 
### The Bright Black Sea

### The Lost Star Stories Volume One

### C. Litka

Copyright 2015 Charles Litka

Smashwords Version 6.1 (August 2018)

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Dedication

This book is dedicated to my grandchildren; Sadie and Bryce. Both are avid writers, storytellers, and Star Wars fans

I would like to thank the readers who have taken the time and effort to point out errors in the text, making this story more enjoyable for future readers – Sally, Greg, Carlos, Walt, Steven, and others who have mentioned typos in their reviews. Thank you. I truly appreciate your efforts.

I would be happy to correct any remaining errors, and welcome your comments. Email me at cmlitka@gmail.com

Background information, charts, and a character list for _The Bright Black Sea_ can be found and downloaded here:  The Bright Black Sea Information Page

In addition, information on my other novels, upcoming works, and contact information is available on my blog here:

C. Litka's Works in Words Blog

### Part One – The Captain of the Lost Star

### Chapter 01 Captain (Acting)

'You'll see my ship safely – and profitably, mind you – around and back. Am I making myself clear, Litang?'

Captain Fen Miccall's voice was faint, barely heard over the hum of the machines he lay under, keeping him alive.

'We've gone around often enough, Captain, I'm sure we can do it again,' I replied. I had served aboard the Lost Star long enough to have circled Azminn's planetary belt twenty-nine times, and some of old crew had circled it more than a hundred times.

'That's an evasive answer,' he whispered, watching me with half closed eyes.

'Ah, yes.'

'Yes, it's an evasive answer? Or yes, you'll see her around?' he asked, summoning a ghost of his old fire. Well, it was his beloved ship he was entrusting to me – Neb help him...

Nothing to do but, 'Yes, I'll take her around and return her to you – with a profit – in six months,' adding, with all the confidence I could muster, 'I promise.' Neb help me...

'Do that, Litang,' he said faintly and closed his eyes.

'Get well, Captain,' I muttered, and began to edge away. 'And fair orbits, Sir.'

'Fair orbits, Captain,' he whispered and started to cough, gasping for breath.

We left him behind 37 hours later. All the healing technology of the med-center failed to keep Fen Miccall on this side of the event horizon – dying less than a day later, after a long and eventful life, his actual age lost in his hidden past.

May you live in interesting times is an ancient curse – said to go back to Terra itself. As curses go, I thought it innocent enough, until Miccall appointed me acting captain and times got interesting.

I'd been the Lost Star's first mate for five years and, like most first mates, I'd a master's ticket tucked away in my sock drawer for the day in the (distant) future when I'd be offered a ship of my own. So when old Captain Miccall's heart suddenly gave out on Calissant, my acting appointment might've seemed a matter of course. Nevertheless, it caught me completely off guard.

You see, my predecessor at first mate, and mentor, Illynta Tin, was still on board, semi-retired as one of the pilots. With nearly 150 years of service in space – ten times mine – I had assumed she'd be appointed acting captain. And if not her, one of the half dozen old hands with as many or more years in space, who likely had the required Guild ticket stashed away somewhere as well. So when I was offered the berth by Captains Miccall and Hawker Vinden, the ship's co-owners, I was taken aback, and lacked the courage to decline.

Oh, I could do the job, at least aboard the Lost Star. As Captain Miccall's fiery energy waned, he'd left more of the day-to-day running of the ship to me, so I knew what needed to be done. And I knew the crew would carry on just as they had under Captain Miccall. Running the ship was not an issue. Rather, it was the sudden burden of being solely responsible for it, the crew, and its profits, which made times interesting for me. Any life and death decision would be mine now, rather than Miccall's. And while I'd no reason to expect anything but a routine passage around Azminn's planetary belt, it was space travel, after all, and things can happen. I was far from sure I was ready for that burden.

Still, as I said, turning the berth down required more courage than I could summon and so I became Wil Litang, Captain (Acting) of the Lost Star. A day later, I took the Lost Star out of Calissant orbit bound for the planet of Redazle, one of the 21 planets in our star's human-habitable planetary belt.

Azminn is one of nine stars in the Nine Star Nebula. The nebula was formed when the Ninth Star, a super massive giant star flung off much of its mass while trying and failing to go super-nova. It collapsed into the black star – the Ninth Star – leaving a dense lens-shaped nebula of gas, asteroids and eight daughter stars, each surrounded by rings of planets. In all, the eight stars governed by the Unity boast 211 human inhabited worlds. In addition, there are said to be hundreds of human inhabited planets within the drifts – the vast gas, dust and asteroid belts that make up the Ninth Star Nebula.

I managed to find Redazle, and made orbit, without incident. Two radio-packets from Captain Hawker Vinden awaited us. The first reported Captain Miccall's death. It seemed that his body, with more than 200 years and countless adventures behind him, was too old and worn out to be repaired by the machines of the med-center. The second, reaffirmed my acting appointment until our return to our home port world of Calissant, where presumably, though politely left unsaid, a more senior member of Captain Vinden's Night Hawk Line would be given permanent command of the Lost Star. Which, at the time, suited me just fine – the sooner I could hand over the captain's responsibilities and return to my comfortable berth as first mate, the happier I'd have been.

Arriving in Jornvan's planetary orbit a month later, we heard whispers that the system's Import-Export Exchange Market on Pinelea was a bit unstable, something not unusual. Interplanetary trade is inherently unstable. This time, however, it was said, in hushed tones over strong drinks in the dark dens where ship's captains, agents, and shipbrokers gather, it was really unstable.

This instability is a result of Unity policy. The Unity, which governs the worlds of the Nine Star Nebula, requires that planets maintain their interplanetary import and exports strictly in balance. This policy prevents older, wealthier, and more populated planets from carving out economic empires within the Unity. Whatever advantage this has in securing political stability, it means that any change in the exports or imports of one planet, every crop shortfall, change in fashion, or rise or fall in demand sends ripples through the entire interplanetary trading market, forcing every planet to re-balance their trade. The Import-Export Market serves to dampen these ripples by quickly finding new exporters or importers to step in to take advantage of the disruptions. Occasionally, however, these small ripples combine to form a rogue wave of disruption that knocks interplanetary trade completely out of its orbit – sometime for years. These disruptions are tolerated because interplanetary trade accounts for only a thin sliver of a planet's total economic activity, which is little comfort to a spaceer out of work and none to a tramp ship's captain trying to find enough cargo to produce the promised profit.

