was seen as a huge positive. Many were already speculating what boring and tedious aspects of their job they could shift to her in the name of education.

The fact that she was related to the officers gave them pause. They were somewhat wary of welcoming a spy into their midst. But the fact that she was not officially a part-owner, despite blood relation, and that she was a teenager and clearly very amenable to conspiring against authority figures, mollified them somewhat. In fact, they pumped her for as much information as they could and Rose found that her extremely limited knowledge of their special cargo, and some of the more salacious tales of the owner's historical accomplishments, was a valuable currency.

Squirrel tapped her foot in irritation. She stood in the open airlock glaring at the landing field. All cargo handling equipment, feed lines, and access ramps were drawn back past the thrust deflectors. All access that remained was a retractable ladder that extended the short distance from the lock to the blast deck.

Unlike the busy Narita, the Cincin docks were comparatively deserted. Being a downport, there were no shortage of berths. It just took an earth mover and a compactor to create an emergency landing spot and not that much more to upgrade it to a full-service berth. No team of maintenance crew or bureaucratic functionaries waited to pressure them. The next ship wasn't due in for half a day. But the direction tower stood in the center of the port with windows looking in all directions, allowing for the direct observation of the entire facility. Squirrel felt its glare on her as the minutes ticked by.

She took a deep breath and let it out again in irritation. It felt good, and she hated that. This was her home world. Where she was born, and this was the first air she breathed. The air felt right as did the gravity and temperature. Even the pattern of warmth and coolness as lighter and thicker clouds filtered the sun. Whenever she adjusted her cabin controls to what was most comfortable, it ended up being Cincin norms. Every time.

Squirrel hated it. She hated this world. So many bitter, unhappy memories. Maybe once there were happy memories. But they were all crowded out by abuse, anger, indifference, insolence, desperation, and her leaving. Despite spending her entire youth here, there was no one she had reached out to while here. No one to say goodbye to. She could not wait to leave. And, yet, her body betrayed her. No matter how hard she tried to leave it behind, her lungs, her skin, and her inner ear would all be traitors.

With resignation she watched a starport vehicle emerge from the direction tower. It threaded its way along the access lanes between the landing pads. It was clearly heading in their direction, strobe lights flashing. Squirrel smoothed her uniform, descended the few steps, and started composing excuses for overstaying their scheduled berth time.

The vehicle pulled up next to their pad. Squirrel stood, looking contrite, awaiting judgement. After a pause the rear door opened and Bikash stepped out. He saluted and headed towards the ship. The service vehicle pulled off.

"What was that all about?" asked Squirrel, following him.

"Protective custody", said Bikash, dismissively.

Squirrel shook her head to clear it. "Right. Well. In other news we have a new crewmember."

"Ah", said Bikash. "So, your daughter has joined us. She looked like a nice kid."

"What?" said Squirrel. "How?"

Bikash smiled as he climbed the steps to the airlock. "She looks a lot like you. She will be an interesting bunk mate."

Squirrel climbed up after him. "How did you... No. Never mind. So, you are all right with that?"

Bikash shrugged. "I shall befriend her and become her closest confidant. She will tell me everything the rest of the crew confides in her and I shall use it to my advantage." He grinned widely and passed into the ship.

Squirrel found a lot of her worries were relieved and replaced with a breadth of new concerns.

Shaking her head clear again, she folded up the stair from the airlock. She paused, in closing the door and took a deep, deliberate breath. She held it a moment and blew it forcibly out the airlock.

"Good riddance", she said. "May I never see you again." She then closed and sealed the door.

The crew was happy and relaxed after their extended shore leave. The disappearance of the navigator was taken in stride and Rose reported that they had even started a betting pool on who would crack next. But a destination of Jopur was of interest to everyone. There was no more famous port in all the 40 worlds.

It was the talk of the crew for the first two transitions. Those who had been there told their stories and everyone told stories they had heard of others. It was difficult to tell the difference between genuine experience, embellished boasting, and badly recollected drama vids.

Rose received a lot of attention. Being the only woman on the crew deck, and being young, won much interest. Being the daughter of one of the owners gave them pause. Being junior most garnered her all the unwanted jobs, but Squirrel's frequent inquiries into the educational merit of Rose's assignments kept people wary of abuse.

"It makes for very interesting dramatic tension", said Bikash, when Squirrel grilled him before shore leave at the port of Ocala. He grinned widely, saluted, and left the kids in their charge.

"What did he tell you?" said Rose, coming up just as Bikash left.

"Who? Bikash?" asked Squirrel, innocently. "Just handing off the kids. Why? Is there something I should know?"

Rose mumbled something inaudible and changed the subject. "So, do I get shore leave like the rest?"

"Are you asking me as a Mom, or as the personnel officer?" said Squirrel.

"I want leave too!" insisted Aiden.

"Maybe you could take shore leave together", said Squirrel.

"That's called babysitting", said Rose.

"I'm not a baby!" pouted Aiden.

"Then you can babysit Rose", said Squirrel, reasonably.

"Sure", said Rose. "I want to go to a playground. It's called The Long Dock, and they have a great happy hour deal."

Squirrel shut her eyes. Caught between exasperation and laughter.

They were talking on the cargo deck where they had been doing crew hand off. The cluster of empty space around their secure commission had evolved into an informal parade deck. It was easily the largest open space in the ship. The kids could ride their scooters in endless circles. Some of the larger pieces of machinery could be worked on with ample room. And all the crew members in the ship's band could practice freely without irritating the crew members who weren't in the band.

"Hey, M'Elise!" called out Rose.

M'Elise was marshalling cargo. They had taken on a small amount of freight for Ocala that was being offloaded. M'Elise was pondering if it was worth selling any of their speculative cargo here or keeping it till a further port.

"What's up?" she asked, still distracted by her clipboard.

"Anything worth doing in Ocala?" asked Rose.

"I've heard there's a great happy hour at The Long Dock", M'Elise began.

"Family friendly", said Squirrel.

"Oh", said M'Elise. She stowed the clipboard and thought for a while. "Nope", she said after her contemplation.

"Really? A whole planet? And there's nothing to do?" asked Squirrel.

M'Elise shrugged. "I was only here once, while on the Rich Kingford. I had duty but everyone who didn't complained a lot."

"There's got to be something", said Rose, pulling out her own clipboard.

"We could always break out the 'educational material' we got back on Narita", suggested M'Elise.

Rose rolled her eyes and scanned more intently.

"Oh! Oh!" cried Joey, putting his hands up "I wanna do! I wanna do!"

"Boo-boo?" asked M'Elise, suspiciously. "What do you know about the educational material?"

"Mommy used 'air quotes'", he said solemnly. "Mommy only uses 'air quotes' when it's something good."

"I did not use 'air quotes'", protested M'Elise, emphasizing her point by using air quotes.

"I _heard_ them", said Joey, proudly.

"Are air quotes better than happy hour?" Aiden asked Joey in a stage whisper.

"Much", said Joey, making air quotes.

"A zero-G zip line?" said Rose, nose still in her clipboard. "How does that even work?"

"We have to come up with a better secret parent language", said M'Elise to Squirrel.

"Clearly", agreed Squirrel. "If it's really that bad, I guess we can set up the 'special educational materials'" she said, with air quotes. "We've got the space now."

Rose looked up, cocked her head, and looked around. "Oh. You mean the RealVision set?"

Squirrel gave her a disbelieving look. "That was supposed to be a big surprise. How did you know?"

Rose shrugged. "It's on the public manifest."

M'Elise covered her eyes and laughed.

"You were just reading the ship's paperwork for fun?" Squirrel asked incredulously.

"As one does", laughed M'Elise.

"Whose daughter are you again?" asked Squirrel.

"I don't know", protested Rose. "I wasn't there." They all tried not to laugh. "At least I didn't tell the kids."

" _They_ don't even know what it is", said Squirrel. Then, turning, "Hey kids. We're going to break out the RealVision 400 set!"

"Yay!" cried the kids, jumping up and down.

"It's for growing exceptionally nutritious swedes", said M'Elise.

"Boo!" cried the kids abashed.

After a pause, Joey ventured, "Mommy, are you just messing with me?"

"Yes boo-boo", confessed M'Elise. "Only to make you think about what you hear." She nodded solemnly. "What it really is, is a full experience virtual reality immersive gaming system."

Joey looked suspicious. "What's that mean?" he asked.

"It means no swedes." That got a tentative nod of approval. She pulled out her clipboard. "We've got a monorail building game, a First Empire adventure game, and some sort of trench warfare game conducted by slinging small furry animals at each other."

"Anything educational?" asked Squirrel.

"Well, the first is about logistics, the second about history, and the third about ballistic physics." M'Elise shrugged. "That's what the labels say."

"She also put them into the tax ledger as crew training supplements", commented Rose.

M'Elise stared at her, both aghast and impressed.

Squirrel nodded. "Well, my child, the bureaucratic path is not the one I chose for you, but I can see its merits."

Much of the long dockside days were spent in an alternate reality. Sensors were placed around the open ring in the cargo hold, goggles were strapped to heads, and various feedback devices were passed out.

Like giants they loomed over a landscape of rolling hills and challenging mountains. Small villages of jerboas lay dotted over the plains and valleys, all eager for access to public transportation and burgeoning with a desire to trade goods.

At their direction, great graceful spans of monorail track branched out over the landscape. From glittering multifaceted sheds gleaming bullet like monorail trains emerged and eager small rodents embarked on journeys of adventure, commerce and renewal of family ties.

Rose did the bulk of the building. Flattening inconvenient hills, bridging dramatic canyons, and setting posts and lifting rails into place. Squirrel visited towns far and near and interviewed residents to conduct needs analysis to determine the best places to link. M'Elise worked hard, often obsessively late into the night, perfecting schedules and ensuring all lines were used to full capacity. The children spent lots of time customizing the appearance of their avatars and picking the color and details of each line and naming each engine.

The children also provided a valuable randomization element. Their arbitrary decisions to send entire trainloads of toilet paper to villages they managed to assign scatological names to threw M'Elise's schedules into chaos. When they found out how to dress the jerboas differently it sent waves of new fashion demands cascading across the landscape and perturbed the carefully woven nets of supply and demand. The tipping point came when they discovered the volcano button.

After that they unlocked all the settings and let the kids invoke all sorts of gargantuan monsters to wreak havoc across the landscape and worked on their own side projects.

Squirrel was busy trying to organize a jerboa militia to guard the monorail sheds when M'Elise broke in. "Hey Squirrel. If the kids are occupied, I need you in reality."

Squirrel checked her readouts. "They appear to be fighting each other with a giant lizard and a giant moth." She looked around at her militarized rodents. "This can wait."

She took her goggles off and blinked in the much less vibrant light of the cargo hold. The kids were making exaggerated stomping and flapping motions and Rose sat in a corner making simple hand moves.

She found M'Elise on the bridge, surrounded by monitors displaying scrolling text. "What's up?" she asked.

"We've got a problem", said M'Elise, deadpan, typing quietly at one screen and watching several others.

Squirrel squinted but couldn't follow the text. "Why? What's happened?"

"Nothing yet", said M'Elise. She rubbed her eyes. "It might be nothing at all." Then she shook her head. "No, it's not nothing. I'm just not sure what it is."

"What _what_ is?" asked Squirrel, patiently.

"Someone's pulled our records", M'Elise said, noting a screen.

Squirrel peered more closely. "Our lubricant expiry dates? That's kind of obscure, but don't all star ports do these sort of random spot checks?"

"Yes", said M'Elise. "And that's the authority cited here. It's also why we get notified. Most ships don't pay any mind. But I have it alarmed."

"How... thorough", said Squirrel.

M'Elise met her eyes. "It's been ringing off the hook. All over the place. Almost every record that can be queried has been queried. This is not random."

"Almost every record?" asked Squirrel.

"All mandatory compliance records." M'Elise tapped on the screen. "None of the optional ones."

"Only things we can be inspected for, right?" asked Squirrel.

"Precisely", confirmed M'Elise.

"What are they fishing for?" asked Squirrel. "Or are they just bored?"

"You can't board a ship without cause", said M'Elise. "If they wanted to, say, get a closer look at our cargo, an expired compliance inspection would be the perfect excuse."

Squirrel digested this. "Well, we're not actually carrying anything, so it's no harm. But they don't know that, and we're being paid to keep up the ruse as long as possible."

"Our purported bonus depends on it", said M'Elise.

"Please tell me all our reports are up to date", said Squirrel. "You practically worship logistics."

M'Elise sighed. "I wish I could." Squirrel sighed. "The usual plan is to keep ahead of them. No one usually cares about... lubricant expiry dates."

"So, they've got us", said Squirrel.

M'Elise nodded morosely. "Five or six so far. Trivial things. But enough of an excuse."

Squirrel perked up. "So, what are they?" She gestured at the scrolling screen. "If they've got all they need, why are they still scanning?"

M'Elise grunted and pulled up more information. "The queries are in numerical reference order. No pause between requests."

"Automation" said Squirrel. "No one is at the controls." She called up the spaceport chronometer. "It's just past local midnight. Do you think the port bureaucrats are paid enough to work overtime?"

"I doubt it", said M'Elise.

"Can they pull an inspection while we are in flight?" asked Squirrel.

"No", said M'Elise. "Not unless they're the Navy or it's a moving violation."

Squirrel nodded and turned to her own console. "Then all we have to do is dust off before Mr. Bureaucrat finishes his morning coffee." She called up several screens. "I'll send out an emergency crew recall. Then set up a departure time with system control. Have we got any inbound cargo?"

M'Elise pushed the monitoring screen to one side and pulled up a fresh panel. "Nothing of consequence. I'll see who can do a rush delivery, a refund, or set up a cross sale or transshipment."

Squirrel nodded. "I'll tack on an extra addendum onto Bikash's message, saying we mean it."

M'Elise smiled grimly. The two typed on in silence for a while.

"Almost like old times", said M'Elise.

"Fewer explosions and daredevil flying", said Squirrel.

M'Elise smirked and hit the execute key. "We have our own fireworks."

"That we do", said Squirrel. "That we do."

The crew was remarkably compliant about having to cut shore leave early, and at short notice. They all came, pretty much, right after the summons went out. Even Bikash created no fuss, echoing the general consensus that anything causing an emergency pullout of the ship had to be more interesting than happy hour at The Long Dock.

Even when they pressured Rose and she let it slip that they were running from bureaucrats they took it in stride. A few pointed out that it meant they got to Jopur that many days earlier. After Squirrel agreed that they could take any missed leave time in Jopur, that was that and everyone got about their work in good spirits.

The ship dusted off from their berth three minutes before the start of the work day. Station wasn't happy about that when M'Elise put through the request. But she spoke with someone, then with their supervisor, and pointed out the training opportunity presented by managing a departure over a shift change. That won them over.

At three minutes past the hour a request came in for a ship visit from the Inspectorate General of the starport. At three and a half minutes past the hour Squirrel sent a detailed and lengthy reply on the maintenance history of the sanctioned components, how, regretfully, they could not comply with the inspection request since they were already in flight. Plus, many citations of The Code backing up their actions and how they were sure all would agree that this was not an item that warranted being noted on their record. And, finally, a schedule of work outlining how those maintenance issues would be addressed by their engineers during transition and so their record would be clean, pristine, and unblemished by the time they reached the next port and there would be no cause for inspection there. Have a nice day.

"I think it will take a little bit for them to chew on that", said M'Elise. She sat in the exec ops chair on the bridge, idly petting the cat.

"I should hope so", said Squirrel. "That was exceptionally obnoxious, even for us." The rest of the bridge crew sniggered.

It took forty-five minutes for the response to come back. Squirrel read it aloud. "Thank you for your timely response. I hope that your diligence will bring you the rewards in your future travels that you deserve."

There was a brief round of applause on the bridge as they relayed the message around the crew.

"I'll give their reply a 6 out of 10 for cattiness", said M'Elise. "Giving them a handicap for being civil servants."

"But ours was masterful", said Squirrel, still preening.

"Yes, it was", said M'Elise. "We shall print out a hard copy, frame it, and put it up next to José's traffic citations." Squirrel glowed. "I'll set up the actual duty roster to get those last check boxes checked off."

Although the deferred maintenance checks were the most tedious and annoying ones, the crew tackled them with a solidarity and positive attitude that was surprising. Rose was still pretty busy as their natural instinct to dump on the junior most was not completely overcome. But they were nice about it.

"She even went to bed early", said Squirrel, discussing Rose with M'Elise. "And by that, I mean on time."