Arriving in Sanre-tay orbit – 93 days out from Calissant – we found a radio-packet awaiting us from Min & Co, our shipbrokers and accounting firm. It informed us that Captain Vinden had been killed in a needle-rocket racer accident and that we were now owned in trust by the Ministry of Probate on Calissant – commonly referred to as the Ministry of Death – until the ship's heirs could be identified and the assets passed to them. Until then, we'd be managed by Min & Co acting for the Ministry. Life just kept getting ever more interesting.

Adding to this blow, was the fact that the Import-Export Market had indeed collapsed under the weight of a series of economic upheavals on half a dozen planets, the tidal wave of collapsing trade was spreading around the planetary belt from the Pinelea quarter.

Outbound from Calissant we'd been ahead of this economic tidal wave and our business unaffected. Sanre-tay lays on the opposite side from Pinelea in the planetary belt, so we now had to sail back towards Pinelea and Calissant and into this black hole of trade. It didn't take long to find that the inbound cargoes we normally collected were either much reduced or non-existent.

And to make everything even more interesting, Min & Co sent word that as a result of this catastrophic trade decline, the Ministry of Death was paying off Captain Vinden's ships as they returned to Calissant rather than risk losing credits by keeping them in operation – a fate I couldn't avoid, though I tried. I spent an extra month tramping amongst the planets between Sanre-tay and Saypori, taking any opportunity to make a little profit for as long as possible. Eventually, however, I had to take on board the much reduced inbound containers of our old customers – we'd need them again, someday – and with delivery deadlines looming, turned the Lost Star for home and the beach.

If there's a platinum asteroid in this drift, it's that I now have something interesting to write about. I've long wanted to write a plain and unadorned account of the life of a spaceer aboard a tramp ship in the 40th millennium of the Nine Star Nebula Unity. The problem is that the life of a spaceer – at least in the planetary trade I'm familiar with – is perhaps a little too plain and unadorned – one planet-fall much like every other, one passage little different from the next. (Which, I might add, is the way you want them. You don't want excitement in space.) But now, by setting this life against all the interesting events of the last four months and the uncertainty of the future, I can, perhaps, craft a story of sorts.

I intend to avoid spicing up my account with the familiar myths and memes of the Nebula. You'll not find lawless asteroid miners from the deep drifts, cut throat pirates, ruthless smugglers, deadly assassins or homicidal robots blasting their way into this account. I've no intention of tossing in drift dragons, ghost ships, quantum storms, black matter reefs, or any of the other nonsense invented by old spaceers and space fiction writers to enliven their tales. I've worked aboard space ships for twenty years and have yet to be able to spin such a yarn without first adding the disclaimer, "I once knew an old spaceer who claimed..." And just to be clear, that's as close as I care to steer to pirates, drift dragons, sinister robots and the like. I believe I can paint an interesting picture of life and work within the tiny, restless world of interplanetary ships without resorting to fiction.

But enough palaver. I'll launch my account from Belbania orbit – 175 Days out of Calissant orbit – with what I've come to think of as "The Belbania Affair".

### Chapter 02 The Belbania Affair

The Belbania Affair can be said to have begun with the receipt of a radio-packet from Min & Co. ordering us to remain in Belbania orbit pending the arrival of another of the late Captain Vinden's ships, the Comet King. No explanation offered.

Normally extra days in Belbania orbit would've been welcomed – not that we ever clear Belbania in a great hurry. Nobody hurries on Belbania. It's a soft world, mostly warm seas speckled with green islands complete with white beaches, lush volcanic peaks, friendly, easygoing and often naked people. But I was up against delivery deadlines. And times weren't normal. And the lack of explanation left me uneasy. And I couldn't shake the feeling I should've missed that radio-packet and left Belbania orbit as soon as the last lighter cleared.

The Comet King arrived two days later and I drifted down to the ship's landing stage to await the arrival of her captain, Zelbe Jann. Azminn, our sun, faintly haloed in dust and gas, hung low over the vivid blue and white arc of Belbania, flooding the landing stage in ruddy light through the clearsteel hull. I paced the deck, occasionally glancing at the Comet King, a bright silver dagger in the marbled night sky three kilometers off.

I'd only two theories why we here held – neither explained the knot in my gut. Theory one was that I was to be superseded as captain by Jann's first mate, Seni Shir, who, rumor had it, was the leading candidate to replace Miccall. Though my acting appointment was slated to end upon our return to Calissant, if the managers of the Night Hawk Line wanted to reward Shir with a captain's appointment, now was the time – before the Ministry of Death paid us off. For the last 175 days I'd been looking forward to reverting back to first mate, but could that knot be saying I'd miss being captain now?

My second theory was even more innocent – Jann found himself with a few containers for Pinelea and Calissant and hoped to avoid the beach by handing them off to me. I'd be happy to accommodate him. The Lost Star had fifty-two containers for Pinelea and Calissant so we couldn't avoid that particular fate. Doing Jann a favor would cost me nothing. But again, why the uneasy?

Glancing across to the Comet King, I caught the spark of the gig pulling away from the ship and paused to watch its flight. There was the brief flare of the gig's main rockets, a flash of light as the gig was flipped and the flare of the main rockets once more to decelerate. Jann was in a hurry – steering rockets alone would've sufficed for three kilometers.

I took a final turn around the landing stage. Astro and Orbit, the ship's dogs, paced me. They're both standard-issue spaceship mutts, tall and thin and equipped with magnetic implants in their paws to keep them anchored on the deck in free fall. They've been aboard the Lost Star longer than I and had developed a strange ability to sense when company was coming. They'd been waiting on the landing stage when I arrived and were far more excited by the prospect of Jann than I was. As the gig loomed close, maneuvering to align with the extended gangplank, they started barking and bounding about, threatening to lose all contact with the deck. I pressed my hands down on their backs to keep them attached. You don't want excited dogs floating about.

Jann aligned the gig's hatch with the gangplank's capture lock and made contact. The articulated tube curved a full meter, springs creaking as it absorbed the boat's excess velocity.

Neb, that annoyed me. Any pilot worth a pile of drift dust can match speeds finer than that. Jann could, but never bothered – always in too much of a hurry. Ram you, damn you, is his style. I took a breath and reminded myself to stay pleasant and diplomatic.

The safety door on my end of the gangplank slid open and the dogs bounded eagerly forward on the thrust of an incidental paw on the gangplank deck. I followed them with greater restraint. At the far end, the air lock opened and Jann swung out, planting his magnetic, bio-controlled boots on the deck, and stood to take the charge of the hounds.

When no one followed him out, the knot in my gut untangled a little.

Jann's a Jornvanian, a heavy worlder, with a large square framed body that a century in space has left lank and loose, but still imposing. He sports a trim black beard with fierce eyes deep set under dark bushy eyebrows. Neither in looks, nor in fact, is he a fellow to trifle with.

'Down lads! And I don't need your kisses!' Jann commanded as Astro and Orbit eagerly bounced about him. He greeted the dogs with rough affection and extending his large hand to me, booming, 'Great to see you again Wil... pardon me, Captain Litang.'

'Welcome aboard Captain Jann. It's good to see you again, as well,' I said, shaking his hand. 'Wil is fine.'

'No it's Captain Litang. We need to talk captain to captain.'

'In that case, let's go up to the office,' I replied, indicating access well and stairs at the far end of the landing.

I felt a dart of joy. Seni may have dodged a comet, being a first mate in space might be better than being an unemployed captain on the beach – I'd likely find out – but I was still captain, and to my surprise, I was happy.

Reaching the access well, we jumped to start up the well shaft. The dogs bounded up the steep stairs that wrap around two sides of the well. They're hapless in the access well. When the whim strikes them – as it occasionally does, Neb knows why – they inevitable end up as frantically flaying derelicts barking for a tow.

Grabbing a pole as we reached the top, we swung out and planted our magnetic soles on to the bridge deck. I waved Jann into the ship's office across the companionway, followed him in, chased the dogs out and slid the door-panel closed. 'Grab a seat and take a load off your soles,' I said, slipping around the desk. I wanted to be on the captain's side of the desk if (or likely when) thrust came to blast.

Chairs in free fall are not strictly necessary but standing anchored to the deck on one's magnetic soles for long conversations is wearisome. Floating has its place, (honeymoons in orbit are quite popular) but can be awkward and undignified. So even in free fall, parking your trouser seat magnets on chair is still the most natural way to relax.

'Can I offer you a drink?' I asked as he settled into one of the chairs. 'A globe of Ysent rum?' A Jann favorite.

'Thanks, but business first. I take it you received the radio-packet from Min & Co ordering you to wait on my arrival?'

'Aye, I'm still here though I'm up against delivery contracts,' I replied with a slightly bitter laugh, adding, 'And without explanation, I might add.'

'We thought it best for me to deliver that explanation in person. Radio-packets can be lost, misinterpreted, or ignored,' he remarked giving me a wink. 'I trust you've read the trade advisories and analysis Min & Co has been sending out.'

'Aye. Not that they matter. I can't avoid Calissant and the beach.'

'Well Captain, we've a plan to help you avoid the beach. Tallith Min, Pilot and Purser's daughter is back and now in charge of Min & Co. I've been in contact with her. Together we've devised a plan we hope will save the Lost Star from being paid off and keep the Night Hawk Line operating while Vinden's estate is sorted out.'

'Sounds very encouraging,' I assured him, trying to keep my sudden wariness out of my voice. 'What's the plan?' And what lay behind his obviously rehearsed sell? He certainly didn't need one merely to hand over half a dozen boxes...

'As you can imagine, the Ministry of Death has neither the expertise nor interest in running tramp ships.'

'That's clear enough.'

'Moreover, the Ministry has only started the process of cataloging Hawker Vinden's holdings, so the details of the distribution haven't been released. Given the tangled web of cross-ownership and the shell companies our Calissant tramp ship owners love, the process will likely take many months. The key issue is that any losses incurred by the shipping line comes out of the assets of the estate, possibly reducing the inheritance of the legatees who do not inherit the ships. Given the Ministry's duty to protect the interests of all the legatees you can see why, with shipping prospects so dismal, the Ministry is laying up Captain Hawker's ships as they arrive home...'

I nodded. 'Makes sense – assuming the ships will operate at a loss.' Which, I must admit, was a discouragingly likely assumption.

'Exactly! Tallith Min believes she can use that logic to keep profitable ships running,' he continued enthusiastically. 'If a ship is making a profit, those profits and future profits should benefit all the legatees. Plus, taking profitable ships out of service, dispersing crews and abandoning customers will make it much harder for the eventual legatees of the ships to get the Night Hawk Line up and running again when the estate is cleared.' He paused and gave me a measuring stare before continuing, 'Of course, for this line of reasoning to work, you need ships showing a profit, which is where the Lost Star comes in...'

'But certainly not all of the other five ships they've laid up were in the red?' I didn't think it was simply a matter of profit. Convenience had to have something to do with it.

'Their profits hardly covered the expenses of paying them off and laying them up. Plus, those ships were laid up prior to Tallith Min's return. However competent Kardea is at managing Min & Co, she wasn't in a position to question Ministry's orders. As the firm's owner, Tallith Min is willing to challenge the Ministry to keep a profitable ship sailing.'

'That sounds encouraging.' Still something still did not chart right. 'We kept ahead of the collapse outbound. I should show a respectable profit for this voyage.'

For the last half century, the Lost Star has operated almost like a scheduled cargo liner, circling the Azminn system twice each year, calling on the twenty-one planets serving over a hundred regular shippers. The outbound cargo had been normal, only the inbound ones were reduced. Jann's Comet King operates as more as a pure tramp, running cargoes within the Sanre-tay, Rigtania and Pinelea sectors. If he'd been careful, he'd not been caught with too many Pinelea/Calissant containers in his hold before it became clear what the Ministry of Death's policy was.

But had he been careless, or caught unaware? I was beginning to wonder...

'Tallith Min is quite pleased with your performance, and she believes the Lost Star will make a strong case with the Ministry,' he said, watching me closely.

'Not that we've a choice. Or do we?'

He ignored that. 'We also need to keep the remaining Night Hawk Line ships operating in the Sanre-tay and Rigtania sectors where there's still cargoes to be had. With only four ships in operation, we can ill afford to send even one on to Calissant to establish the precedent. Our priority is keeping the remaining ships operating out of the Ministry's rather limited oversight.'

'Yes, I can see that. And I'd be happy to take a couple in-bound boxes off your hands as we've done in the past,' I said, to cut his sell short. 'I don't need to be sold on the idea.'

'Excellent. We're ready to start the transfer immediately,' he said, but without the relief he should've shown if it was really a clear course.

'How many inbound boxes do you have for me?' The real issue.

'Forty-seven. Min has already cleared it with the shippers and completed the documentation for the transfer. As the operation will take some time, the sooner we get at it, the sooner you're on your way.'

'Forty-seven! Why I've only fifty-two myself!' I exclaimed, thinking rapidly. 'I'd been happy to take half a dozen as a we've done in the past, but you've nearly as many on board as I have. That's a star of a different color. No wonder I wasn't included on your plans. Sorry, you can't just shift those boxes to me. We need to agree on a fairer solution.'