M'Elise was busy connecting their baby monitor output to a graphical display driven by her accounting software. She was trying to use its curve fitting algorithms to isolate nighttime murmurs and cries into distinctive types with severity ratings for each. "More than I can say for the rest of our progeny", she muttered, watching the wavy lines.

"It's amazing how just the idea of a task being a way to put something over on someone can change it from boring to interesting" said Squirrel.

"Never underestimate the human desire to be petty", said M'Elise.

Squirrel scrolled up and down through the data on her clipboard, then sighed. "So, we managed to handle that one. What are they likely to do next?"

M'Elise drew back from her graphs. She sighed, considering. "I'm not really sure. I've done, um, creative tax avoidance in areas which firm legal opinion has not been established, before. Otherwise known as petty smuggling. This is different."

"Think like a bureaucrat", said Squirrel. "What would _you_ do in their place?"

M'Elise gave her a sidelong glance. "Well, first I'd do the same thing again. Some people are stupid enough to not fix what they just nearly got bankrupted by." She tapped her fingers. "Then I'd do something completely different."

"Like what?" asked Squirrel.

M'Elise shrugged and pulled up data on her clipboard. "Wicklow is next. Busier port than Ocala. Bigger department of irritating honest traders. Possibly even more skilled."

"Octavio was worried about compromised cargo" said Squirrel. "Should we look for that?"

"No", said M'Elise. "First, I'm not sure I believe him. Sounds more like a space lane legend. It breaks too many rules for a bureaucrat to do. At least one who isn't highly placed. Second, they've already taken action to protect against that; all those empty spaces. Although, that could equally be a flag to the inspectorate to get them to chase this red herring. Third, that empty buffer has turned into a crew lounge, for all intents and purposes. That makes it highly observed and very difficult to do something sneaky there."

"It does mean the crew is always there" said Squirrel. "Could that be their next tactic?"

M'Elise mused. "People are always the weakest link in any security system. It would bankrupt us to pay them enough to make them immune to bribes." She scrolled some more on her clipboard. "There's some security training material we can put the crew on. 'Loose lips sink ships' sort of stuff."

Squirrel took the clipboard and scanned it. Then she drilled down a few levels. "Does it have to be given like this?"

"For the official record it does have to be the approved self-assessment test. But it is only mandatory to do within the first year of hire." She made a sour face. "No one has lasted that long."

"Let me do it", said Squirrel. "Let me present the material."
"It won't count", said M'Elise.

"Doesn't' matter", said Squirrel. "The aim here is to train the crew, not to just check a check box."

M'Elise laughed. "How novel! Go on."

"This is boring", said Squirrel, waving the clipboard. "Everyone just skims the material, skips to the end, and answers the obvious questions. You don't even get penalized for wrong answers, so you just repeat it until you guess right."

"Informational instructional material at its best", M'Elise commented dryly.

"So, first, I know how to dress to get their attention", said Squirrel.

"No one is asking you to do that", said M'Elise sternly.

Squirrel waved her concerns away. "I'm not going to do a pole dance. Just, you know, what we all do. Dress to impress." M'Elise looked skeptical. "And then to dress up the material. We hired these people with a promise of adventure. Well, let's give it to them! You said not to underestimate the thrill of sticking it to someone. Let's weaponize that."

Squirrel put down the clipboard and struck a dramatic pose. "They're out there!" she cried. "They want our secrets. They want to steal your bonus. Don't let them make a fool of you. Be smarter than that. Here's how."

M'Elise nodded slowly. "That's certainly more interesting than a self-assessment."

"Can you rig up new categories to our incident reporting system?" asked Squirrel. "Get it working on their remotes. So, while they are on leave, they can report suspected attempts by the inspectorate to co-opt or bribe them?"

"You want me to gamify the maintenance software?" asked M'Elise.

"Why not?" said Squirrel. "Even if they only report bogus stuff it will keep them aware and alert! They'll remember their lessons."

"Insidious", said M'Elise. "I like it."

They got to work.

The crew was somewhat wary of the scheduled training, despite the flashy graphics Squirrel used to announce it. M'Elise spent some quality time going through the regulations and found that if they submitted the training material as donated instruction and the crew critiqued it, then it would count as a payment in kind to the regulation authority and they would get a credit against any future fees for certification or re-certification.

It wasn't clear if they fully understood her explanation, but the grumbling got a bit less.

As Squirrel progressed through the material, they became more interested. And not just because of the cut of her uniform. By lending an immediacy to the security risk and giving them concrete actions they could do to thwart the enemy cast them as heroes. Instead of seeing reporting incidents during their leave as intrusions into their personal time, they saw it as a chance to participate in clandestine espionage. When she had them roleplay out a few scenarios some really got into it.

M'Elise set up the recording and found herself being drawn in. She recalled that Squirrel had been a performer before she ended up shackled to the José Fabuloso. Literally. Albeit a performer where the main element of maintaining audience engagement was by taking her clothes off. Yet she had always claimed what she loved was the dancing. If that is how she internalized her performance, no matter what the audience thought it was about, then that explained her skill at keeping these swabbies attention.

M'Elise began to do some basic editing on the recordings. She originally suggested passing it on to the authorities as a loophole to convince people to participate. But now she felt it might actually be something that they could get some real compensation for. Maybe even sell. She cut in some section titles, added scrolling text, and even sampled an intro and outro from some of the practice sessions from the ship's band.

M'Elise had just started playing with swapping in some backdrops when Rose came up behind her.

"Wow! Is that Mom?" she said.

M'Elise jumped up, spinning around and knocking everything askew. "Don't do that!" she said, hand on her heart.

"Sorry", said Rose, without a lot of feeling. She picked up the external monitor.

"How did you get in here anyway?" asked M'Elise, not much calmer.

"What?" said Rose. "It's the bridge." She waved around at the darkened expanse. "I have duty here. Remember: trainee Navigator."

"You don't have duty here now. Not for several shifts", said M'Elise. "It's a restricted area and you only should have access when you are on duty."

Rose shrugged. "I guess something is wrong with your access software." She put the monitor back. "She spruces up pretty well", she commented. "I'm not sure the mountain retreat backdrop gives the right vibe."

M'Elise looked from her to the monitor in annoyance. "It demonstrates lofty goals", said M'Elise, but not convincingly.

Rose shrugged. "Well, it's better than the cargo hold", she said. "Can I watch some?"

"Sure", said M'Elise. "I want to see how well the backdrop plays out." She reset the play position to the start of the next section. She was watching Rose instead of the screen and was secretly pleased when her eyebrows rose as the titles and intro music flashed across the screen.

Rose watched her mother, for a time drawn into the material despite having been there when it was recorded. When the camera angle changed to show the rapt, note taking audience she objected, "That's not us!"

"Stock animation", said M'Elise. "Privacy and all that. It's easier than loads of fair use paperwork."

"But", protested Rose, "we were there! We were part of it." M'Elise raised an eyebrow. "We should get a cut."

M'Elise smiled. "So you shall. As we agreed." She nodded at the video. "I think it is coming out quite well. We might even get more than a token honorarium for it."

"Eclectic!" cried Rose. "I'll just... leave you to it, then", she said, backing away.

"Yes, yes", said M'Elise. "You can parlay that tidbit of news with the others." And, as she turned to go, "And _lock_ the door this time!"

The remainder of the training went well and, by the end of it, there was almost an eager anticipation at the prospect of being accosted on the dockside and asked to reveal deep secrets.

Wicklow was a small, airless world, and, although the port was on the surface, it was more like a space station. They put into their berth without much incident. The crew rotated off in shifts, but one shift always remained with the ship. They had a small amount of cargo to offload, and the new sense of duty insisted that crew should handle the offloading in the circumstances, so no non-crew would enter the cargo hold.

M'Elise had no problem with that and assigned them to line hookup and waste and recycle exchange as well. Squirrel annotated it all and ensured all got appropriately credited for the additional duty.

It didn't take long before those on leave started reporting their first incidents. Suspicious strangers, lurking observers, and mysterious characters so well disguised that they looked like normal people. All attempts at subversion were valiantly repulsed. Such loyalty did they project that most did not even get as far as offering bribes.

Bikash's descripti+ons were particularly livid. A number of nefarious actors were chronicled with great details of the anatomy and clothing, although very light with regards to their actual locations and deeds. He gave code names to these and soon others were reporting sightings of the same, occasionally, in multiple locations at the same time. More than one set of twins was suspected.

M'Elise did get one formal request for an inspection in response to an alert of expired certificates. But when she provided up to date ones she was politely thanked, and the matter dropped.

The crew felt this was merely a clever ruse and doubled their vigilance. But it was to no avail. Despite the multitude of sightings, no actual attempts were made to suborn the crew. M'Elise had bought a small amount of cargo and multiple repeated inspections revealed no clandestine devices. No listening devices or beacons had been smuggled aboard or attached to the hull. They were more disappointed than relieved.

There was a small amount of concern during their final departure as Bikash failed to show at the final boarding call. Several volunteered to go and search the hospitals and morgues for him but Squirrel put them off. He eventually appeared, an hour late, in a long coat with the collar turned up. Squirrel asked for no excuse and he gave none. Although the rest queried him in detail to learn if he had been followed.

They put out soon after and with minimal effort had escaped Wicklow's gravity and were following the traffic lanes to flat space where it would be safe to transition.

Rose was sitting navigation. It was her first departure. But there seemed some confusion between her and the helmsman.

"What's up?" asked M'Elise from the ops chair.

"I'm not getting that green light thingy for open space", said Rose. "We're supposed to follow the line of little markers until they go green." She gestured at the screen. "They aren't going green. It's not my fault!"

M'Elise leaned forward and narrowed her eyes. She quickly confirmed what Rose was seeing but tried to look beyond that. "Zoom out", she said. Rose complied, and several other markers filled the screen. "There are a bunch of other ships out there."

"Why?" said Rose. "They should be clear for transition. Why are they just hanging in orbit, burning money?"

"Maybe it's an ambush for us!" speculated Helm.

"De-catting munitions", said the Gunner, gently lifting a confused Crosby from the weapon's console.

"So, M'Elise", began Squirrel hesitantly from her console. "Do ghosts use regular communication frequencies?"

"Only in transitional space", quipped M'Elise. "Forget I said that", she added quickly after seeing Rose's eyes go wide. "What's up with you?"

"I've got a hail coming in, but there is no record of the transponder on system scan." She shrugged. "You told me not to talk to strangers or we could get a virus."

"In a big port like Jopur, I might expect that. Not here", said M'Elise.

"Someone could be spoofing their signal", said Helm. "To lure us in."

"You would think that they would use a registered signal then", said Squirrel. "You know, to put us at ease."

"Gah!" said M'Elise. "Check the registry."

"It's not on system scan..." started Squirrel. "Right. 40 Worlds registry." A few seconds later. "Fire of Neel, Naval Close Escort. Military."

"Better answer it then", said M'Elise.

Squirrel busied herself on the communications console. After several exchanges she turned back to M'Elise. "They're assembling a convoy to Armonk. Since that is our registered destination, we've been requested to join."

"Deficit" swore M'Elise.

"Caught like a rat in a trap!" moaned Helm.

M'Elise rolled her eyes. "A convoy in space this settled is rare, but the Navy does do training exercises."

"Can we say no thank you?" asked Squirrel.

"Not without raising a _lot_ of suspicion", said M'Elise.

"So, we _are_ caught like a cat in a trap!" said Rose.

"Rat", corrected M'Elise, shaking her head. "It's probably unrelated. It would have to be something seriously bad for there to be this level of cooperation between the Merchant Marine and the Navy." She looked at Squirrel. "We know what we are carrying. We know the risks."

Squirrel looked uncertain. "We don't know what we aren't carrying." She gestured with her eyes 'out there'. "They might. I'd hate to get blown away in a case of mistaken identity."

"It shouldn't come to that, unless we do something stupid." She shot a look at the Gunner. "The Navy is pretty civilized." Then she shrugged. "If it comes to it, giving up to the Navy is a lot more heroic than giving up to an inspector."

"True", said Squirrel. "We accept then?" M'Elise nodded. "I'll send our effusive thanks to them." She turned back to her board.

"We're giving up?" asked Rose.

"No", said M'Elise. "It's a convoy. They do this sort of thing near to the fringe and in the outback." She waved at the scan which wasn't showing the Navy ship's location. "Navy ships have super over-powered computers and top line approximation algorithms. Once the flotilla is assembled, they'll do a group course plot. We all transition together, and we all arrive together. Safety in numbers and all that."

Rose digested this. "What if we just... hung back. Go somewhere else?"

"Yeah", said M'Elise. "If we foul the transition of two dozen ships, including a Navy one, they will hunt us down to the ends of space."

"Ok, ok", said Rose. "Just giving alternatives!"

"We're slotted in", said Squirrel "Sending parking space to Navigation. They're estimating thirty minutes to departure. We just managed to slip in."

"Lucky us", said M'Elise.

The José Fabuloso slipped into line with everyone else like an honest and above the board trader. They took their transition parameters from the Close Escort and flawlessly transitioned in perfect synchronicity.

Then the waiting began.

They had tackled most of the routine maintenance tasks in the previous transition. Since the Naval super computer plotted this transition, it was exceptionally stable. There really wasn't much to do.

"The crew has started a betting pool on what's in that container", volunteered Rose at dinner one evening.

"They're all wrong", said M'Elise.

"You do realize they are never going to know", said Squirrel. "The contract is to deliver it sealed, no questions asked. If isn't like they are going to open it in front of the crew when we get there."

Rose tapped the side of her glass. "But you guys know. So, all we have to do is get it out of you."

Squirrel gave her an irritated look. "Is that why you've joined us for dinner?"

"We are _not_ doing this", said M'Elise, sternly. "How much did everyone just study about people being the weak link in the security chain? We need to just leave it and get the job done."

They ate in silence for a bit.

"Kind of hard when it's just looming over us like this", said Rose.

They all, self-consciously, glared at the container. They were having dinner on the cargo deck. The band had ramped up their rehearsals, but the tension also made them irritable. So, they had taken over the space for this shift so they could eat together without getting their elbows in each other's ears.

"I thought maybe the kid's artwork would make it easier to ignore", said Squirrel. Indistinct drawings in colored wax covered one corner of it. They were mostly abstracts of the cat pooping.

"We can do more!" volunteered Joey.

"I'm not sure we have enough hard copy in stock boo-boo", said M'Elise.

"We could paint it", suggested Aiden.

"I think the customer who owns it might get a little upset", said Squirrel.

"But we're really good at finger painting", said Aiden.

"I know", said Squirrel. "That's why we let you do your room."

"Do you want your room done too?" Aiden asked Rose.

"Aw, gee", said Rose. "I'd love to, but I share with Bikash and he's already got your paintings stuck up all over."

"We make him more every day" said Joey proudly. They went back to playing war games with their starch pellets.

M'Elise looked up at the crate again. "Three more transitions to Jopur."

"I'm not sure we'll make it through this transition", said Squirrel. "They are starting to sound stir crazy like on the Narita-Cincin haul."

"Betting on things they can never known the outcome to isn't going to help", said M'Elise, with a sidelong look at Rose. "Let me guess: this was Bikash's idea."

"I can neither confirm or deny", said Rose.

"At least someone is taking the goal of training you seriously", said M'Elise.

"Anyway", said Squirrel, "We've got to get them out of their head. I'm thinking we set up the RealVision system for the crew's use."

"That would be eclectic!" said Rose.

M'Elise shrugged. "I've already written it off the taxes as a crew training expense."

"We can put it up on the roster for using the space here, just like for the band."

Rose was nearly bouncing in her seat. "I'm not sure the monorails will be their ideal, but I can see them jumping at it anyway."

Squirrel nodded. "We can always pick up some more educational material at the next port and, doubtless, write it off our taxes."

"Eclectic!" cried Rose again, leaping up. "I'll get it!" She raced off out of the hold.

M'Elise opened her mouth, then closed it again. She watched where Rose had gone with an odd look on her face.

Squirrel scraped together the last of the food on her plate and ate it. She noticed M'Elise watching the door and looked from her to the door and back. M'Elise held up a cautionary finger. Squirrel watched, chewing.

Presently Rose came back, carrying the large base box with the peripherals balanced on top. She busied herself connecting everything up and placing the various sensors.

After a time M'Elise said "Rose", in a calm, inquisitive voice.

"Hmm?" she said, distractedly.

"I could swear I left the unit in forward stowage AA", said M'Elise.

Rose hesitated slightly but kept going. "Yeah. That's where it was."