I'm a cautious fellow. But with my appointment ending on Calissant, and the Lost Star likely being paid off as well – plan or no plan – I didn't have much in the way of future prospects to worry about. The Comet King could go on to Calissant just as readily as we could, and that made all the difference. I've not been a first mate for five years without learning something about the business of running a tramp ship.

'It's not a favor. It's an order, Litang,' Jann said, his forbidding face growing more dangerous. 'The reason you're going in is that with Fen Miccall's passing, I'm the line's most senior Captain, its commodore. At the risk of sounding vain, without Captains Vinden and Miccall the line needs someone with my experience at the helm. I intend to make sure the Night Hawk Line continues to operate and you'll do your part, which is to take my boxes on to Calissant.'

'The Lost Star is the line's senior ship and Captains Cringtin and ZaTarn are perfectly competent to carry on. As for being commodore, well, you can call captains' meetings to order, but it doesn't give you the lift to order us about.'

'I'll not engage in petty personal attacks, Litang, and I'd expected better from you,' he shot back, adding, 'The line has been good to you. A ship's captain after only – how many years with the company?'

'Fifteen years...' I admitted.

'A ship's captain after only fifteen years. And by Neb, it's only fifteen years in space, isn't it?

'I was a lighter pilot for five years and a Trade Control pilot for three before signing on the Lost Star...'

He dismissed my in-system experience with a wave of his hand. 'Hawker and Fen where very generous to you and showed a great deal of trust appointing you acting captain. But now, when asked to repay that trust, to be loyal to their memory and shipping line, you rear up and protest. This isn't about me, Litang. It's about protecting their legacy. And it's about following orders whether you like them or not,' he said, ending with a fierce glare.

'Captain Miccall also taught me how to be a tramp ship's captain. I know what's required of me and I'm afraid I must respectfully decline to proceed with this scheme as proposed.'

'You're required to follow these orders...' he flared.

I shook my head. 'I think not.'

The "Night Hawk Line" existed only in Captain Hawker Vinden's mind. As the majority owner of the nine tramp ships, he operated his ships co-cooperatively as a "line" though in fact, each ship was set up as a separate company. (Several, in fact.) The Lost Star and Comet King are two distinct companies. Min & Co. may oversee our operations but I'm the operating officer of the Lost Star and only needed to concern myself with the Lost Star. Loyalty cuts both ways, they hadn't consulted me, so blast Jann's cant of loyalty.

I continued, 'I am responsible to my owner, which, at this point is the Ministry of Probate. I've received neither authorization nor instructions from the Ministry, nor from Min & Co to take on your cargo...'

'I can show you the radio-packets from Tallith Min confirming the orders to transfer my cargo to the Lost Star.'

'Oh, I believe you. But, I've no orders. Now as a general rule I'm quite prepared to follow instructions from Min & Co without such formality, but not in this case. I don't need your cargo for Min's plan to work. And while I see the clear advantage of only one of us going on to Calissant, I don't see any reason why it has to be me.'

'I'll have Min send you orders to that effect.'

'I'm afraid I'm rather pressed for time.' And I reached out to touch the communicator field on the desktop, opening a line to my first mate standing watch on the bridge. 'Illy, please advise Riv and Eljor that we'll be leaving orbit within the hour.' I closed the link and looked to Jann, 'I'm going to have to cut this short, we're behind schedule and need to sail. You're welcome to travel on to Calissant as my guest, Captain, but I'm sure you'd rather travel aboard your own ship.'

'You wouldn't dare, Litang. It'll break you.'

'Maybe. Likely. No matter. Our crews are old tramp hands. They know how planets spin and Night Hawk Line operates. They'd know the Comet King could sail to Calissant just as readily as the Lost Star. And they'd know you can't force me to take on your blasted cargo. I'm not certain it's even within the scope of Min & Co.'s operating authority. You can only try to intimidate, but I've so little to lose I can't be intimidated. You've no lift.'

'Listen, Litang,' he growled rising to his feet and leaning over the desk, not that it was any obstacle in free fall. 'I don't give a damn what your shipmates think and neither should you. I'm the one you don't want to cross. You don't want to cross me.'

'Blast away,' I fired back. Then more pleasantly added, 'Really, Captain, you've tried your line and failed to make orbit. Roles reversed, I may've tried the same line myself. No hard feelings. However, I don't need the ghost of Captain Miccall standing over my shoulder to tell me how you and he would've settled this. I won't settle for anything less.'

He stood glaring down at me for several very long seconds, giving me the impression he was weighing his chances of getting away with murder.

Finally, he growled, 'Get them out.'

I let out my breath.

### Chapter 03 Pinelea Orbit

Pinelea orbit, 194 days out of Calissant orbit.

'I have it, Tilli,' I radioed, as I felt the cargo crane latch on to the shipping container. A green light on the console confirmed it.

'It's yours,' replied Tilli, releasing the container from the lighter's cargo arm, clearing the last red light.

We were over the night side of Pinelea, its cities glowing jewels in the velvet darkness beneath us. Through the clearsteel dome of the raised cargo tower I could see Tilli's lighter, bright in our flood lights, hanging in space above no.1 hold. It was a standard two box lighter, a stubby, delta winged craft with wingtip rocket engines designed to ferry two 4x4x24meter shipping containers between surface and orbit. She'd pushed the container out of the lighter's rear cargo doors and it now hung at the end of the spider-like cargo crane between the lighter and the ship. I carefully drew the container away from the lighter.

'You're clear.'

'Right. That's all I have for you,' she replied as the rear cargo doors of the lighter swung closed.

She'd just delivered the last of only five containers waiting for us on Pinelea, the Azminn system's most populous planet. Given the current shipping rates, the boxes would not cover their share of rocket fuel, so I wasn't too disappointed. Still...

'Ah, Til, can't you find a few more in the warehouse to bring up? Five boxes aren't going to have me swinging back around anytime soon. How will you get by without me?'

'Sorry, it's damn hollow downside at the moment. And I've other customers, so I'll get by.'

'But I'll wager none of them are acting captains, my dear.'

'None of them are acting captains...' she laughed, adding, 'Still, five boxes are nothing to sneer at these days. Not that you seem to need them, Captain Litang. I haven't seen a tramp with so many boxes in their holds for ages. Even the liners are running half empty.'

'I'm good. But I'd be sadly misleading you if I didn't mention that Jann of the Comet King sent along his boxes with me.'

'He did, did he? That was nice of him. How many?'

'Forty-seven,' I admitted.

She whistled. 'He sent forty-seven boxes with you? That's not a cargo to sneer at these days. Why'd he give 'em to you? Knowing Jann, I doubt that it was out of the kindness of his heart.'