"Last I checked", said M'Elise slowly, "you are not an officer." There was a pause. "How did you get in?"

"I used the cat", said Rose, with forced nonchalance, still not looking up.

"You what?" said M'Elise, incredulously.

Rose shrugged. "You put the cat on the crew roster for the tax break. Made it an officer to balance the personnel sheet. The computer has dialect training turned on. So, all I have to do is hold Crosby up to the lock and hope when he yowls that the computer decides it means 'open please' in Cat."

M'Elise looked stunned.

"Crosby can open doors?" asked the kids eagerly.

"Not for much longer", said M'Elise, reaching for her clipboard.

"Let's try the voice lock on the candy jar!" said Aiden, rushing off.

Squirrel watched Rose approvingly. "You are a strange child", she said. "But you're definitely mine."

Rose continued re-assembling the virtual reality set as unobtrusively as possible.

The remainder of the transition was tense, but letting the crew blow off steam in virtual reality by bombarding each other with wildlife kept a lid on things.

The time for the estimated transitional exit came around. Everyone reported to their posts but were a bit jumpy.

"Twenty minutes to predicted exit", said Rose. The helmsman reached over and tapped her screen. "97% confidence", she emended.

"That's the plus side of a Navy jump", commented M'Elise. "There's a lot less uncertainty."

"At least transition wise", said Squirrel. "What about us? Do we all have to fly in formation to port?"

M'Elise shook her head. "Not unless there is some system emergency, or we specifically request it." She consciously released her grip on the chair and flexed her fingers. "They will insist that we take lane assignments from Traffic Control in order. It means we'll get a sucky berth. But it's a sucky planet anyway."

"So, they can't, like, decide to board us", said Squirrel.

"They're the Navy", said M'Elise. "They can do, pretty much, anything." She sat back and rubbed her chin. "They don't really exactly even report to the government of the 40 worlds either. In theory they work for the Empress herself."

Squirrel scoffed. "I thought the Empress was a fairy tale."

M'Elise shrugged. "She, almost certainly is, since we haven't had any direct communication with the core Empire since the last collapse, 1200 years ago. But as a persona embodied in law, she very much exists."

"What law?" asked Squirrel. "I thought you said they are above the law."

"They are above _our_ law", corrected M'Elise. "They have their own law. It's complicated and, literally, written in their own language. And not all of it is public. We only covered it in the most general terms in the Merchant Academy. The upshot is they can do almost anything they want, but seldom do, because it spooks people, and that's bad for business."

"So, they can't board us", said Squirrel.

"They're _unlikely_ to board us", said M'Elise. "I mean, they might do a lottery inspection, where the pick one ship at random. But, even so, that would just be one chance in twenty for us."

Squirrel nodded. "I'll take those odds."

The minutes ticked further down. Everyone checked their status again.

Shortly after Rose gave the five-minute warning the bridge doors whisked open. Everyone started and looked around. They continued staring as nothing happened. Then everyone jumped again as the door whisked closed.

"What the..." began M'Elise. But then, from behind the screening partition, Crosby walked. He padded causally across the bridge deck and jumped up onto the gunner's console.

"Audit that!" swore M'Elise. "I thought I fixed that."

"Did we take him off the duty roster?" asked Squirrel.

M'Elise growled.

"Leave it", said Squirrel. "My stomach says..."

"Transitional space exit!" called Rose as a large yellow indicator blinked on her screen.

Space flooded in around them. Armonk was a cold system. A dim M class star with a single ice giant and several belts of debris. Transponders flared from the convoy as they announced their presence to traffic control. But all held pattern awaiting the formation signal from the Fire of Neel.

Squirrel was listening rapt to her earpiece. At M'Elise's questioning glance she shook her head. "They're just giving 'hold your position' instructions. They've sent traffic control the request for 20 approach vectors."

M'Elise drummed her fingers on her arm rest. The rest finished their post emergence checks and looked expectantly to Squirrel.

"New announcement", said Squirrel. She sighed deeply. "They _are_ going to do a lottery." M'Elise swore and the Helmsman began to rub a votive statue on his console and mutter a prayer.

"Motherless son of a..." exclaimed Squirrel, pulling the earpiece out. "It's us!"

M'Elise ran her fingers through her hair. "It's a set up", she said. "It has to be. I don't know what The Cooperative is shipping but it has to have ticked someone off a lot for this level of Naval cooperation."

"Can we get out of it?" asked Squirrel.

M'Elise fretted. "Regs... regs... that's one thing. The Navy is another."

"Come on", said Squirrel. "This is what you do."

"We can't fake a plague. No Imperial letters of passage. Can't claim to be ambassadors." M'Elise shrugged. "I've got nothing."

"We're dead", said Rose.

"No, honey", said Squirrel. "We're not dead. I would never agree to ship something that put you in that sort of danger. It's just the end of this run. I had hoped we would get further. But they will have to admit we tried hard." She picked up the earpiece.

"You can't let them inspect us", said Rose in agitation. "You don't know what's in there."

Squirrel smiled. "Do you think we'd take blind cargo like that? I said we wouldn't put you in danger. There's actually nothing in there. We're just a decoy." She turned back to the console.

"It's not empty", Rose blurted out, panic in her voice.

Squirrel turned back. All eyes focused on her.

"What do you mean it's not empty?" asked M'Elise. "How do you know?"

"I... kind of... broke in." Rose said in a quiet voice in the silence.

"You what!" exploded Squirrel.

"It was an accident!" pleaded Rose.

"An accident?" shouted Squirrel. "How do you break into something by accident?"

"I said I was good at small systems engineering", said Rose, cringing. "Like... locks." Squirrel stared at her in utter exasperation. "I didn't think it would work. I expected it to have super locks on it or something. It's not my fault!"

M'Elise held up her hands. "Go back to the bit about it not being empty," she said. "What's in it?"

Rose swallowed heavily. "Narcowafers."

Squirrel's mouth hung open. "Drugs? Like, street drugs?"

"How much?" said M'Elise. "How much was there?"

"A lot", said Rose. "Like, maybe half the container."

M'Elise whimpered.

"That's bad, right?" asked Squirrel.

M'Elise nodded.

"Can we space it?" asked Squirrel.

M'Elise shook her head.

"Too much to hide", said Squirrel. "How bad is bad?"

"They'll throw away the key", moaned M'Elise. "At least 40 years."

Everyone swore.

Squirrel glanced over at the console. The message acknowledgement light was blinking. She set her jaw. "Military jurisdiction ends at the starport perimeter, right?"

"Yes", said M'Elise. "But..."

"We run for it", said Squirrel. "Rose, punch in a course for the starport. Ignore lane assignments. Engage whatever we have programmed in for evasive maneuvers."

"We can't..." started M'Elise.

"I'm not going to let my daughter rot in prison, or my kids go into a fosterage", said Squirrel levelly. "Are you?"

M'Elise took a deep breath. "But what are we..."

"No idea", said Squirrel, picking up the ear piece. "Get us to port. I'll..." she hefted the earpiece. "... talk them out of it."

"Gods alive", swore the helmsman. "What sort of course is this?"

M'Elise turned back and looked over his shoulder. A ghost of a smile crossed her face. "I think it's a present from our captain." She patted Rose on her back. She started at the touch, still jumpy. "Queue up a bunch of those. We should change our plot as they work things out."

The helmsman whimpered as Rose got to work. M'Elise continued. "Limber up your fingers and wait for my mark." She punched a button on the arm rest. "Engineering. Stoke the power plant to full. We're going to need every erg you have. And prep a few sets of breakers for the maneuver drive. We're going to blow a few." She cut off his sputtering response.

She punched another button. "Bikash. Tell the kids that today we're going to practice hiding from boarders. Get them locked down."

"I'm sure you'll make it very realistic", said Bikash, sarcastically. M'Elise cut him off. She turned back to Squirrel, who was rehearsing lines. They exchanged glances and Squirrel nodded, once.

"Let's go out with a bang", said M'Elise.

She clapped the helmsman's shoulders. He flinched. "Do it."

He muttered a quick prayer and engaged the drive. Capacitors discharged and wavy lines jangled across the monitors. The lights flickered. The gunner screamed as the next nearest ship zoomed into view as they slalomed around it.

"Hello", said Squirrel, finally pressing the acknowledge button on the hail. "This is the José Fabuloso, how may I direct your call?"

Proximity alarms sounded from all stations on the bridge. M'Elise hunted for a bit, found the macro she wrote a while ago, and disabled them all.

"I'm sorry", continued Squirrel. "Our Captain is currently tending his sick Grandmother on Guadeloupe and isn't available right now. Can I help you?"

Several other active hail lights lit Squirrel's console from other ships. She ignored them. "Oh, I'm sorry", said Squirrel. "Yes, I acknowledge receipt of your request to board and search our ship. Unfortunately, we cannot comply at this time."

The line of ships was beginning to break up in panic as the Fabuloso careened through them.

"Engage next course", said M'Elise. "We're being too predictable."

"We are not refusing to comply", said Squirrel. "We are just unable to do so at this time."

The ship did a power turn and dove back into the thick of the ships that were starting to scatter.

"I'm not exactly sure at what time we will be able to comply", said Squirrel. "When's good for you?"

In another abrupt change, the ship shot away from the masses into open space.

"We're being targeted!" cried the Gunner. "Should I unlock the weapons?"

"No!" cried M'Elise. "Do not de-cat. Do not de-cat. If we so much as get a sensor lock, they'll launch torpedoes."

"Maintaining cat lock", said the Gunner, reflexively petting the sleeping Crosby in nervous agitation.

"Right now isn't good for us", said Squirrel. "We're dealing with an emergency."

"They've launched their fighters", said the Gunner, reading from his upper console.

"Switch course", commanded M'Elise. Rose shifted new plots over.

"The nature of our emergency?" Squirrel looked desperately around. She closed her eyes. "Our Executive Officer has just gone into labor."

M'Elise turned to look at her and raised her eyebrows. Squirrel shrugged. M'Elise turned back. "Look for anything labeled 'Code Orange'" she said to Rose.

"I'm a communications tech, not a doctor", said Squirrel. "All I know is our medical software said to get her to a hospital as soon as possible."

"Is that a course or a fractal?" said the helmsman, looking at where Rose dumped the next course onto his standby panel.

"Focus", chided M'Elise.

"Erratic?" said Squirrel. "Well, the pilot is a little upset. First time father and all that."

"What?" shouted the Helmsman.

"Engage!" said M'Elise. "Now!" he jerked to comply, and the whine of machinery could be heard through the deck plates. The lights on the left side of the bridge went out, and a few seconds later came back.

"Oh, of course", said Squirrel. "Code 447, Medical Emergency. I should have thought of that. Broadcasting now."

"Target lock gone", said the Gunner. "The fighter is still actively scanning us though."

M'Elise sighed. "Be glad for small favors. We might just get through this."

"An escort? How... very nice", said Squirrel hesitantly. "All the way to the emergency secure dock." She swallowed heavily. "With an ambulance waiting. That will be... wonderful."

"Fighter coming abreast", said the Gunner. "More or less." The stars still wheeled in his display.

M'Elise tapped on Rose's screen. "There's the dock. Plot a landing vector there." Sweat poured from her and her hands shook, but Rose got the course plotted and shunted over to Helm.

"We're going to die", said the Helmsman, upon seeing it.

M'Elise glanced at the plot. "Maybe one notch off a code orange, Rose", she said. "Last port we tried that at nearly blew us away with automated defenses."

Rose worked on re-plotting the course. M'Elise turned back to Squirrel.

"Secured dock?" asked Squirrel. M'Elise nodded. "So, we've just exchanged one form of incarceration for another."

M'Elise nodded. "But one with less guns."

"I don't know how to get us out of this", she said.

"You didn't know how to get us out of that", said M'Elise, nodding toward the scan, showing the Fire of Neel in orbit.

"Brace for landing", cried Helm. "It's gonna be rough!"

M'Elise leaped back in her chair and strapped in. Lights flickered, indicators flared red, and queasiness washed over them as their gravitational field meshed with the station.

After this there was an uncharacteristic quiet. The protesting wail of the engines was suddenly gone and there was just the ping of cooling metal.

"Ambulance outside", reported the Gunner from the external monitor. They all turned to Squirrel.

"Can they force an inspection on a ship if it's empty?" she asked.

"No", said M'Elise. "But they can impound it as abandoned, then board it."

"We can't have that", said Squirrel, thinking as rapidly as possible.

"I'll stay", volunteered M'Elise. "I know the regs best."

Squirrel shook her head. "It's my job to talk people out of things."

"I'm expendable", said Rose. "And I don't know crap."

They all turned at a scrabbling noise and a soft thump. Crosby had slid off the weapons console and lay on the deck, confused that the world had suddenly come up and hit him.

Squirrel grabbed the public address. "Attention all hands. Evacuate the ship immediately. We will _all_ accompany M'Elise to the hospital." She paused and smirked. "Lieutenant Crosby will remain as the senior officer of The José Fabuloso."

It was a mad rush to get off the ship. Word spread quickly to the non-bridge crew of what was at stake. But no faster than the XO's delicate condition and many sarcastic congratulations were inflicted on the Helmsman.

The kids were thrilled at the concept of an ambulance ride and were merely confused by attempts to comfort them about no one really being hurt. It appears they had never associated the two concepts. Mostly they wanted to know about the fight with the pirates.

The ambulance crew was mostly confused about who was the actual injured person, why so many people were coming, and where to put them. Squirrel play the "In our culture..." card and they stopped asking questions and just passed out sedatives to those who clearly needed them.

The hospital was similarly confused but took it more in stride. They quickly had M'Elise sequestered in an examination room, and Squirrel filling out paperwork. Hospital security was hovering about but more from curiosity than any directive from starport security. Not otherwise being a busy time, the nurses fussed over the children, bringing them toys and food. Bikash flirted outrageously with them, where compatible.

It did not take long for the team of trauma doctors to declare that not only was M'Elise not in labor, she was also not pregnant. The paperwork recorded it as a computer glitch, and they were discharged.

For cultural reasons Squirrel invented on the spot, they could not exit the same door they came in. So, they were shown to the rear exit and, found themselves in a network of dim corridors, crowded with laundry baskets and biohazard disposal containers.

"Well", summarized Squirrel, "That went better than expected."

"I expected to die", said the Helmsman.

"I tried!" joked Rose. With some concentration, they managed to bump fists. They had each been given a double dose of sedatives.

"Let's do that again", cheered Aiden. No one seemed to think that was a good idea.

"We've lost the ship", complained the Engineer.

"Not for the first time", said M'Elise, reassuring no one.

"But have we lost our bonus?" asked Bikash.

"Not technically", said M'Elise.

"But I'd like to", said Squirrel. "We very clearly did not sign up for this." She waved her hands to encompass the alley and their whole situation. "We're a family ship I said. Just ship an empty crate they said."

"We need a way to dump the contents of that cargo, but not the cannister itself", said M'Elise. "We contracted to ship an empty crate, and so we should."

"Do you have any idea how much that many narco wafers are worth?" asked Bikash.

"You do?" asked Squirrel.

"In rough terms", said Bikash, testily. "It's a lot. An awful lot."

"A bonus is one thing", said M'Elise. "But selling this stuff for our own profit? Are you crazy? They'll come after us worse than the Navy."

"You misunderstand", said Bikash, calmly, in the voice he used for the children. "I'm just saying we can't dump it. Someone invested a lot of money in this. They will miss it. Someone, somewhere, is expecting that crate not to be empty."

There was a polite cough. From very nearby. The lid of one of the laundry baskets was opened form the inside by a slender, yet muscular arm the color of coal. It was followed by shoulders and a head, shaven of hair but with many gold highlights. She watched them with heavy lidded eyes with elegant gold dust eyeshadow on them. She grasped the pipes above her and lifted herself clear of the basket. While suspended one bare foot tipped the lid closed. She then lowered herself down to perch on the edge of the container, legs crossed, elbow on knee, and chin in hand.

"Good evening", she said, languidly.

"Good evening", said Squirrel, reflexively.

M'Elise rubbed her forehead and Bikash looked personally offended. The rest merely gaped.

"Dame Xavier sends her greetings", said the woman coldly.

"Of course she does", said M'Elise. "Here we are, pawns once again."

"Are you two still fighting?" said Squirrel. "I thought you had made up."

The woman raised her eyebrows. "Me? I have no personal opinion in the matter."

"I guess that makes us lucky to be alive", said M'Elise.

"Yes", said the woman. "It does." She smiled very coldly.