'It wasn't out of the kindness of his heart, that I can assure you!' I laughed.

'You have me curious. What's the yarn Wil? There's nothing waiting for me downside.'

'Well, with the death of Hawker Vinden, Calissant's Ministry of Death is now our acting owners...'

'Aye, I heard that somewhere.'

'Have you heard that the Ministry is laying up all Vinden's ships as they returned to Calissant?'

'A lot of tramps being laid up, so that's not surprising.'

'Aye. But with the Ministry of Death it's simply a matter of policy. Profitable ships, unprofitable ships, it doesn't matter – pay'em off and lay'em up.'

'So Jann wasn't ready for the beach and he handed them off to you. I can see that clear enough. Where I'm in the drifts is why you'd take them. Unless it's out of the kindness of your heart.'

'Oh, I'm very softhearted, Til, but not that soft in the head. But it wasn't just Jann's idea, or at least wasn't his alone. It came down from Tallith Min, of Min & Co, who the Ministry employs to manage us, and who, I suppose is my boss. So you see, I found myself between the Black Star and a quantum storm. There was a way out, though, because they were a bit too clever. I'd not been sent a direct order to take Jann's cargo, no doubt fearing that radio-packet might've somehow ended up arriving garbled or too late...' I said 'So I told him it wasn't going to lift, I wasn't taking on his Neb-blasted boxes.'

'And he barked and you changed your mind.'

'Ah, Til, do you really think I'm that newly hatched?'

'Seeing that you arrived with forty-seven of Jann's boxes. I might be forgiven for thinking so.'

'Well, it's not the case. He growled and barked about following orders, being loyal and thinking about my future in the trade.'

'And you gave in.'

'No. You see, I knew how it would've been settled if Captain Miccall was alive and I wasn't about to settle for less. With no direct orders, I'd have gone on to Calissant without his boxes and damn the consequences. But what I really wanted was a chance to keep the Lost Star out of Calissant orbit.'

'Oh, my, Wil. I hadn't realized that a star badge could make a lorelion of a little grey ship-mouse.'

'Oh, that badge makes a difference, but in this case is wasn't a matter of turning a ship-mouse into a lorelion. I knew if I let Jann bully me into cutting my own throat and word got around, I'd be beneath contempt in the tramp trade. However angry Jann was, and he was very angry, he'd break me, just as readily for just accepting his boxes as he would for refusing them.'

'And yet somehow, you ended up with his boxes.'

'That we can blame on a three of stars. Seeing that I wasn't to be intimidated, Jann, the loyal Night Hawk Line skipper, reluctantly offered to cut cards to determine which ship would go on to Calissant. Which, as I said, he'd have done out of hand with Captain Miccall.'

'Hence the three of stars.'

'Exactly. We now had our chance to avoid the beach. So we gathered the crew on the awning deck and set up a com link to the Comet King so everyone could witness the cut to see everything was on the level. I cut my three of stars and Jann cut a twelve of comets.

'Jann gruffly ordered us to close with the Comet King and we worked non-stop for the better part of a day and a half transferring those blasted boxes ship to ship. And that, my dear Til, is how I came to have Jann's forty-seven boxes. The moral being, don't cut a three of stars.'

'I'd say you're lucky Jann gave in. Both he and Min would've had their plasma knives out for you if you'd just gone on in, tossing a spanner into their plan.'

'Maybe, well probably. Jann was still angry when we parted and how Tallith Min will take it is anyone's guess, though I'll know soon enough.'

'Ever find out how he ended up with forty-seven boxes for Pinelea and Calissant?'

I laughed. 'There never seemed a good time to ask. I didn't want to make an enemy of Jann.'

'You've a strange way of forging friendships,' she laughed. 'Well, I imagine you're eager to make a new one on Calissant, so I'd best not keep you a'yarning. Hope your orbits are clear.'

'Thanks Til. Until our orbits cross again, whenever that'll be, fair orbits.'

'Fair orbits, Captain Litang,' the last with a laugh.

And with that the steering rockets and the big wing rockets of Tilli's lighter flared, sending the lighter outwards in a shallow arc and plunging downwards for Pinelea and I was very much alone.

Well, the box dangling on the end of the cargo crane wasn't going to stow itself – though it would've eleven thousand years ago, before the sentient machines went on strike and eventual exile in the inner drifts, free to do what sentient machines do. Since then the Unity Charter not only limits machine intelligence to a level well short of self-awareness but requires active human participation in every operation. So, if I wanted to clear Pinelea, I'd best see to stowing that last box.

Using the control levers and with a neurological link to the crane's sensors via the com link I wore on my wrist, I swung the box into position and guided it into its slot in the hold – operating the crane on the macro level with the manual controls while the crane's sensors and the ship's computer did the micro level adjustments preventing me from making a hash of it.

Containers are stored on end, locked on a movable docking bar at the bottom of the hold, which provides a sensor link and power to the boxes. Each box has its own environmental unit to keep it within the content's specified limits. I locked the box down, braced the hold's containers, lowered the crane and folded the hatch covers over the holds.

I paused for a moment before lowering the cargo tower to admire my ship. We'd swung around to the day side by this time and the scarred hull glowed rusty, formerly ruby red, having been sanded thin and dull by centuries of plying the Nine Star Nebula. The low angle of the sunlight showed every dent, ding and patch starkly in its warm glare, the badges of the centuries knocking around the Nine Star Nebula's gas, dust, and debris filled space.

The Lost Star is a small enclosed-hold cargo liner designed primarily for service on low volume interplanetary runs but with its enclosed holds and heavily reinforced bow and stern, can sail anywhere within the Nine Star Nebula. She's not an elegant ship – a stubby dagger, 220 meters long with 56 x32 meters lens-like cross section – carrying 144 standard shipping containers in three hard vacuum holds. Since the ship is designed for orbit to orbit service, cargo is brought up by lighters and stowed by the ship's two cargo cranes. The hydrogen fuel tanks are packed ahead and alongside the main cargo hold.

Below the three main holds is a four box atmospheric hold, which, in all my years aboard has only been used as the ship's attic and a playing field. Below that are the five crew decks housing the ship's accommodations, control, and engineering facilities. Since she was originally fitted with 12 passenger suites plus quarters for a crew of 20, she's a roomy ship as a tramp with my present crew of 11 (slightly understaffed).

Below the crew section is the engine room – a mechanical jungle of catwalks, struts, fusion piles, generators, environmental machinery, and fuel pumps serving one large main plasma rocket engine and eight smaller ones. The engines, like the hull, are constructed of D-matter, designed materials, artificially designed matter capable of withstanding thermal and electromagnetic energy far beyond the ability of naturally occurring matter.