"So..." said Squirrel. "Dame Xavier sends her greetings. Does she send anything else?"

"She sent me", said the woman.

"And you are?" asked Squirrel.

The woman looked at her, long suffering. "You can just call me '!'".

"'!'?" said M'Elise. "Just a tongue click?"

"It means, 'she who kills the irritating' in the language of my people", said '!'.

"You must be a busy person", said Squirrel.

"Very", said '!'.

"Look '!'", said M'Elise. "The offer of help is much appreciated. We need to get back to our ship, get refueled, and get out of here. But I'm not sure laying down a carpet of corpses between here and there is the best way to go about it."

"It's often much more straightforward", said '!'. "But I agree. It would cause more problems then the stress relief it would give."

"Are you good at anything else?" asked Squirrel. The non-sedated members of the crew drew back.

"I'm frequently praised for my patience", said '!'. "Within limits." She recrossed her legs and shifted her chin to her other hand.

"Why does she get to wear no shoes?" asked Joey quietly.

"Because she can't pull off heels", whispered Bikash back.

'!' ignored him. "Despite appearances, you have not been set up."

"This should be good", said Squirrel.

"The deal presented to you by The Cooperative was genuine. It is one of their most common techniques. Even though it is tiresomely predictable, the authorities have no good counter for it." '!' sighed and lifted her chin. "However, certain rogue elements from within The Cooperative have decided to take advantage of this. Why waste all this secure delivery contracts on empty space? Why not use it for fringe trades The Cooperative has not otherwise approved? If things go well, there's a lot of money to be made and no one high up is the wiser. If things go badly, well a bunch of third tier transport factors get hung out to dry and blamed for the mess. It's a great business opportunity."

"Unless you are that third tier transport factor", said M'Elise.

"Actually, it doesn't work well for anyone", said '!'. "The decoy ploy is eroded by having non-decoys. These trades are not approved for good reason. They put other, more reliable, business at risk."

"You seem to know a lot about The Cooperative's internal business", said Squirrel when she paused. "What's your stake in this?"

'!' smiled thinly. "Part of the brokered conviviality between The Cooperative and The Sorority is an agreement to watch each other's backs."

"You police each other's organizations?" asked M'Elise. '!' nodded.

"Well that's putting Organization into Organized Crime", said Squirrel. "Where does that leave us?"

"You were contracted to pick up an empty crate and to deliver an empty crate", said '!'. "Someone has intercepted your empty crate and filled it. They plan to intercept it, once again, and empty it. I propose you deliver a full crate. That will raise the right eyebrows and there will be repercussions."

Squirrel looked annoyed. "But all this filling and emptying of crates is happening off our deck. How can we stop the middleman from slipping it out as they pass it up?"

'!' smiled. There was a barely discernable flick of her wrist and a small scroll of paper appeared. She passed it to M'Elise, who took it reluctantly.

"This is a private dock in Jopur", said M'Elise.

"You should pay a visit to an old friend", said '!'. "Presume upon your friendship to make this whole arrangement personal. They like that."

"I was hoping we'd never see him again", said Squirrel.

'!' shrugged. "Good luck", she said, and glided off the crate.

"That's it?" said Squirrel. "That's all the help you have for us?"

"Unless you want me to lay down a carpet of corpses", '!' called over her shoulder as she sashayed down the corridor. Crewmates got out of her way.

M'Elise tucked the paper into her pocket. "Well that's better than nothing."

"Why can't life be simple?" asked Squirrel rhetorically. She gestured to Bikash to hand her the children. "We'll take them. You go find us a hotel that can fit everyone with a back door."

"I am just a nanny", protested Bikash, handing the kids over, more or less.

"A nanny of many talents", said Squirrel. She pulled out a wad of printed currency and peeled off some notes. "The ship will pick it up. Try to stay within 80 talents per person per night." Bikash took the money and it vanished upon his person. He turned on his heel and marched off.

"Can I hide in the laundry basket too?" asked Aiden.

Bikash returned surprisingly quickly and lead them along a few connected alleys and into acceptable accommodation. Both the sedated and non-sedated opted for a quiet night.

The next day, after a very late breakfast, M'Elise borrowed the hotel's complementary network access to remotely log into the ship to check upon status and messages.

The crew gathered around as M'Elise read out the high priority queries from Starport control and their computer's best efforts to reply. There were often recorded yowls in response from Crosby, occasionally annotated interpretations from the computer's dialect learning software. Most of the time the computer replied that the officer on duty was currently napping and could not respond.

Things got even more interesting in the afternoon when formal charges were laid against the ship and a public defender was assigned. Her, extremely creative, interpretations of the cat stymied central control even further.

After much hesitation and debate, M'Elise eventually contacted the defender under client-attorney privilege. The latter was able to clarify their position. Such matters were between station authorities and any on duty officers. The regular crew were free to come and go from the ship and avail of the starport's services and facilities. They could refuel and restock the ship, but no permit for trade was likely to be issued until they had settled with the authorities.

The crew were delighted to comply, and great deference was done to 'Acting Captain Crosby'. The story of how they were working for a cat gained great interest on the dockside and they were not short of drinks being bought for them. Even so, none of them were against a quick turnaround. Although more interesting than Wicklow, all were eager to make what haste they could to Jopur. Especially if any cut leave could be banked and spent there.

All they had to do was work out how to get the officers, Squirrel and M'Elise, back on the ship.

"I'm sorry, boo-boo that we've been stuck in this hotel the whole time", said M'Elise.

"It's awesome!" cried Joey, doing an enormous somersault from the bed. They had dialed down the gravity in the room to local ambient and the kids were having fun bouncing on the bed.

"Hotels are my most favorite thing!" said Aiden. He was trying to bounce over Joey and watch the vid screen in the room at the same time.

"I feel so bad just letting the kids watch the screen all day", moaned Squirrel.

"Can't be helped", said M'Elise. "All our educational material is stuck on the ship."

"We could have them fetch it for us", said Squirrel.

"I really don't want to be here that long", said M'Elise. "As soon as we can work out how to get out of here."

Squirrel sat lightly in the chair; floating upwards every time she shifted in the light gravity. "Gotta explain all the footprints on the ceiling as well", she said watching the kids bounce and rebound off the roof.

"I wonder if the laundry cart trick would work for us", mused M'Elise. "Send out to have the ship's linens done. Sneak back with the returns."

Squirrel shook her head. "They say that starport security have someone there checking IDs and making sure we're not bringing any cargo in. Bikash complained they searched his lunchbox."

"What was he smuggling?" asked M'Elise.

"He didn't say", said Squirrel, smirking. "Too focused on his wounded pride."

"He's good at that", said M'Elise.

They idly watched the vid screens for a while. It was covering some local low-G martial arts tournament. The dialect was too thick to understand clearly, but that didn't seem to faze the kids.

"What exactly did the lawyer say?" asked Squirrel.

"That they would subpoena us as soon as there was a duty officer on board that could speak comprehensibly", said M'Elise. "She's taken the approach that Crosby is speaking in dialect, rather than willingly being uncommunicative."

"Novel", said Squirrel.

"I like how she thinks", said M'Elise. "We've got to slip her a nice bonus before we leave."

"Agreed", said Squirrel. "So, what if we, say, developed severe laryngitis before boarding?"

"Both of us?" said M'Elise. "Well, we're already past the astonishingly implausible coincidences. But I think it comes more down to communicating. Even if we couldn't talk, we could still competently receive a summons."

"We could fake our own deaths", said Squirrel.

"The ship's ownership would pass to the bounce squad here", said M'Elise. "And Crosby would no longer be just _acting_ Captain."

"OK, maybe not dead", she suggested. "How about unconscious?"

M'Elise scratched her chin. "There aren't that many ways to be unconscious without being considered a medical emergency. We couldn't protest being taken into protective custody."

"How about falling down drunk?" asked Squirrel.

M'Elise opened her mouth, then closed it again. She sat up and pulled up the Code on her clipboard. She furrowed her brow. "Well, if your blood alcohol level is beyond a certain level you can't legally be put on duty." She thumbed some more. "Can't make a legal statement. Can't consent to questions. Can't sign or authorize anything." She shut down the clipboard and shrugged.

"I'll message the lawyer and see what she thinks", said Squirrel.

The lawyer liked how they thought.

She couriered over a portable blood alcohol test. M'Elise passed on to the ship the head's up to file a departure time, under Crosby's orders. Bikash came to collect the kids, and Squirrel and M'Elise hit the hotel bar.

"This is much less fun than it should be", said Squirrel, eyeing the shot glass of amber liquid gloomily.

M'Elise perused the drink menu with equal lack of enthusiasm. "I'm not used to picking my drinks based on their alcohol content to price ratio."

Squirrel downed the shot and grimaced. "Gah! Maybe we should factor in how quickly we can drink them. We've got to get our blood alcohol reading above that threshold before the ship undocks."

M'Elise downed hers, closed her eyes, and tried not to breathe. After a few tears she opened them again. She and Squirrel checked the reading, sighed, and ordered another round.

"This will be a great story", said Squirrel, wincing as new glasses were delivered. "Someday."

M'Elise picked up the glass, eyed it with resignation, pinched her nose shut, and drank it down.

"Does that make it easier?" asked Squirrel.

M'Elise shook her head and wiped away tears.

Squirrel shrugged, pinched her nose, and drank it down, coughing. "Maybe if I got my tongue removed."

"I considered if we could take it internally", said M'Elise, morosely checking the readout.

"How about by suppository?" asked Squirrel, looking at the next round in trepidation. "That might almost be more pleasant."

"Lawyer said she wants them to smell it on our breath", said M'Elise. "More believable."

Squirrel swallowed heavily and blew a heavy breath in M'Elise's face. "How's that?" she slurred.

"Fenris would give you a bonus", said M'Elise and swallowed her own. "Maybe it's working. That wasn't as bad as the last."

"Or our taste buds have been scoured off", suggested Squirrel, ordering another round.

"It's a win either way", said M'Elise.

After a few more rounds the machine was happy. They settled their bill and rose to go.

"Woah", said Squirrel, waiting for the room to stop spinning after she got up. "For all that time I spent in bars, I don't think I've ever been this drunk."

"It's like the gravity is bad", said M'Elise, taking a few tentative steps. She made it to the wall and braced herself.

"Only one way to do this", said Squirrel. She hand-over-handed her way to M'Elise and wrapped her arm around M'Elise's waist. "Like this", she said. "I've seen the experienced drunks do this."

They took a few steps forward. "How many hours do you have to log to cert in this?" asked M'Elise. They both giggled uncontrollably.

"We've got a ship to catch!" proclaimed Squirrel, and lead them, lurching forward.

The hotel opened onto the dockside, but it was still disorientating, as they had not been out the front before. After staggering in a wide circle, they worked out the sequence of berths and set off down the dockside.

They did not attract undue attention. Staggering drunk crew were not unusual at any hour. The only concern was during their frequent pauses. If there was going to be vomit, any on duty dock worker had an interest in making sure it was in a different direction.

But they managed to hold their drink down and eventually saw the berth with the José Fabuloso listed and the departure light blinking. They gave an impromptu cheer and completely failed to fist bump each other.

As they approached, a stern looking official in a starport uniform intercepted them. "Are you officers aboard this ship?" he asked.

"No!" sputtered Squirrel defiantly, crossing her arms.

The officer looked from his docket to her and back. "Are you not... Squirrel. Communications officer of the José Fabuloso?"

" _Chief_ Communications officer", she said. M'Elise giggled some more.

"Do you deny that you are an officer on board this ship?" asked the officer, insistently.

"Yes!" said Squirrel, equally insistently. M'Elise clutched her and sniggered.

The officer looked at the docket in consternation. "You're the same as the picture! Do you have ID saying otherwise?"

"I didn't deny that I was Squirrel, _Chief_ Communications Officer", said Squirrel petulantly.

"Then what exactly are you denying?" asked the officer in exasperation.

"That I'm aboard the ship", said Squirrel triumphantly, pointing at the airlock which the officer was standing in front of. She and M'Elise grabbed each other and sank against the wall in gales of laughter.

The officer sighed deeply. Then he turned as Rose tapped him on the shoulder.

"They are clearly aardvark drunk", she said, waving her hand in front of her face. She peered at something written on the back of her hand. "So, pursuant to section twelve, chapter three, paragraph two hundred and forty-six of the starport annex of the code, I'm going to have to ask you to halt all further questioning until a blood sample shows them clear."

The officer worked his mouth some more but found little to say. Rose pushed him gently to one side.

"Come on, Mom", said Rose, trying to get Squirrel upright. "We've got a departure to make." She smirked at the Officer. "Captain Crosby's orders."

The officer chewed his lips and pulled out a communicator. But did not otherwise interfere.

M'Elise shook her finger at him while she was pulled into the airlock. "Don't try to mince words with a Communications Officer!" Squirrel nudged her. "Chief! Chief Communications Officer! Yes. Don't mince."

The airlock door closed on them.

A long, low groan escaped Squirrel as she lay in the hammock in the darkened stateroom.

"If you're gonna barf, let me cover up first", grumbled M'Elise from the hammock below.

There was silence for a bit, as if Squirrel was considering. "It's OK", she said eventually. "I think we just transitioned."

M'Elise grunted. "Not another migraine then?" she asked, more gently.

"No", she said, after hesitating again. "I think it is just a normal hangover." There was another pause. "The throbbing bounding is a little different."

M'Elise shifted, which set the hammock swinging. She groaned to herself slightly. But the dampers kicked in and the room stopped spinning.

"If you're gonna barf", said Squirrel mimicking M'Elise's accent, "let me move my stuff first."

M'Elise giggled, despite herself. Then "Ow" as the jiggling hit her head. "I can barely remember doing this for fun", she said.

"It was too important to stay sober when I was an exotic dancer", said Squirrel. "I only got this bad when..." there was an awkward silence. "When I was Rose's age", she finished, resolutely.

"Hmm", said M'Elise, so Squirrel knew she had heard it in the darkness. She reached up the few inches and placed her hand on Squirrel's back. "You'll be a better Mom for her."

"It's a pretty low bar", said Squirrel. Unseen tears dampened her face.

"I like easy goals", said M'Elise. Her hand fell away. "And you did a pretty awesome job back there. Good role model stuff."

"What?' asked Squirrel. "Getting staggering drunk to evade responsibility? Is that really what I should be teaching my daughter?"

"It was a very... creative solution", said M'Elise. And more reluctantly. "Same with the whole going-into-labor thing." And quickly added, "But you are to never, ever, ever do that again."

"I guess", said Squirrel, "The odds of it working were slim. Twice, non-existent."

"No", said M'Elise, sharply. "It was a good idea. A great idea even. A José Fabuloso worth idea. It was just... hideously embarrassing."

"Well", said Squirrel, "sorry about that."

M'Elise patted her with her hand and let it drop. "It worked", she said. "That's the important part. And that's what you are teaching your daughter."

Squirrel pondered this for a while. "I guess we'll all look back on this one day and laugh."

M'Elise snorted, then groaned. "I think the crew already are." Squirrel laughed, then groaned herself. "But they aren't looking forward to what's next." M'Elise continued. "That's what worries me."

"You're our strategic planner", said Squirrel.

"Dunno", said M'Elise. "I got us into this mess."

"I helped", said Squirrel.

"True", said M'Elise. "But you got us out of it. I didn't help much there."

There was silence for a while. "We all have our skills", said Squirrel eventually.

"Yes", said M'Elise quietly. "And our limits." She reached out again and put her hand on Squirrel's back. "You did good. Better than me. I just have to say it. Acknowledge it. Make it real." Her hand dropped again.

There was silence for a while. "Well", said Squirrel, "As for what we do next, I know what we have to do first."

The whole crew assembled on the cargo deck. The RealVision equipment has been stowed, the band instruments put away, and the toys cleaned up. The one container, an invisible backdrop up till now, was the center of attention.

"So, this whole thing has ended up a lot more involved than we planned for", said Squirrel to the assembled crew. "I assure you, this isn't what we intended. We were misled and ended up here. But, having ended up here, and having you all involved in this mess, it's only fair that you know as much about it as we do." There were murmurs and nods from the crew. Squirrel looked over to M'Elise who nodded, once.

"Rose" said Squirrel. "If you would?"

Rose shuffled forward sheepishly. Rather self consciously she slipped a non-descript grey packet from her overalls and fished out some thin probes. Some were mechanical, others electronic. With these she poked and prodded the locking mechanism on the crate. After about half a minute there was a whirring noise and an indicator flashed green. Rose stepped back and shrugged.

"That was awesome!" said Aiden. "Can you teach me that?" Squirrel hushed him.

"Can we change the lock on the bathroom?" Joey asked M'Elise in what he thought was a hushed voice. She nodded to calm him.

Squirrel sighed, straightened her shoulders, and approached the container. She grabbed the recessed handles and turned them, releasing the locking bolts. With a grunt she pulled on the door. After grating initially, it swung easily open.

The dim overhead lighting of the cargo hold filtered into the interior of the cargo container as the door opened. Inside were piled stacks of grey boxes. They looked as though they had been piled hastily without caution. It was only two thirds full, and a nearer pile had fallen over, the first one having split open.

Colorful tubes had spilled from the box. Squirrel bent and picked one up. Through the thin plastic she could feel a stack of disks, each about twice as thick as her thumbnail. She held it up to examine, but it was free from the standard barcodes and weights and measures required for all packaged salable products. It just bore legends such as 'finest quality' and 'elegantly superlative' in jaunty lettering.

Squirrel glanced over at Rose suspiciously, but she didn't bat an eyelash. Squirrel gave her a 'we'll talk about this later' expression.

M'Elise came up, holding the detector that they had used on Wicklow to monitor their blood alcohol level. She unthreaded a probe from it and put it against the packet. Almost immediately the unit beeped, and the display flashed.

"Narcotics all right", M'Elise read out. "Uncut." She peered into the depths of the container, estimating volume.

"We're gonna be so rich", said the Gunner.

"We're gonna be in jail so long", lamented the Helmsman.

"I don't even want to estimate the street value of this", said M'Elise. "Or the jail time."

"No one is going to jail", said Squirrel. There was sighs of relief. "And no one is probably going to get rich either." There were a few more sighs.

Bikash nodded at the contents. "That's a lot of dope to make disappear. And, if you did, someone is going to miss it badly."

"I know, I know", said Squirrel. "That's what the tongue-clicky woman was getting at." She leaned against one of the surrounding crates and looked embarrassed. "We, uh, kind of know the retired head of The Cooperative." There were murmurs of surprise. "He, er, used to be a crew member." There were even louder murmurs. "That's how we got this job."

"I guess he really didn't like working here", said the Engineer.

"We didn't know he was the head of the Cooperative at the time", said Squirrel. "He was our... janitor."

"We're gonna die", said the Engineer amongst the outcry.

"Actually", said M'Elise, cutting through them. "He said he particularly enjoyed his time on the José Fabuloso because we treated him like the cantankerous old man he was rather than giving him empty lip service."

They quietened, somewhat.

"If what '!' said is right", continued M'Elise, "He doesn't know about this." She gestured at the illicit drugs. "And even that most of The Cooperative doesn't know about it." She folded her arms.

Squirrel continued. "We can turn it in to the authorities and ask for a reward." This was met with positively. "But we'll have a lot of explaining to do." The positiveness stopped. "Personally, I'm more inclined to take it to the crime lord. Less questions there. And more chance of a reward. Either they set us up, and we delivered, or else they didn't, and we've helped finger a bad actor."

The crew mulled it over for a while.

"Unless we decide to nark on the narcs", said Rose, "we still have two transitions to get to Jopur. We've pissed off the Navy, we've pissed off the Merchant Marines. Whose left to piss off?"

"I don't think there is an active Naval warrant out on us", said M'Elise. "Yet", she clarified. "So, they are unlikely to go out of their way to hunt us." And, again, she added, "yet."

"After that stunt on Wicklow", said Bikash, "Which, I admit, was an epic and glorious stunt", he added. "No port is going to let us dock. We're already inbound to Panjang. What do we do when we get there?"

M'Elise scratched her chin. "Well, there's a refinery around the gas giant that Panjang circles. Sometimes they will sell fuel directly to starships. We did that during our long run from Narita to Cincin. Although that was by prior arrangement."

"After that it gets a bit tricky. There's one last small port, Rockall, before Jopur. It is little more than a waypoint. There's no refinery and the port is largely automated. I'm pretty sure it won't let us dock. But we can negotiate with other ships for fuel. We'll pay an exorbitant price. But it's all I've got."

The crew shifted uneasily but with resignation.

Rose put her hand up.

"Yes, Rose?" asked Squirrel.

"So, I was going through the ship's equipment manifest the other day", Rose said. A few people rolled their eyes. "There is something in locker 43", she nodded her head towards a wall, "called an Emergency Fuel Bladder."

Squirrel raised her eyebrow and looked to M'Elise.

"That's basically a microfiber balloon. You can deploy it in the cargo hold and fill it with fuel. It gives you extra capacity to make a second transition without refueling. I got it in case we wanted to do a run near the outback. Refueling can be dodgy there."

"Sounds like what we need", said Rose.

M'Elise shook her head. "We'd have to ditch our cargo." She nodded at the surrounding crates. "We can't do that."

"Surely we can keep just the one crate", said Rose.

"Yes", said M'Elise peevishly. "One isn't a problem. It's all the rest."

"We can't just chuck them out the airlock?" asked Rose.

"We could", said M'Elise. "If we wanted to chuck out all of the financial investment we've made on this trip", said M'Elise with exasperation. "We've got a lot of capital tied up in here", she kicked a cargo canister for emphasis.

"So, you aren't saying we can't. Just that it would be expensive", said Rose.

"Prohibitively expensive", said M'Elise.

Rose snorted. "I'm not sure I want to put my life and future freedom on the line for a bit of profit." There were murmurs of agreement from the crew.

"How expensive?" asked Squirrel.

M'Elise waved her arms dramatically. "Like, it would send us back two and a half years. It would wipe out our discretionary purchase funds. We couldn't buy speculative cargo anymore and would just be limited to schlepping other people's freight."

People appeared unmoved. "Can we write it off against insurance?" asked Squirrel.

"Not if we chuck it out the airlock", M'Elise fumed. "That's negligence, not maleficence." There was an angry pause. "We can't throw away everything we've worked for!"

Squirrel waved her arms around the room. " _This_ is what we've worked for."

"Yes", said M'Elise. " _This_ , and _this_ , and _this_." She pointed at the surrounding cargo crates.

"No", said Squirrel. "This." She more pointedly indicated the children, Rose and the crew.

M'Elise frowned at her.

"Look", said Squirrel. "We're in a jam and we're facing risks we really don't know the full extent of. But taking a loss from dumping the cargo is very well defined. Very painful. Believe me, I know. I was looking forward to that grass. But it's a known versus an unknown. What really makes more sense to you?"

M'Elise kept her arms tightly folded and glared at the wall.

"What' the highest value to volume cargo we have?" asked Squirrel.

"Are they subdivided?" asked the Engineer. "Could we stash some of it in the corridors?"

M'Elise shifted her glare to the ceiling. "Not without breaking several health and safety regulations."

Squirrel glanced at the cascading packages of narcotics. "I think we're past that."

"Can we, like, dump it in a parking orbit or something?" asked the Gunner. "And pick it up later?"

M'Elise rolled her eyes. "A nice present for some scavenger."

"I've got some shielding in stock", volunteered the Engineer.

"I can do the lock", said Rose. "We can rig it to explode."

"Although cathartic, it's hardly a deterrent", said M'Elise sarcastically.

"Depends on how obvious we make it", said Rose.

The Helmsman had been thumbing through his clipboard. "So, the refinery at this gas giant. The asteroids clustered in its Trojan points aren't that mineral rich, so there would be good places to stash stuff."

There were some general murmurs and discussions. Eventually Squirrel clapped her hands. "OK. So, we're discussing taking a loss to mitigate our risk, and then taking additional action to mitigate our loss", she summarized. "Are we all good with this approach?" There were general noises of assent, but Squirrel was looking directly at M'Elise.

M'Elise looked back at her under lowered brows. Then nodded. "I don't like it", she said quietly. "But we're out of options I like."

Squirrel nodded soberly. "If we get through this, I'll definitely push our ex-janitor to pay us expenses."

M'Elise snorted and shook her head. "Serves me right for getting you that mediation course."

"Oh?" said Squirrel, surprised. "I didn't even realize." A grin spread across her face. "I was mediating!" She did a little victory dance, which confused everyone except M'Elise, who just covered her eyes with her hands.

"Here we go", said Squirrel, several days later, clutching her stomach at the comms station on the bridge.

"Normal space", called out Rose. Displays flickered switching from the minimal readings of Transitional space to the more complex sensor indicators of reality.

Steeply curved space is what dumped you out of transition. Since Panjang orbited a gas giant, that had the deeper gravity well and they were precipitated into orbit around the giant rather than the moon. Things were quiet.

"No overt Naval presence on scan", said Squirrel after reading the intra system scan.

"No updates to system law since our library entry", said M'Elise, checking change notices from the system broadcast channel. "Paperwork is good to go."

"Sending", said Squirrel, then heaved a sigh of relief.

"I've put the request in for a parking orbit", said Rose.

"Gunnery console locked down", reported the Gunner, as Crosby leapt onto his desk.

"Oh look", said Squirrel. "There's an urgent message from the Merchant Marine office." She flicked a few switches and sent it to the ops console.

M'Elise read it slowly. Twice. Then she composed a response asking for clarification on a few points. She then sent the response.

"Pretty much as expected", said M'Elise. "They've slapped a commerce quarantine on us until we submit to a full 3rd party inspection." She scratched her chin. "In compliance with fair treatment policy I've asked for a complete copy of all data they are using to render this decision and up to date appeal forms. It should buy us a few minutes."

"Parking orbit assumed", said the Pilot.

"I'm checking the system atlas", said Rose. "There's a lot of worthless real estate here. We're spoiled for choice. Sending top candidates to ops."

"Yes!" cried Squirrel. "Mining office has responded. Automated response systems for the win!" She paged through the information and submitted a confirm. "We are now officially miners."

"Pick one of Rose's rocks and file a claim on it", said M'Elise to Squirrel. "Rose, lay in a course to that rock. I'll update the system office with our 'purpose in system' directive. Now that we're licensed for mining, that doesn't come under their purview." She looked over at the gunner. "Keep the acting Captain happy."

"Sometimes I think that's all I'm paid for", muttered the Gunner, who, nevertheless, kept petting Crosby.

The system's office was not happy with their change in designation, but as the mining office was under local control rather than Merchant Marine control, there was little they could do. Other than freeze their credit, suspend their trading license, and forbit them a docking permit for anything other than an inspection. Medical emergencies were specifically excluded.

The José Fabuloso noted their objections but continued its leisurely course towards the gas giant's leading trojan point.

The kids named the asteroid Crosby's Turd, because from one angle the shadows made it look like it had cat ears, and from all other angles it looked like a resident of the litter box.

What followed was a lot of dirty, sweaty work. Despite their shiny new license, the José Fabuloso was not equipped as a mining ship. Engineering had worked up a sort of heat projector that was supposed to sublimate the volatiles in the surface substrate. Only most of the easily sublimated volatiles had already been sublimated in the several billion-year lifetime of the rock. So, the "digger" mostly just loosened the gravel up a bit. In the end they welded together some shovels and just chucked the stuff away. With a good heave, a shovel full of regolith could reach escape velocity.

So too could an energetic jump from a healthy child, and twice during the operation, they had to go flying off to retrieve an unrestrained child during a field trip.

Eventually they downgraded their plans to just gouging a trough in 'The Turd' and nestled the containers inside of it. They then covered it with what regolith they still had the patience to shovel. Rose rigged up an elaborate, yet largely non-functioning, trap and clear notice of ownership and the consequences of disturbing it. They had all had enough by that point and no one was sorry to leave.

The trip back to the gas giant was equally leisurely. Even though they had dumped a lot of mass, M'Elise insisted that they maneuver as if they were full to make it less likely someone could work out what they had done.

M'Elise sat with her head against the pipe in their micro-officer's lounge. Her knees were against her chest as the floor had a layer of de-canistered trade goods covering it.

A gentle tune tinkled, and Squirrel shifted a few boxes and drew two cups of expresso. She shifted a few more into the space and retrieved a pair of saucers. She handed one to M'Elise and asked, "Any good gossip?"

M'Elise took a cup, sipped it, and put it on a nearby box. "I'm just cooling my head" she said. "I think they worked out the pipe trick anyway."

"Rose probably ratted on us", said Squirrel. "Well, they seem in good spirits at least."

M'Elise sighed and took another sip of espresso. "At least no-one has asked about hazard pay. I wouldn't even know how to classify the work they're doing. Let alone which pay chart to use."

"That's a good sign", said Squirrel.

"Especially since I don't know where we're going to get the money to pay them anyway."

Squirrel sighed. She shifted a few boxes and sat down. "I know you're upset at seeing all the cargo dumped."

M'Elise waved her hands. "You were right, and it's done." She morosely rested her head against the pipe. "They're pulling together. Helping get done what needs be done. Not quibbling over liabilities or accreditation." She glanced over at Squirrel. "You've got them acting like a crew."

"I think it's more that together..." started Squirrel.

"No", interrupted M'Elise. "I'm not going to fall for that mediation stuff again. It's you. It's all you." She sipped more espresso. "And that's OK. It's kind of the dream of every student at the Merchant Academy. To be in a happy, healthy, mutually supportive crew. It's just they really only teach you about having a profitable crew." She put the cup back down. "I'm just adjusting."

Squirrel sat silently for a while. "I guess I never really knew what I wanted." She shrugged. "First, to get away from everything I had ever known. And then, it was just a struggle for financial security." She smirked. "Then some nutcases blew up my space station and kidnapped me."

M'Elise also smirked. "I kind of remembered it was you that press ganged yourself onto our ship."

"I had no idea what I was getting into", she said, picking up her cup. "But no regrets. It's been a rocky road but I'm happy where I am. So, I can't complain about how I got here."

"What?" said M'Elise. "On the run from the law. Wanted in several systems. In bad standing with the Navy. No credit. No cargo. No fuel. Sitting on a lifetime's imprisonment amount of narcotics that aren't even ours. Sure, life just couldn't get any better", she finished sarcastically.

Squirrel shrugged. "I'm surrounded by family and friends who actually care about me."

M'Elise rested her head back on the pipe. "Oh, that", she said. "Sorry. Still adjusting my metrics."

Squirrel smiled, laboriously put her feet upon some boxes, and sipped her espresso. "Yes", she said. "The good life." They both finished their espresso.

A little later there was a small chime. After some delicate shifting of boxes, M'Elise uncovered the monitor. "Deficit", she muttered, reading the message.

"More good news?" asked Squirrel.

"The refinery won't sell us fuel", said M'Elise.

"Because Mercantile pulled our credit rating?" asked Squirrel.

"I offered them cash", said M'Elise. "Even gold."

"Gold?" said Squirrel. "We've got gold?"

M'Elise looked sheepish. "I've got some stashed under the plates. For emergencies." She pointed at the monitor. "That was yesterday. All the skimmers running raw fuel to the refinery or from the refinery to the station are independent operators. They all license and rent their ships from the refinery owner. Some weird insurance reason. It doesn't make a practical difference." She held up a finger. "But technically they could cut independent deals."

"Only they won't", guessed Squirrel.

M'Elise sighed. "That was the last response. All no." She paged through the output. "Well, one didn't even acknowledge the message."

"Really?" said Squirrel, trying to scoot forward. "Send him another one."

"What's the point?" asked M'Elise. "He's obviously just ignoring everything."

"Exactly", said Squirrel. "Make it an opt-out request."

M'Elise blinked. "Like 'unless you reply in the negative, we assume you agree to the following'?"

Squirrel nodded.

"That's really low", said M'Elise. Then she pulled the keyboard out from under a box. "I can't believe I've sunk this low."

"I've got him on visual", said the Gunner. "He hasn't changed course since."

The bridge was abuzz with tense excitement. Squirrel had declared it 'casual Friday' and pointedly suggested that no one wear their ship uniform. The gunner wore a silk shirt and decorative eyepatch. The pilot wore a T-shirt promoting a band and shorts. Rose had on some improbably tough looking street wear. M'Elise had on a sweat shirt and pants. Squirrel wore a full-length evening gown with makeup and hair glitter.

"Why should he change?" said M'Elise. "Our course misses intersecting their course by 3% more than the default setting for collision detectors."

"Well that's about to change", said Rose. "Final approach course ready when you are."

"Engineering" said M'Elise into her armrest microphone. "Are we ready for full power?"

"You betcha!" came the response, with Mariachi music playing in the background.

"At your discretion, Helm", said M'Elise.

The pilot checked his instruments, loaded the course, cracked his knuckles and flexed his neck. "Let's do it!"