Two sheltered boat decks on each side of the crew and engine room hull house a 17-meter-long boat and a 14-meter gig with room for several more. The ship's two gangplanks are located at the after end of the boat decks and beyond them are the launch tubes, our anti-meteor/defense missiles.

Sensor bars can be extended from both the upper and lower hulls housing radar, laser radar, radio, cameras and other sensors and aft of them are the ship's heat exchangers to remove heat generated within a ship sheathed in a perfectly insulated hull. Finally, the rocket tubes right aft.

Enough. It's past time for this narrative and this ship to get underway.

I lowered the cargo tower into the hull and stepped out onto a small platform in No. 4 hold. The deck was 12 meters on my left, with a bulkhead at my feet. Being in free fall I simply walked down the bulkhead with my magnetic boots and swung myself around when I reached the deck. I crossed the hold to the main access well set between two strong rooms. The access well is an open shaft to the engine room control platform five decks below surrounded by a semi-circle of stairs. It's the fastest way to move between decks in free fall. (It's even faster when under power, but the landing's unpleasant, hence the stairs.)

I stepped into space and with a thrust up on a handhold, dropped down one level to what we refer to as the 'awning deck' – the former social deck of the passenger section – which includes a small library and a media theater, the dining saloon and a small bistro stocked with self-serve boxed meals and beverages. Both the saloon and bistro open on a spacious commons area lined on two sides and the ceiling with grid of two-meter square holographic view-panels that give the illusion that the deck is open to the black marble sky of the nebula. Chairs, lounges, and low tables are arranged under a thin fabric awning and hanging lanterns. The fourth bulkhead has a rock garden under a bank of warm lights, home to lush green foliage and cheerful bachelor birds who flit among the foliage and occasionally fly about the deck. As I entered, half the crew was sitting or floating about at ease, talking, reading or playing cards about the twilit commons.

'Skipper,' said Riv D'Van, our chief engineer, looking up as I walked over to his group. 'Cargo on board?'

'Aye, let's clear this orbit.'

'Not going to replace Uzi?'

Uzilane, our second pilot had decided to remain on Pinelea, his home world. It's easier to find employment on a world you know well, so I couldn't blame him. Better the beach you know...

'I don't think we need another pilot for the run home. Do you?'

'I'm not the one who'll be standing double watches. But I can't say we'd make very pleasant company for someone new...'

'That's what I'm thinking. Let's clear.'

Without Uzi, only Illynta Tin and myself were fully qualified pilots. However, our apprentice pilot, Molaye Merlun had been aboard for two years and was fully qualified to go before the Guild board and get her pilot's ticket when we reached Calissant, so we weren't in bad shape. She didn't need me looking over her shoulder. I'd have to pilot a watch and stand another with Molaye when under power, but that'd be only four or five double watches over the course of the run. I could do my desk work as easily on the bridge while attending Molaye's turn at the helm as in the office.

'In a rush to get home, are we?' said Riv, studying at his cards.

'Aye. I want things settled.'

Riv tossed the magnetic cards to the table and rose. 'In that case, Skipper, let's get this packet on its way.'

'Hey Riv, we can play this hand out,' protested Eljor Pantin.

'Haven't time. I've got to get my reactors wound up. Captain's orders,' replied Riv, heading for the well with me.

We heard Eljor utter a quiet curse as he turned over Riv's discarded cards.

'You have to know just when to break orbit,' Riv laughed quietly besides me.

I left Riv at the bridge deck while he continued down to his engine room, to began the process of getting the ship underway for Calissant and its uncertain fate.

### Chapter 04 Passage to Calissant

Sleep was not on the charts. I undid the flap of my hammock, snagged my magnetic soled slippers off the bulkhead and curled up to slip them on, setting the hammock swinging wildly. Reaching over my head, I grabbed the edge of the shelf and swung myself out, my slippers latching on to the deck. As captain of this packet, I suppose trousers were optional, but I slipped a pair on anyway, and pulled over a sweater as well since the Lost Star is a rather cool climate ship.

Ship climates tend to reflect the climates of their home worlds and the Lost Star's seemed to echo the long winters of its home port of Primecentra, though it likely goes further back in its history than that. There are hot ships too. I know an ex-spaceer beachcomber by the name of Sunny Day who claims that, in a moment of desperation, he signed on as a pilot aboard the Starbound, a Hareau (Amdia system) based interstellar freight liner. Hareau is a world on the inward side of the human inhabitable range and the ship maintained a 40C environment. Sunny claims that after spending four days as a sopping wet human sponge, he adopted a new uniform consisting of slippers and a large towel which he carried to dry off occasionally. He admitted this new uniform met with some initial resistance, but having embarked on a 135-day interstellar voyage, the rest of the crew had little choice but to grin and bare it. He sailed aboard the Starbound for seventeen years, his tenure ending only when the firm's chief operations officer came on board for a voyage back to the Amdia system and decided that 135 Sunny Days was going to be too many and sent him packing downside. Sunny claims that by that time, every other ship was now too cold and too confining, so he retired to the beaches of Belbania. I've never seen Sunny in anything but sandals, but whether this buttresses his yarn or the yarn serves to justify his sartorial preferences I've yet to decide.

Anyway, shuffling over to the built-in table/desk, I scooped a tube-spoon full of cha leaves from the canister and carefully pushed them into the clearsteel mug. Screwing on its cover, I connected the drinking tube to the water faucet and punched up a half a liter of boiling water which pushed down the mug's piston bottom that keeps the beverage accessible. As the cha leaves slowly unfolded in a lazy reddish swirl I debated what to do next. Too restless to stay in my cabin, I slid open the door-panel and slipped out into the dimly lit passageway.

It was the last four-hour watch of the ship's day – 20 to 24 o'clock. 24 o'clock corresponds to mid-summer's first light on Calissant and the start of its day. Since Calissant's capital city of Primecentra, is our home port, we keep Primecentra time aboard ship so this was our final night watch – the subdued lighting in the passage is a conceit, but useful in marking the passage of days without natural sunrises and sunsets. Azminn is always off to starboard when in passage since we circle the system anti-rotation wise, so we mark night by dimming our passage lights and limiting the view-panels to the port side view of the nebula laced sky. Since we were not under power, only the subtle hum of the fans and pumps of the environmental units kept the big silence of space at bay. Over this faint hum, a static laced voice drifted down the passageway.

I'd kept my first mate's cabin on the crew deck, one deck above the bridge deck. No point changing it for a voyage. Having been fitted to carry passengers, the Lost Star has 28 cabins between the two accommodations decks, passenger deck and the crew deck, more than enough to accommodate our current crew of 11 even with using empty cabins as lockers for our Guild trade goods. Half a dozen meters away, the light from one of the surplus cabins, a radio lounge, spilled out into the crew deck's small commons lounge. I walked over and looked in.