There was a blink and a shudder as the pilot engaged and ramped them up to maximum acceleration.

"I almost hear those proximity alarms from here", said Squirrel, having already silenced their own. There was general laughter, but all eyes were on the controls.

"Still steady", said the Gunner.

"He was probably asleep", said M'Elise.

The pilot leapt into action again, killing the engines, doing a hundred- and eighty-degree flip, then igniting them on full again.

"Closing", said Rose nervously. "Closing." The impact gauge danced on her display as the pilot jittered the final approach.

"Here we go", said the gunner, watching the visual as the large tanker loomed larger and larger. And larger.

There was a collective whimper as it completely filled the screen. A sharp metallic clang rang out and everyone jumped.

"Argh", said the pilot. "Didn't pull it short enough."

"No damage reading", said Squirrel, flicking through screens.

"Forget the paintwork", said M'Elise. "Get us attached."

"On it", said the pilot, who had already backed off slightly and started looking for their airlock visually.

"Boarding party assemble", said Squirrel, locking her station down. The gunner and Rose did likewise.

"Negotiation party" corrected M'Elise. And "There! There!" she called to the pilot. He pivoted the ship to line up their airlock with the tankers. "Good luck", she shouted over her shoulder to Squirrel.

There were a few more bangs and clanks before the green light flashed on the airlock. Squirrel mashed the button and lead the rest into the lock, her high heels clattering loudly on the deck.

When their lock had cycled, they forced the outer door of the tanker's lock. The gunner pushed the button, but nothing happened. He turned to Squirrel and shrugged.

"How rude", Squirrel sniffed. "It's not as if we weren't expected." She motioned Rose forward. "Get the door for me, Rose."

"Sure Mom", Rose said. They all raised their eyebrows at the speed at which she had both doors locked open. "What?" she asked, at their stares.

Squirrel laughed and breezed past. The rest fell into step behind her.

The ship was big, but as most of it was tankage it was mostly long corridors linking distributed engineering monitoring sections. After a few wrong turns, they found themselves at the door to the bridge. There had been a trail of spilled snack food between the quarters and the door.

Squirrel rapped on the door and there was a startled cry from the other side. She smiled and pointed Rose at the lock.

As soon as it was open, she swept into the room with the others flanking her.

The bridge was spacious, but the consoles were fairly simple. Cheap printed pictures were stuck on the surfaces and bright stuffed figures hung from the ceiling. On one chair sat a stunned looking young man clutching an operation manual.

"Who _are_ you people?" he stuttered.

Squirrel gave him a beaming smile. "We're here for the fuel pickup."

He looked completely confused. "The what?"

"We wrote", said Squirrel. And, with a hurt expression. "Didn't you read our mail?" She moved to the operations console, shut off the collision alarms then paused. "A distress signal?" she said, heartbreak dripping from her words. She shut it off. "You don't need to be distressed by us. We mean you no harm."

He looked caught between embarrassment and fear. "You aren't pirates?"

"Do we look like..." Squirrel started, glanced at the gunner, and changed gears. "We want to _buy_ some fuel."

With exaggerated care, and many looks under the brows, she placed one high heeled foot on the chair and pulled her skirts up. She felt her way up to her garter belt in which a large knife was strapped. "Oh, silly me", she said with a giggle. "Wrong leg."

She repeated the process and extracted a roll of silver talents. She counted the bills out, one by one, and placed them on top of the operator's manual. "There", she said, re-adjusting her dress. "I think that's most generous." The stack of bills had disappeared. Squirrel smiled and called over her shoulder. "Start running the hoses." Then, turning back. "I'll just keep the Captain, here, entertained while we collect our legally bought goods."

The crew bustled, searching the unfamiliar ship for access valves to the fuel payload. Then hoses and pumps had to be attached and snaked back into their own ship.

Hoses filled with pressurized fuel, uncoiling and filling corridors with impeding tangles. Pumps clattered as the gas flowed through them faster than they were rated for. There was a panic as the rapidly expanding fuel bladder trapped Crosby for a while in the cargo hold.

Squirrel was just telling the tanker's operator the list and relative merits of children's cough medicine when M'Elise broke in over the communicator. "Squirrel. You need to get over here."

"What's up?" she asked.

"Trouble" said M'Elise. "Pull all the crew as you come. But make it quick."

"We're only ¾ full", protested Squirrel.

"Leave the pumps running", said M'Elise, desperately. "I need you here now."

Squirrel jumped up and headed for the exit. Then she turned back. "Oh dear", she said in mock distress. "Your communications panel seems to be on fire." The man looked from her to the perfectly normal console and back. "I'll get it", she said. She grabbed the fire extinguisher, set it to foam, and hosed down the console liberally. Then she tossed the extinguisher into the mess, blew the operator a kiss, and fled.

As she navigated the hose clogged corridors, she picked up the remaining confused crew. They piled into the José Fabuloso and crowded onto the bridge.

The Helmsman was running scan and looking very nervous. The main display showed a schematic drawing with an ominous unlabeled point on an intercept course with their location.

They all fell silent as they took it in. "Who is it?" asked Squirrel.

M'Elise shrugged. "It hasn't said", she said. "Its transponder is off."

"Isn't that illegal?" asked Squirrel.

"It is unless you're military", said M'Elise, meaningfully.

Several in the crew swore. "Like, the Navy", said Squirrel.

"Maybe", said M'Elise. "I'm more hoping for some sort of local rent-a-cop employed by the refinery."

"Because so many people want to hold up tankers for their fuel", asked Rose, sarcastically.

"All I know", said M'Elise, ignoring her, "is that it is fast and our sensors just kind of slip off of it."

"Maybe it's a hagfish", said Joey. "They've got a protective slime coat."

"Now, now", hushed Bikash. "Let's not distract Mommy. She's got her hands full talking her way out of this one."

"How far away is it?" asked M'Elise.

"Minutes" said the Gunner.

"How full are we?" she asked again.

"Eighty one percent", said Helm.

Squirrel and M'Elise exchanged glances.

"Wait", said Helm. "It just got faster." He looked at the readouts in consternation. "Sneaky devils were holding back!"

M'Elise nodded grimly. "Well played", she said. "This is someone who likes bringing down the overconfident."

"Transponder is now on", said Squirrel. "We're getting a hail from The Endive. It's listed as local system defense." She did a few cross checks, shaking her head. "Encrypted ID checks out. Hard to claim they might be forging it."

M'Elise sighed. "We had better answer it."

Squirrel squared her shoulders, straightened her hair, and adjusted her neckline. "Greetings Endive, this is the José Fabuloso. How may I direct your call to give you the best satisfaction today?" she asked in her sweetest voice.

A gruff looking man in a peaked cap appeared on the monitor. He had heavy jowls and a bristly white mustache. He did not look very happy.

"This is Captain Sullerton of the Panjang local militia. You have my credentials and authenticated statement of authority. Please cease all activity and put your Captain on the line directly."

"All activity we are conducting is legitimate contract work", protested Squirrel.

"That remains to be judged", growled Sullerton. "Your Captain please?"

"Our captain is currently on sabbatical", said Squirrel.

" _Acting_ Captain?" he asked, irritation showing.

"Technically the cat is the acting Captain", said Squirrel. The Gunner lifted Crosby to the pickup.

"Young lady", said Sullerton. "I have read the transcripts of your activities in the record. I am not in the mood for any of your games. Now who on your ship has command authority?"

Squirrel looked at M'Elise, who looked back at her and shrugged.

"Honestly, we've never really discussed it", said Squirrel apologetically.

Sullerton rubbed his forehead. "Let me make this very simple. I have three triple mounted torpedo launchers, loaded and ready to go. I'm annoyed, irritated, and your ship is not going anywhere today that I don't want it to. Do I make myself clear?"

Squirrel slumped. Then she faced the camera. "I know this probably looks bad." She said. "We're not bad people. We just got mixed up in something against our will and, yes, we've probably showed some bad judgement. But we're trying to put things right. We just need to get to Jopur, and everything will be sorted out. We haven't hurt anyone. We've paid for what we've taken. Can you see to letting this go? Please?"

The man sighed and glowered back at her. "Listen, lady. I want to believe you. But you don't know how many times I've heard this sort of sob story before. I have no way of telling the difference between you and the next con-man."

"Mommy is not a con-man!" shouted a defiant little voice.

The man's eyebrows went up. "You've got kids in there?" he said indignantly. "What sort of ship are you?"

"We're a family ship", said Squirrel.

"Put him on", said the man. Confused Squirrel lifted the video input down and widened the angle.

"Don't you call my Mommy a con-man", shouted Aiden, shaking his finger at the camera. "Con-men lie, they twist your words, they play you... emotions. They bad. They evil." He subsisted for a moment. Then said softly in the quiet his outburst had created, "Daddy was a con-man."

The old Captain stared at him a while, considering. Then he cleared his throat. "Who's your friend there?" Aiden pushed Joey forward. "So, young man. Is that your mother over there? The X.O.?" Joey nodded shyly. "So, she doesn't lie either?"

"No", said Joey proudly. "She uses contracts!"

The man let out a burst of laughter which he quickly turned into a cough. "Those must be some contracts", he said.

"Oh yes!" said Joey, wide eyed. "They're tough and tangly and they gets you all tied up and you have to do what she says." He mimed entangling motions with his arms. "Like when she wants me to go to bed, but I want to play, and she says I have a contract with her and the ship and... and... I just got to go to bed! Contract!"

He looked at them a long time, eyes distant. "Thank you, gentlemen. You can stand down." He looked back at the rest. "You seem to have a nice family. I'd hate to break it up." He waved dismissively off screen. "I won't fire on a ship carrying children. But", he said quickly, "I must insist that you accompany me back to the station, to surrender to the authorities, and to submit to whatever adjudication they render." The corner of his mouth twitched up. "If you do not comply I shall... formally protest."

Squirrel and M'Elise exchanged a glance, unbelieving. "Th-thank you", said Squirrel gushing. "We'll just... wrap things up and get out of your life."

He smiled and winked. "Good luck on Jopur", he said in a stage whisper.

"When the line had gone completely dead M'Elise keyed in Engineering. "We need to go. Now. But cleanly. Seal the lines, nearest valve their side of the airlock, and detach it all."

"We're not going to die?" asked the Helmsman, still uncertain. "Or go to prison?"

"Not today", said Bikash. "You did very good, children." The kids looked non-plussed. "As a special celebration, we will have ice cream so your Mommies can get on with saving our butts." The kids cheered at this, hugged everyone, and happily filed from the bridge.

"Should I request an exit vector from system control?" asked Rose.

"No", said M'Elise. "Let's play rogue a little longer. That will give our system defense friends here plausible deniability."

They waited as Engineering worked to clear the lines. Squirrel worked the comm board furiously until just after they set off, then pushed back. M'Elise looked to her quizzically. "I had to find a lawyer willing to talk to us." She looked briefly annoyed. "That is, a non-shady lawyer willing to talk to us. I set up a couple thousand talents to be donated to the retirement fund for System Defense Pilots."

"You needed a lawyer for that?" asked M'Elise.

Squirrel shrugged. "I wanted it to be done anonymously and after we left the system. Didn't want it to look like bribery."

M'Elise nodded. "Aye, aye", she acknowledged. But she shook her head. "On top of loosing the cargo. I hope it's worth it."

Squirrel watched the distances on the screen between them and the gas giant. "I hope so too."

The next week in transition was tense and touchy. They had gone from getting used to the free space in the hold to having the entire hold sealed and the rooms and corridors full of boxes, crates, containers, and bags.

Squirrel had a migraine and drugged herself out for several days. The cat got lost and the children were nearly buried under shifting boxes looking for the cat.

The crew mainly kept to their own, losing themselves in books, recordings, or virtual reality. Except for the engineer, whose sad mandolin chords could be heard echoing oddly in the different congested spaces of the ship.

Their passage of Rockall was a non-event. They came in on the system periphery. System traffic control barely had time to realize they were there, look up their history, and to send them a haranguing broadcast, before they had finished their fuel transfer operation and began to align their outward vector.

The transition from Rockall to Jopur was a marked contrast. Having bled the emergency fuel bladder in the hold into the fuel tanks, the cargo deck was now a vast, empty space. Only the single cargo cannister of narcotics sat alone there. An unignorable reminder of their situation.

During a normal transition, the most interesting duties are routine maintenance and monitoring the minimal telltales available in transitional space. This time, there was all the clutter that had jammed the rest of the ship that needed to be ferreted out, sorted, and stacked in the now spacious hold.

The opening up of space, in both the rooms and corridors, and the spacious hold, raised the spirits of most of the crew. They approached the duty with enthusiasm and several of them set up a variety of ball games to be played in the hold, to the delight of the kids.

The only one in a bad mood was M'Elise. She avoided the cargo hold, as the space only reminded her of what wasn't there, and what it had cost. What was there was either a pittance of what had been, or was the lone cannister, a stark reminder that their fate awaited them at Jopur. With all the uncertainty that entailed. When she wasn't calculating the legal charges that were likely to be leveled against them, she sat with the children, trying to lose herself in their short time horizon concerns and ambitions.

But time moved inexorably forward. The clock ticked away and eventually their trajectory through transitional space neared its ballistic conclusion. The bridge crew assembled wearing their formal dress uniforms, at Squirrel's request. M'Elise comments about wanting to be buried in it were taken as light-hearted jesting.

The monitors flashed and they entered Jopur space. They were immediately assaulted from all sides by transmissions. There were advertisements, advisories, and pleas for charity and help. Amongst these were official system traffic messages. As the busiest port in all the 40 worlds, they had several hierarchies of traffic control. They were routed first out of their incoming vector, then broadly grouped according to destination orbital. Eventually they were directed to land at starport authority security to have their ship impounded. At that point they submitted a carefully pre-prepared form indicating their purpose in system to be a personal visit to a private dock. Address enclosed.

There was a long pause. The occasional request came in for clarification on minutiae of their identification. "It's just a delaying tactic", said M'Elise to Squirrel's inquiry. "Jopur is the biggest, busiest port there is, and has to strike a delicate balance between jurisprudence and corruption."

Eventually their clearance came through. No one announced anything. They just got a data course advisory.

"I guess he's still got pull", said Squirrel.

"But do we?" asked M'Elise.

They made their way in through the traffic congestion. Rose was kept busy as they got frequent course corrections as various notables pulled rank, prioritized their passage, and perturbed everyone else's safety vectors.

M'Elise listed what was left of their cargo. It didn't get much attention since they were less than full container loads, and the trade authority had slapped a 'pending legal action' suspension on any trade deal they might do.

But they did make progress, and, as they got closer to their destination, the traffic thinned out. Visual was put on the main monitor and they all watched, mesmerized, as the largest pink orbital of Jopur slid past.

"That's a lot of private docks", commented Squirrel. "And no few corporate logos."

No different than the air waves, the sides of the orbital had plenty of blinking signs touting various wares. Only in this section they were less faded, more tasteful, and often heralded the residence of the head of a corporate conglomerate, rather than the conglomerate itself.

"I think they are done sending us course updates", said Rose. "We should be coming up on it very soon."

The berth, in the end, was a fairly modest one. It boasted Jopur municipal pink rather than anything fancier with a clearly readable berth number, rather than the ornate welcome mats elsewhere festooned with calligraphy to the point of illegibility.

The automated system acknowledged their presence, opened the airlock, and gave them a guidance beam into the dock.

"All secured", said the Helm, after they had landed and locked the engines down. "Now what?"

Squirrel stood up and brushed down her uniform, "Let's go deliver our cargo."

The crew filed out of the ship and into the cavernous space of the dock. Although modest from the outside, it had considerable capacity on the inside. Fuel lines were neatly coiled, forklifts parked in recharging stations, and empty palettes stacked to one side.

Near the brightly lit entrance was a marked-out observation area. An old man waited there in a motorized wheelchair, flanked by a stern-faced man in an immaculately tailored suit.

"Well", drawled the old man, "look what the cat yakked up."

"It's good to see you too, sir", said M'Elise, deadpan.

They stared at each other for a while and then the old man broke into a grin and chuckled. "I must be getting old if I can't even intimidate a bunch of space rats like you." He spread his arms, "C'Mere and give me a proper hello you scamps!"

Squirrel smiled warmly, relieved and bent over to embrace the old man. Then she squeaked and jumped as he did something inappropriate with his hands.

M'Elise leaned forward without moving any closer and shook his hand.

The old man scowled at her. "You never were any fun."

M'Elise grinned and produced an elegantly wrapped bottle. "But I know what fun is."

"Absinthe?" he asked. "You shouldn't have." He scowled. "Really. You shouldn't have. _They_ ", and here he stared at his attaché, "won't let me drink it anymore. _They_ ", and he glared again, "say it's bad for my digestion. So, thanks for the bitter reminder."

M'Elise grinned more broadly. Then she twisted the bottle and it opened to reveal a bunch of pale green pills. "Your bad digestion is famous. So, we brought anti-acids."

The old man rolled his eyes and motioned to the tall man to take it. As he busied himself putting them away M'Elise leaned forward and whispered. "They're really just filler with a liquid absinthe center."

She leaned back as the tall man returned and they exchanged a wink. The old man looked up and down with exaggeration. "So, no Dad? José isn't here?"

"Unfortunately, our Captain is still on leave of absence", said Squirrel, sadly.

"Looking after his dear grandmother on Guadeloupe", nodded the old man. "He sends me letters sometimes." He continued nodding. "They're..." he ran out of words.

"Confusing?" suggested M'Elise.

"Yes", he said, waving his fingers. "Confusing. Chickens... Chickens seem to figure prominently."

He rolled a bit to one side. "So, this is your new crew?" He looked up and down the line. "Do you have any idea at all the insanity you've signed up for?" he asked, rhetorically.

"I think we're working it out", said Bikash, levelly.

The old man shook his finger at him. "I like you. Fabuloso!" He then wheeled to the other side and stopped in front of the kids. They stared at his wheels in fascination. "Cabin boys?" he asked. They looked up suddenly to him, surprised. He stared at them intently and they fidgeted, looking from him to the chair and back. "I can tell there is a question that is just burning your tongues. Go ahead and ask."

"How..." started Aiden, then froze. The old man gave him a hurry up gesture. "How do you poop?"

Squirrel rubbed her hand over her face, but the old man laughed. "That is exactly what I thought you would ask." Everyone stared at him. "I have grand-kids, you know."

"Great-grand kids", corrected the tall man.

"Eh?" said the old man. "Already?" He wheeled back a bit. "Alphonse, here, has had prepared a tremendous luncheon buffet of lovely things I can't eat, which you are all welcome to. I'll just watch, but even that is likely to give me indigestion." He waved, as an afterthought to Alphonse. "Better have those anti-acids handy." He winked at M'Elise.

"Please sir?" ventured Joey. "How...?"

The old man looked around in mock surprise. "Oh, right. The pooping." He leaned forward. "It's a long, complicated process requiring precision and dedication." He looked them up and down. "But I think it might be within your capacities to assist." He looked up at the tall man. "I'm sure Alphonse will be happy to be relieved of that duty. Why don't you lead them on to the buffet?"

Squirrel and M'Elise gave warning looks at the kids, and also the old man, but followed where Alphonse lead.

"You're the brother of Octavio, right?" asked Squirrel. Alphonse nodded. "We met him on Cincin. There's a strong family resemblance. Nice guy." Alphonse smiled thinly and nodded politely.

"He had an awesome liquor cabinet", said M'Elise. "Any chance you have some of the brandy he had here?"

"No", said Alphonse quickly. "It is not good for the master's digestion."

"Yeah", said M'Elise. "We had to lock down the floor cleaner when he was on our ship."

Alphonse looked aside at her. "He speaks very fondly of his time on your ship."

"I can't think why", said M'Elise. "We treated him like rubbish."

"Indeed", said Alphonse. "That is what he speaks most fondly of."

They arrived at an elegantly appointed room with dark paneled walls and brass highlights. Silver platters were piled with breads, spreads and luncheon meat. Pickled things on sticks were in jars, and various sorts of ice cooled bottles were in buckets.

There was a brief pause as Alphonse lifted the lids on various serving dishes as everyone hesitated. The Engineer was the first to break, grabbing a plate and going for the bread. The gunner followed quickly examining the contents of the iced bottles.

There was a general hubbub as the rest descended, not wanting to miss a delicacy.

Squirrel stood apart from the general fuss, next to Alphonse. "Like pigs at a trough", she said, aside, to him.

"I could not venture to say", he said coolly.

"You didn't need to", said Squirrel.

The volume of noise went up a notch as the kids returned, riding on improvised running boards on the old man's wheelchair.

All seemed in general good spirits. Even the old man took delight in explaining exactly what havoc each food item would work on his metabolism with graphic detail for the children. No few anti-acids were taken.

Once the pace of food consumption had slowed Squirrel spoke up. "Old friendship aside, we didn't just crash your pad for the free food."

The old man sucked his anti-acid loudly for a while. "Well, you certainly didn't find that landing code written in a toilet stall. Out with it."

Squirrel took a deep breath, but before she could let it out, everyone began speaking at once. They each shared their own perspective on the high and low points of what they had gone through in no particular chronological order. All was illustrated by candid photos, copies of citations, and no few live action reenactments. The children contrived frequent non-sequiturs and the contents of the buffet enthusiastically disappeared.

After Rose demonstrated her skills by finding no less than three hidden flasks in his wheelchair, the old man coughed until he had everyone's attention. "All right, all right. I hate the idea that some canker is abusing the beautiful and fair system I have set up. But I'd better take a look."

They made their way back to the hanger and the cargo hatch of the José Fabuloso. The ramp lowered, revealing the mostly empty cargo bay with just the single container left.

"We've got kids on this ship", said M'Elise. "That dude swore to us that we were just running interference. Just shipping an empty container." She had not found the brandy, but a healthy amount of Solar Corona had been provided. "But instead we found this!"

Rose triggered the lock on the container and flung the door open.

"An empty container?" asked the old man, sarcastically.

They all stared, dumbfounded. The container was, indeed, empty. There wasn't a box, crate or cannister inside.

M'Elise waved her hands over the entrance, to see if it was a projection. Squirrel grabbed a scanner and walked up and down the interior.

"Nothing!" cried Squirrel. "Not a damn thing. Not even a trace! What the..."

"Did you take it?" the Gunner asked the Pilot.

"Someone must have taken it while we were at lunch", said Bikash.

The Engineer consulted his clipboard. "There's no record of the door being opened. Nothing on external cameras."

Squirrel clutched at her scalp. "It was here!" she cried. "Right here! I swear it. You've got to believe us."

The old man nodded grimly, looking at his own clipboard. "No record of anything having come or gone since your arrival. No loading gear moved. Even the gross weight tonnage of your ship is unchanged." He looked up at them. "It would need to be an implausibly efficient operation to empty your crate out with no record at all." He drummed his fingers and took in their crestfallen looks. "I didn't want to believe it", he sighed. "That someone would take advantage of me like this." He glared at no one in particular. "But the evidence is overwhelming."

"We didn't..." started M'Elise.

"Oh, I know you didn't", the old man said dismissively. "Imaginative though you are, you are not nearly competent enough to fabricate a story of that complexity." M'Elise started to protest but Squirrel nudged her. He looked at his clipboard. "Whereas I have no shortage of criminal masterminds, highly skilled in running implausibly efficient operations. Besides", he pointed at the wall, "I really don't think you're the sort of people who would duct tape your annoying cat to the wall."

They all stared, a few cried out, and a few ran over to the confused bundle of fur hanging from the wall.

"Get me the grey utility knife", barked the Engineer at Rose.

"I'll get my beard trimmer", volunteered Bikash.

"Poor thing is going to need some treats to get over the shock", said Squirrel.

The Gunner and Pilot braced the cat while the tape was cut from the wall, then gently lifted him down while the tape was snipped from his fur. The children sang songs to 'keep him calm' and M'Elise directed people from task to task.

"Like a well-oiled machine", said the old man to Squirrel, who stood anxiously, waiting for the next odd job in the operation.

"We've come a long way from the dysfunctional family you once knew and loved", she said. "I've never seen us this efficient and cooperative."

"Good", said the old man, "because I need you."

" _You_ need _us_?" asked Squirrel.

"Well, _obviously_ , I can't trust my highly efficient and well-trained staff", he said sarcastically. "So, a bunch of incompetent space rats will have to do."

"I notice Alphonse is strangely missing", said Squirrel. "Him and his brother?"

The old man nodded. "Yep. Figure so."

Squirrel clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. "Thank you, thank you, everyone, for coming together in our time of crisis to aid one of our fellow crewmates." There were general cheers. Crosby sat in the middle of it all, unperturbed despite being half shaved. "I know great sacrifices were made", she nodded to Bikash, who was looking despondently at his grooming kit, "and we thank you for them. But now that we've rescued our comrade it is time to get vengeance upon those who perpetrated this heinous felony." The stirring stopped as they looked at her, curious. "We know these miscreants have not only done violence upon our acting Captain, they also made off with the cargo we put so much effort into bringing here." There weren't cheers. "An ex-comrade has asked our assistance in getting this property back, thus securing his valuables and the reputation of the José Fabuloso!" On cue, no one cheered 'Fabuloso'. She folded her arms and looked sternly at them. "There will also be a reward."

Now there were cheers.

"Very motivational", said the old man.

Squirrel shrugged. "Hard audience." People put the immediate things they had been working on away and gathered. "So, what's the plan?" she asked the old man.

"Well, I paid a lot of money some time ago for a vehicle that purports to be 'very fast'" he said. "It should fit all of us. We got a driver?"

"I can drive!" said the pilot. Squirrel look at him skeptically. "How much harder can it be than flying a spaceship?"

"Good enough for me", said Squirrel. "Kids", she said, bending down, "Crosby has had a tough day. Can you stay, guard the ship, and look after him?" They nodded solemnly. "Rose I need you to stay..."

"No way", said Rose. "I'm not missing this to babysit."

Squirrel tried to protest but Bikash interrupted. "I've got it", he said. "We've all got our jobs on this ship. This one is mine."

Squirrel looked unhappy but didn't object.

"We've only got one gun", said M'Elise. "And a few fire axes."

"Yeah, well, guns I have", said the old man. "But I'm not sure I trust you in an orbital with them. How many of you have certificates in firearms?"

There was some embarrassed shuffling. The Gunner put up his hand. "Mortars and Howitzers?"

"I'll take that under advisement. Let's just plan on using harsh language." He revved up his wheelchair. "To the motor pool!"

The motor pool was adjacent to the hanger, so they did not have far to go. It was full of sleek polished vehicles of various shades of non-descript. The old man lead them to one that had the shape and line of a normal runabout but had been stretched to the size of a small bus. Upon activation from a remote mounted on the wheelchair, the side slid open, and with a small hover, the wheelchair slid inside and nestled into and bolted onto secure brackets.

The pilot slid into the driver seat, M'Elise took shotgun, and the rest piled into the long bench seats in the middle.

A button ignited the engines and with a whine of capacitors, the van shot out of the parking spot. Moments later the driver was standing on the brake to prevent them careening into the garage door.

"Just a minute. Just a minute", said the old man, fiddling with the remote. "It's not like I usually do this."

Rose gently pried the controller from his hands and pressed a few sequences. The door ground open.

"Go! Go! Go!" cried M'Elise.

The driver slammed the accelerator forward and the vehicle shot onto the street. After a short, meteoric sprint, it came to another screeching halt.

At the end of the private street the road intersected a major thoroughfare. In both directions, as far as the eye could see, it was jam packed with personal vehicles, commercial vehicles, carts, rickshaws, self-propelled contraptions of various configurations, and livestock.

"No! No! No!" cried M'Elise. "We'll never catch them in this!"

"Why not?" said Squirrel. "They'll be caught in this too." They all nodded. "The more important question is which way did they go?"

The old man snatched the remote back from Rose and mashed several buttons. They could hear a ringing tone from its speaker. After a few rings, someone answered.

"Oh, Widow Choudhary, it's the landlord", said the old man. "Now, now", he continued, after a loud protesting voice started. "I know you'll have that rent next week. That's not what I'm ringing you about." The voice sounded more mollified. "I know you like to keep tabs on things. Yes, yes, that's me down here in the town car. Hello." He put the microphone on mute. "Can someone roll down the window and wave?" The gunner did so. "Thanks." He clicked the pick-up back on.

"So, yeah. Did you see one of my vans leave a few minutes earlier?" He paused. "You did? The one that brought you that sofa last year? Yes, probably. OK, yes, the one that had the fender bender on State Street, yes. Yes! Thank you for your encyclopedic knowledge of every trivial detail of the neighborhood. But can you tell me... which way did they go?"

"Left", said the old man after the voice started up again. "Thank you widow", he said over the speaker. "Next month's rent is on me." He hung up.

The pilot had put on his left indicator but otherwise made no forward progress.

"Merging is a blood sport on Jopur", observed M'Elise.

After a minute they advanced a few feet when a gap opened because two drivers were arguing as one's ungulate had eaten a hole in the other's wickerwork body.

"Do you want me to get out and walk?" asked Rose sarcastically. "It would be faster."

The old man sighed in exasperation. "Oh, just shift into up."

"Up?" said the Pilot. "We can fly?" He looked around suspiciously. "Why isn't anyone else flying?"

"It's kind of tricky, given the orbital rotates", said the old man. "And it's illegal."

"Oh", said the Pilot. "But if it is illegal..."

"Are you, or are you not, the pilot of the José Fabuloso?" asked Squirrel. "Do you, or do you not, sneer at traffic violations?" she continued.

Rose hooked her thumb at the old man. "Grandpa here is, like, the head of organized crime here on Jopur. Do you think he cares if it's illegal?"

The Pilot set his jaw and ratcheted the gearstick down into the U slot. "Fabuloso!" he cried, and they shot into the air.

Within moments, bright pink police drones zeroed in on them and hailed them over loudspeakers. They did their best to ignore them and craned their heads out of the windows scanning the mass of traffic beneath them. It wasn't clear if there were no lanes, or if no one cared about the lanes. Certainly, the police drones seemed to find it more productive to shout at them rather than to hand out moving violation tickets.

"Let me guess", said M'Elise, "we're looking for a non-descript black van?"

Suddenly the vehicle lurched, and they lost half their height before recovering. Everyone shouted at the Pilot.

"It wasn't me!" he protested. "The engine just cut out."

Rose asked, "Like someone was using an inhibitor on the engine?"

"That could do it", said the Gunner. "Do you think the drones mount one?"

"Well, they've been threatening to use one on us for the last three minutes", said Rose, sarcastically.

They all went silent and could now hear, clearly, the drones counting down another three-minute warning.

"What's the penalty for interfering with police property?" asked the Engineer, speculatively.

"Inconsequential", said the old man.

He nodded, once. Then he pulled out a utility knife, a micro-welder, and a torsion wrench. With one minute to go he had a Y shaped bracket, a cross strap of stretchy interior fabric, and several lug bolts.

He leaned far out of the window, took aim, and pegged a drone square in the camera. It spun and dropped half its height. The Engineer grinned in satisfaction and took aim at the next. The drones, however, took the better part of valor and retreated to a safer distance.

"If I remember rightly", said M'Elise, "Jopur contracts out its police to the lowest bidder. So that hit them right on the bottom line."

They resumed their search. A few hundred lengths later and after several false starts, there was a pattering noise. The pilot cried out as thick, pink paint dribbled down the front window.

"They're using paint guns", said the Gunner. The drones had risen above their van and were dribbling paint from above.

"For heaven's sake', said Squirrel. "Let's put an end to this." She shifted over, pulled the Engineer out of the window, and leaned out of it. "We give up!" she shouted up at the drones waving a handkerchief. "We surrender. You win. Come down and apprehend us!"

The drones froze in a holding pattern while their operators conferred. Eventually one floated down hesitantly, on level with them.

"See", said Squirrel, holding her hands up. "We're ready to have our mug-shots taken." She smiled warmly. "Start with him." She drew back and slid the old man's wheel chair up against the window.

He scowled briefly, then, catching on, turned to the camera and gave it a broad wicked grin.

"Facial recognition software kicking in, in three, two, one..." Squirrel counted down.

The drones froze in their holding pattern for a few moments longer. Then there was a chirp and clatter and an orange ticket was ejected. The old man took it and the drones flew off.

"Well look at that", said the old man. "They're letting us off with a warning."

"You're welcome", said Squirrel, hauling him back and pushing the Engineer into the window. "Now find that truck."

It took them a while longer, but they eventually found the white panel truck enmeshed in a barely moving swath of traffic. They hovered for a while in frustration, wondering what to do.

"You know", said Squirrel, "if they all just got in lanes and waited their turn it wouldn't be this bad."

The old man looked at her like she was an alien. "You really aren't from around here."

"Do you think they even know we're after them?" asked the Gunner.