In the tiny, isolated, world of an interplanetary ship, sharing yarns and gossip with other spaceers on ships in radio range is a constant off duty past time. Our chief engineers, Riv D'Van and his partner Lilm Ar'Dim, Dyn zerDey, our environmental engineer, plus our young love birds, pilot apprentice Molaye Merlun and apprentice systems tech Kie Kinti, were gathered around a holographic view of a cabin much like ours showing spaceers bemoaning the emergency pay scale that the Guild had recently agreed to. The bulkhead view-panel displayed a chart of the ships in range and a second one with thumbnails of the spaceers on each ship involved in the radio mesh. Pinelea and Calissant are two of the seven prime worlds of the Azminn system and in normal times, more than a dozen ships might be in conversational radio range. The chart showed only five ships, three small planet traders meandering along, a passing Pinelea Prime Line packet bound, like us, for Calissant and a Kylsant & Co. tramp decelerating for Coristant. The company looked up and nodded as I stood in the doorway. Riv indicated an empty space with a sweep of his hand, but I shook my head No. Too restless. I heaved myself off the door frame and moved on.

I crossed the lounge to the access well and hesitated. Up or down? Company, or not? I decided not, and stepping off, grabbed a pole with my free hand and pulled down to send me upwards. I drifted pass the passenger deck and swung off at the awning deck, dark, quiet, and seemingly deserted. The jungle garden was dark, the bachelor birds asleep in their rocky nests. Only after I'd walked into the nebula lit space did I see Illynta Tin in one of the lounges, her face faintly illuminated by the book on her lap.

'Sorry, Illy, I didn't see you there. I'll find somewhere else to brood...'

'Oh, you can brood here all you want. I don't mind,' she replied glancing up.

I settled in a chair near hers and warmed my hands on the mug. 'I've been thinking of Captain Miccall, why I ended up captain, and how I haven't a clue as to what to do next.'

'You're thinking too much. Fen and Hawker appointed you captain to take the Lost Star around the sun. Neb knows what lies ahead of us. Just have to wait and see. I doubt we'll have any say in the matter.'

'And they're both dead, now,' I sighed. 'Why me? As first mate for almost half a century, you're far more qualified. Plus, there's the old gang, all of whom I suspect have master's tickets tucked away as well.'

'As I've told you before, as first mate, you were first in line for the berth. Plus, appointing you wouldn't upset the balance.'

'Not sure I chart that.'

'We're all getting old and we get along quite comfortably. None of us cared to risk our comfortable berth by changing things. You knew the job, but were new enough not to try to make changes. Fen felt you'd see us around without upsetting the rhythm of our little society.'

I considered that. The Lost Star has a pretty elderly crew. Half of them have been spaceers for well over a century, and they set the tone for the ship. You either fit in, like me, or you moved on. 'So you're saying my lack of ambition got me the post.'

She chuckled. 'Aye, that, and five years as first mate. Fen knew we could live with you and handle you if your appointment went to your head.'

True enough. The gang did their jobs just as if Miccall was aboard and I just let them go about doing them. Nor was I afraid to ask for their advice when I needed it. I was filling a legal requirement, not replacing Fen Miccall. I didn't try.

Miccall was one of those larger than life characters you cross orbits with occasionally. That was clear, even though I only knew him in the quiet autumn of his life, taking his ship around Azminn twice each year. The peace and pace of his last half century had not always been the case. He could, when in the mood, spin countless yarns of his early years aboard the Lost Star, the type of tales that warrant my old spaceer claims prefix. Pirates, assassins, smugglers, outlawed robots, moon kings and asteroid miners all played their parts in his wild tales. And, I might add, all without showing up in the official log – I've looked as captain. And while many of these stories, I hope, lay well beyond the event horizon of reality, there seemed a vein of truth buried within them. The vague, artificial ordinariness of the official ship's log actually confers a sense of authenticity to them.

'I'm not a lifer. I had it all worked out – another fifty times around the sun as first mate, several years as captain of some little in-system ship, and with a pile of credits and the title Captain Litang to carry with me as I settled into a second career, was the extent of my ambition. It still is, I think. It's just that now, I've a whole lot more responsibilities then I'd have chosen... Though I suppose with the prospect of being paid off looming, I needn't be too concerned.'

'Nothing wrong with that attitude. I've avoided being appointed captain for a century.'

'Why?' I asked. I always wondered why she didn't have a ship of her own, but never dared to ask. You'd not find a more competent, level headed, spaceer in all of the Nebula. She'd been my mentor, looking out for me and bringing me along in my profession these last fifteen years. Five years ago she decided to semi-retire and just pilot, so she talked Miccall into appointing me first mate in her place. I owed her a great debt.

'Not worth the headaches. The Lost Star pretty much runs itself, so you can't judge what a ship's captain's life is like solely on your experience. I've served on ships that drove the captain to drink and half around to the far side of the Ninth Star. Never felt the need to take that chance. I'm like you, in that way, I guess. Besides, it's hard to go backwards once you're a captain.'

'Hopefully acting captains can go back.'

'Still want to?' She hit the mark with that question.

'I don't know, anymore. I thought I was about to be superseded on Belbania, and was surprised how it stung. All I'd done to that point was to moan and groan about how I couldn't wait to return to my old berth. If Vinden was still alive, I'd know where I stood. But now, with the Ministry, who knows? Does it even matter?'

'Neb knows. Vinden would've kept his ships running one way or another but with the Ministry or even Vinden's heirs.... Well, in six days we'll have a better idea... '

We sat in silence for a while with our own thoughts. I snagged my drifting mug and took a sip of cha.

'It is strange to think that in the span of two years, all four of the Four Shipmates have died,' I said sometime later.

The Four Shipmates as they called themselves were Captain Miccall, Owner Hawker Vinden, our late co-owners, plus Vinden's niece, Purser Onala Min, and her eventual husband, Pilot Martindale Min, who owned Min & Co. our shipbrokers, agents and bookkeepers. The Mins had died in a space boat crash on Calissant two years ago.

As a junior member of the crew I was rarely present when the Four Shipmates gathered aboard ship to yarn and carouse, so most of their yarns came to me via Captain Miccall's reminisces or second hand from the older members of the crew who knew them far longer. Still, when you saw them together you'd know they shared a past. A past, as I've said, that gets very sketchy, painted in yarns of outlandish danger and adventure, for decades prior to their arrival in the Azminn system. Illy, Riv and Lilm, Dyn and our chefs, Barlan and Saysa Dray all came to the Azminn aboard the Lost Star, but the desperate adventures of the Four Shipmates – if they exist at all – lay deeper in the past.