M'Elise shrugged. "Maybe they fell asleep."

Rose sat, chin in hand, and elbow on the window. "Worst. Chase. Ever."

They eventually settled for landing on the top of the truck. But even this went unnoticed. Other than for a nearby vendor to climb up and offer to sell them some slightly overripe piquant fruit. They bought two-dozen.

Squirrel and M'Elise put in a call to the ship and filled in Bikash and the kids about their progress. The kids gave a very detailed report of all their ministrations in Crosby's recovery. They even printed a few of the dozen or so get well soon cards the kids made and decorated the inside of the car with them. The old man took a nap.

An indefinite amount of time later, they became muzzily aware they were moving. They had all drifted off and took a while to realize they had separated from the jam and were moving at a moderate pace through the side streets.

"Get away you filthy beggars!" shouted the old man, coming suddenly awake.

"Chill dude", said Rose. "We chased them away hours ago."

Once they had fully roused themselves M'Elise directed the Pilot. "Take off and, up there, in the straight bit, set down facing the truck."

Their car glided up, shot ahead, and put down in plain sight. They barreled out of it and faced off against the oncoming truck in as an aggressive a posture as they could muster.

The truck glided to a halt in front of them.

M'Elise stood at the fore, the rest were in a V behind her, all still in their dress uniform.

"Nobody messes with the José Fabuloso", M'Elise said sternly at the tinted windscreen. "We're here to take back what..."

She trailed off as the truck edged into the other lane and glided past them.

"How rude!" exclaimed Squirrel.

"Back in! Back in!" cried M'Elise.

They piled in and took off again. It wasn't hard to catch up with it. They stuck to the starport speed limit for commercial vehicles and word seemed to have gotten out to the police drone operators not to mess with them.

But, at their next showdown, the truck calmly put on its left indicator, and turned.

"Inflation!" swore M'Elise. "That's some arrogance." They had got back in and were following once more.

"Harsh language isn't working", said Squirrel. "Other ideas?"

"I could weld up some caltrops", said the Engineer. Then, to everyone's blank looks. "Little spiky things. To puncture their tires."

"It's a grav vehicle, like us", pointed out Rose.

"We could ram it!" said the Pilot enthusiastically. No one shared his enthusiasm.

"We could board it", said the Gunner. "You know. Fly alongside, jump over, force entry."

"A _then_ use harsh language?" asked Rose.

"Have you got a better idea?" asked the Gunner, testily.

"No", said Rose. "I'm in."

Some more of the limousine's superstructure and safety restraints disappeared and the Engineer produced two improvised grapples.

They drew up alongside, the truck still oblivious to their pursuit. M'Elise and Rose leaned out with the grapples from the windows and at the front and rear of the vehicles, let fly, and pulled them tight alongside. The Gunner and Engineer climbed through the sunroof and, after a quick count, leaped across, reefed the door open, and flung themselves into the opening.

There was a brief struggle as they disappeared inside, and the door clicked shut behind them.

Several anxious moments passed.

Then, slowly, the tinted glass window scrolled down. The Engineer sat in the driver's seat looking puzzled. The Gunner was in the seat next to him. He shrugged. "There's no one here!"

They stared, dumbfounded, for a while.

"It's got an auto-pilot", said the Pilot. "Or its remotely operated."

They all sagged. "That would explain its asinine maneuvers", said M'Elise grumpily.

"Can we override it?" asked Rose, still pulling the grapple tight. "Or box it in?"

Squirrel turned to the old man. "Where's it going?"

The old man shrugged. "Some hidey hole of his. We have a lot of places off the grid for that sort of thing."

"But what's he going to _do_ with the drugs?" she asked. "Unless he's dealing with another co-op, he hasn't got a distribution network."

The old man's brow wrinkled. "There's too much bad blood between the co-ops to cut a deal." A thunderous expression crossed his face. "He's going to try to convince the new management to get back into narcotics."

"Just embracing my inner bitch here", said Squirrel. "But maybe we're going about this the wrong way."

The automated truck glided into a non-descript garage in a non-descript quiet sector of the orbital. The garage was larger on the inside than it seemed from the outside.

Lights flickered on and a very well-tailored man stood, expressionless. With deft maneuvers he operated a remote. A mobile lift undocked with precise movements and approached the rear of the truck. The truck's rear sliding door rattled up and the lift's lights shone into the body as it rode the lift to the deck level. There were moving blankets, miscellaneous crates, and stabilization sandbags in the corners of the truck. In the center, all alone other than a few bracing sandbags, was a palette with an array of colorful boxes on it.

Alphonse navigated the forks into the palette, lifted it, brought it back down the cargo lift and executed a perfect three-point turn. Only then did he smile a trim smile of self-satisfaction and turned to lead the palette away.

But then the cargo lift activated again, unexpectedly. Alphonse turned. Riding the wide lift back down was the old man in his wheelchair, flanked on left and right by the crew of the José Fabuloso, their dress uniforms trim and neat, arms crossed and looking stern.

"Why is it that the most fastidious and hands off are always the ones to advocate for the dirtiest business?" asked the old man, gliding up to him and looking at the palette in disgust.

"Whereas stagnation and decline are embraced by the... scruffy?" sneered Alphonse, taking in the crew with a glance.

"One thing about being old... and... scruffy", said the old man, casually, "is that you have a lot of bitter life experience to draw on." He glanced at the palette. "You haven't got the brains to see all the ways this won't work."

Alphonse snorted. "So says the figurehead." For the first time, almost a touch of anger crossed his face. "Who do you think did all of your work? While you were off at a fine dinner or having people shot, who made the business work? Who watched the margins so you could engage in your theater and frivolity? You always said 'this is business', but you never minded running it that way. It's time to start."

M'Elise laughed. "Spoke like a true accountant", she said, uncrossing her arms. "I'm sure it looks good on paper. But there are more things in heaven and earth, Alphonse, than are accounted for on your ledger." She glanced at her companions. "To ignore that is to imperil your enterprise."

Alphonse looked at her disdainfully. "This? From a comptroller who dumped a full load of cargo to save an empty box? And _you_ lecture _me_ about life choices? My brother was right. You were fools enough to be the tools we needed."

Squirrel stamped her foot in anger. "You knowingly put my family in danger", she raged. "I _trusted_ you."

"You trusted _me_ ", said the old man gently. "And I trusted _you_ ", he said to Alphonse. "You betrayed that trust."

"This is _business_ ", said Alphonse. "Something you never understood." He sneered. "All your little jaunts, celebrity dinners, charitable events and", he glared at the crew, "pet projects... They all took away from the bottom line and never added to it."

"I found a family", said the old man.

"Family?" said Alphonse. "Family are just fools, attached by sentimentality that you can manipulate to your own ends."

"I wonder if your brother feels the same", said Rose, sarcastically. A few of the crew sniggered.

Alphonse glared angrily, then composed himself. "This is irrelevant. You don't matter", he said to the old man. "You don't matter", he said to the crew. "You are just tools to be used. A means to an end. The only one who matters is our new leader. He is not in your shadow. He is ready to see how things should be done."

"You seem so sure of that", said the old man, more with sadness than with anger.

"Of course," said Alphonse, slightly confused. "He's smart. He's intelligent. He's well trained. Like me."

"Well, don't let us keep you", said M'Elise. "Run along. Make your pitch. May Brega bless your slides."

Alphonse's eyes narrowed. He looked them up and down. No weapons were visible, and no one was going for any. He huffed, started to say something, stopped, then turned the palette away.

"Good bye Alphonse", said the old man.

Alphonse turned once, hesitating slightly, and then pushed his load down the dim corridor.

They watched as he faded into the gloom. The old man shook his head.

"Do you think he'll chicken out before he gets there?" said a new voice.

"Yargh!" screamed Squirrel, jumping out of her skin. "Where did you come from?"

"'!'" exclaimed M'Elise in joy. "Come to join the party?"

'!' smirked. The paisley pattern on her flowing caftan moved and swirled, colors running back into it turning the muted black and grey into more vibrant colors. "I just wanted to see what you did with the information I gave you."

"I trust we were predictable", said M'Elise.

'!' shrugged. "In outcome, yes. In method... not so much."

"He won't chicken out", said the old man, watching the darkness. "Not after we pressed all his buttons like that."

"We are masters at button pushing", said Rose, and fist bumped her mother.

"I'd love to be a fly on the wall at that meeting", said M'Elise, looking meaningfully at '!'.

"It would be indiscrete to spy directly on the head of The Cooperative", '!' said.

The old man snorted.

"Doesn't matter", he said. "Even if he's tempted for five minutes, he'll change his mind once he realizes the drugs aren't there."

'!' nodded reflexively, then stopped. She looked at him quizzically. "What. Was it really an empty crate?" A slow smile spread across the old man's face. "Where did you switch it? Where are the drugs?" She looked astonished. "Were there no drugs to begin with?"

M'Elise couldn't hold it anymore and laughed. She went to punch '!''s arm but thought better of it. "No, no", she said, recovering. Then she tilted her head. "They're in the van. We swapped them for sandbags on the way here."

'!' regained her composure. "Well, then."

"They're all yours" said the old man. Squirrel tossed her the keys. "I trust you'll dispose of them well."

The keys disappeared out of the air. "Indeed. I'm sure you'll see the news when they turn up in some official's private residence after an anonymous police tip off."

"I thought you were assassins", said Squirrel.

'!' looked down her nose at her. "When necessary, we assassinate those who have become problematic to someone." Then she smiled thinly. "When we're paid enough, we assassinate their character."

"Remind me never to get on your bad side", said Squirrel.

They left Alphonse to his ends. They retrieved their few belongings from the van and left it in '!''s hands.

"Give my regards to Dame Xavier", said the old man.

"She encourages you to visit", said '!'.

The old man nodded and looked at his chair. "I'd hate to slow her down."

'!' shrugged and drove off.

Squirrel bent over his shoulder. "Sometimes happiness is staring you straight in the face. You just have to reach out and take it."

He looked briefly at her cleavage, refrained from making a comment, and met her eyes. "Maybe so."

There was a sudden gagging cough from M'Elise. She sputtered and spat and wiped her tongue on her sleeve as tears streamed from her eyes. "That stuff does _not_ improve with age." She held a bottle of absinth at arm's length as she blinked her eyes clear. "Maybe I should just toss it."

She looked over mischievously at the old man who was rolling his chair towards her.

"Now that's happiness I can reach out and take!" he said.

M'Elise toyed with him a while, holding it out of reach. Until he barked her shins with his chair. Then she relented. "OK, fine", she said. "Enjoy your first taste of freedom. Courtesy of the crew of the José Fabuloso."

"Fabuloso!" the rest cheered, spontaneously.

Some time later they all sat among more half-melted confection in a brightly colored ice cream parlor.

The kids had turned their nose up at the high-end gelato establishment the old man had suggested. It didn't have enough variety of colored sauces or sugar pellets. They also didn't like the function room at the place with enough colors, comparing it to the cargo hold of the ship.

So, instead, they crammed a bunch of tables together in the main area and a succession of waiters kept as much coming as they liked. Their service improved dramatically when the old man negotiated for a generous tip, and the crew's mood similarly improved when an arrangement was made for drink orders to be fetched and served from a neighboring establishment.

The kids were in paradise. They had as much ice cream as they could stomach, and full access to the 'premium' selection of syrups, toppings, and sugar pellets in crazy shapes, colors, and many in gold foil.

When they weren't eating, they were parading around advising other patrons on their selections, or, on their insistence, sharing their own premium concoctions.

That and chasing the cat. For they had also brought Crosby, whom they declared needed some shore leave after the duct tape incident. The engineer had rigged up a tracking device to his collar and set an alarm for when he wandered off. Fortunately, he never went far or fast on account of his crossed eyes. Walking in a straight line was already a challenge for him. Mostly he sat among the crockery, looking bemused, or slept on the Gunner's plate.

The crew, in general, were in high spirits. The old man had paid fair market price for the rights to the cargo they stashed, and so there were bonuses all around. He also gave them leave to dock as long as they liked in his berth, so an extended shore leave was declared. There were more ways to lose money in Jopur than any other port in the 40 Worlds, and now they had time to do so.

That, and the open bar, put them in the best mood they had ever been in. A few of them were slipping drinks to Rose, not entirely unnoticed by Squirrel, who had developed some expertise in the subject at her daughter's age. But she let it slip. Rose became very silly for a while, and then promptly fell asleep. Squirrel smiled in her own memories.

M'Elise wiped the faces of the children for the umpteenth time and sat heavily next to Squirrel. The old man was letting them pilot his chair around the place, harassing wait staff and patrons alike. But, generally, without much acrimony as most had already had their meals paid for in response to previous incidents.

A cheer of 'Fabuloso!' went up as another round of drinks arrived through the back door.

"I think they'll stay this time", said Squirrel to M'Elise.

"Huh?" asked M'Elise, a bit muzzy.

"The crew", explained Squirrel. "I think they'll stick with us."

"Yes", agreed M'Elise. "They're a good crew."

They sat back and surveyed the scene. "You should probably learn their names", said Squirrel.

"What?" M'Elise sputtered. "I do. I mean... I've never not had a name when I needed it."

"Having a little blinker on your clipboard that flashes the name of who you are talking to doesn't count", said Squirrel, knowingly.

M'Elise coughed and looked embarrassed. "Well, OK". She looked around at everyone. "They deserve at least that." She put her drink down and took a deep breath. "Speaking of which..." She stood up and clapped her hands a few times. "Hey! Hey! Everyone! Crew meeting!"

There were some groans, some cheers, but most responded out of curiosity. Someone woke up Rose.

M'Elise struck a pose. "As Executive Officer of the José Fabuloso VII", she turned aside to Squirrel, "Seven?" Squirrel nodded. "Seven! I'd like to call a ship meeting to order." And before anyone could complain, "A _quick_ meeting. After which there will be _more_ drinks." Everyone became a lot more patient.

"First a thanks to all of our crew for putting life and reputation on the line. You pulled through and delivered a very difficult shipment for our factor." There were cheers of 'Fabuloso' and M'Elise raised her glass to the old man, who returned the salute.

"And secondly", she continued, "There is the matter of the acting Captain." They all turned to Crosby who was obliviously licking cream off his remaining fur. There were a few cheers and cries of 'promotion'.

"No, no", admonished M'Elise. "There is only one Captain of the José Fabuloso." She paused for a nostalgic moment. "Although it has been fun, I think it is time Acting Captain Crosby's tenure came to an end." There were a few boos.

"His insightful leadership may be a hard act to follow, but" M'Elise hesitated, and then continued quickly, "I would like to propose Squirrel as our new acting Captain."

There was reflexive cheering, including from Squirrel, until she realized M'Elise was being serious. "Wait, what?" she said. She stood up to look M'Elise in the eye, and everyone cheered again. Squirrel ignored them.

"What are you doing?" she asked M'Elise. "This is your gig. This is your ship. You've been actually trained in this."

M'Elise shrugged. "I'm a bean counter", she explained. "I'm not a people person. This..." she gestured around at the crew. "This is all because of you."

"This is because of everyone", objected Squirrel.

"Yes", said M'Elise. "It takes a village. Blah, blah, blah. That's all well and good. But who makes it a village?" She shook her head. "You can't put that in a spreadsheet." She looked at Squirrel seriously. "I don't want to turn into Alphonse. The lesson is not lost on me. I need you to do this. _We_ need you to do this."

Squirrel was silent for a while. Then she opened her mouth but M'Elise interrupted her.

"And don't try to mediate your way out of it", cautioned M'Elise.

Squirrel pouted at her. Then she became serious as well. "I kind of pushed my way onto this ship. I didn't believe it when you actually gave me a chance. And now you want me to be Captain?"

"Acting Captain", said M'Elise. "But I think José would approve."

"For the wrong reasons", protested Squirrel.

"True", agreed M'Elise. "But that doesn't make it wrong."

They met each other's eyes for a long time. Something intangible passed.

"Let's put it to a vote", proclaimed M'Elise.

"Do it!" shouted Rose. Others took up the cry and soon the whole establishment was cheering.

Squirrel sighed expressively and acquiesced. There were more cheers. M'Elise picked up the cat and mimed an official passing of the title. Then the crew lifted her up in a chair and paraded her around the Ice Cream Parlor. Everyone cheered and followed.

The neighbors noted the experience and it became a story for some time. But beyond a few streets there were other stories to fill the night with. Jopur had more people than anywhere else. Each with their own drama, and their own stories. All woven together into the tapestry that made the 40 worlds.