'All their outlandish yarns – all the dangers they faced – if one's to believe half of 'em, anyway. And now, just that quickly, they're all dead.'

'All our stories end in death, Wil. It's a port of call for all of us,' said Illy, softly, out of the darkness. 'They're gone, but their stories live on. We know them by heart.'

'Aye, and the old Lost Star as well – the one thing that tied them all together. If the ship could talk, or if its log isn't as fictional as I believe it is, we'd know a lot more about them.'

'They knew the secret of keeping secrets – never telling them. I doubt we'll ever know the true story of the Four Shipmates. Still, we've a hundred yarns we can spin when we run out of our own. And, for the next six days, the ship that served them so well for so long.'

Six days to Calissant. Nothing left to do but be patient and see where that three of stars I drew takes us. It was out of my hands now.

I let the silence run on until my mug of cha was empty.

'Thanks for the company, Illy. I think I'll be pushing on...' I said, rising.

'Any time, Wil,' she said quietly.

Approaching the edge of the well I happened to look down and catch the swift movement of a small white shape slipping out of sight against the shadow laced shaft at my feet – Ginger, one of the ship's cats.

'I see you Ginger. And don't you dare,' I warned her as I stepped off into space pushing up to start my drop. She was sitting on the ceiling of the deck below, waiting in ambush. She lives for the hunt.

Unlike the dogs, cats don't require magnetic pads to get around in free fall – their claws provide enough of a grip. They go about in free fall making no distinction between deck, bulkheads or ceilings, often leaping bulkhead to bulkhead down a passageway, making dodging cats a not infrequent event aboard the ship.

Officially we have seven cats, and I'll admit to having seen only six together at any one time, but unless they've learned to teleport and change the color of their spots, I have to believe there's more than seven cats.

Miccall was fond of cats, so the ship was and remains liberty hall for them. Ginger is one of our three general purpose cats who will come to anyone, when in the mood, but there's also engine room cats, a tribe of nearly feral cats living in our no. 4 hold, and I suspect, Dyn has several in his inter-hull realm as well. I pretend to believe there are only seven and turn a blind eye to their suspicious variety, but do I really have a choice? The cats are even less in awe of me than everyone and if there are as many of them aboard as I suspect, I'd be wise not cross them.

Ginger is a large, Neavery Snowshadow cat who, as I mentioned, lives for the hunt. Unfortunately, (for her, not for us) there's little to hunt aboard the ship. Like all the cats aboard, she's long since resigned herself to the fact that bachelor birds are too alert, smart, and agile to be worth the trouble of hunting, especially since they possess sharp pointy beaks with a cheerful willingness to use them. She has the scars to testify to this. Still, she or one of the other cats will sit for hours near the jungle garden watching the birds fly about, just to unnerve them, I suppose. Never works. Sooner or later – as the cat begins to doze, one of the bachelor birds will make a sudden lightning feint towards it just to see it jump. Jungle life aboard the Lost Star.

With bachelor birds so iffy, Ginger hunts the crew instead. A thumping landing on a victim's shoulders, a stifled scream, a curse and she naps, purring. But she has her pride, and having called her out, she was casually licking a paw as I drifted down. I meowed a greeting. She ignored me.

And I suppose, as long as I'm cataloging the ship's fauna, I should include the bachelor birds as well. That's not their actual name. What it is however, and which of the 200 odd planets of the Nebula they originated on is a mystery unlikely to be solved, since they've now been aboard longer than any of the present crew. They're called bachelor birds because they all look exactly the same, old and young, male and female. They could be phoenixes for all we know as they keep their private lives well hidden in the dense foliage and nooks of the rough rocky wall defended with the sharp point of their beaks. They're a bright green with darker green trim around their necks and wings, some 8 cm long. Still, they're cheerful, cocky birds, who'll sit on your shoulder and chat quite musically, when, like the cats, they're in the mood.

As I've mentioned, a ship is a tiny world, and all these touches of life, dogs, cats, birds, plants and gardens serve to keep the cold endless void beyond the hull plates at bay.

Leaving a disappointed Ginger behind, I dropped down past the crew deck to the bridge to keep the watch, Myes Qilan and Lili Chartre company. I stayed for an hour into the next watch with Molaye and Kie before those love birds drove me crazy and I was weary enough to sleep.

### Chapter 05 Voyage's End

I watched Molaye running through the routine of slipping into our assigned orbital slot with clenched hands casually hidden in my trouser pockets. She was doing it by the book. This time. Usually she brought the ship in packet style, matching altitude and velocity in a single motion, a liberty frowned on by the old captains she'd be facing in a few days. This time she was deftly aligning the Lost Star to our assigned anchorage buoy from the fairway, a hundred kilometers above the buoy. With position and speed matched, she'd use our steering rockets to drop us to within ten kilometers of the buoy.

'Relax Skipper,' said Riv, who, like me, was holding up the port side bulkhead of the bridge. 'You're making me jumpy. Young Molaye's perfectly capable of slotting us in without running down the buoy.'

'Of course. Natural talent, and two years my apprentice. Still, if the Dark Neb has it in for me, time's running short...'

'If the Dark Neb has it in for you, there's far worse things than running down a blasted buoy. There's hundreds of ships and boats in orbit to run down.'

'Thanks for pointing that out, Chief. That does seem to make hitting a buoy much easier to contemplate. I've been thinking of becoming a cha planter anyway.'

Riv grinned and in a louder voice called out, 'Be careful Molaye, don't run the buoy down, or the Skipper will have to take up farming.'

Riv's partner, Lilm, at the engine room console, turned and gave him a sharp look. 'You be quiet, Riv.'

Molaye at the helm, merely turned with a smile, 'I'll have her within two hundred meters, Chief. Hold his hand.'

I sighed and muttered quietly to Riv, 'You know, you're going to have to serve under a real captain again someday.'

'All the more reason to have my fun now...'

Like the awning deck, the ship's bridge is a conceit, designed to suggest that it is located above and overlooking the hull rather than deep within the ship. Eleven large view-panels wrap around the curving forward bulkhead of the bridge. The panels are linked to cameras in the sensor bar and, except for the center panel displaying the pilot's data, they show a panoramic view of the Nine Star Nebula, the sun, Azminn and the curve of Calissant below, as seen from the upper hull looking aft since we were still traveling stern first, having just completed our deceleration to match Calissant's velocity. The warmth of the bright sunlight pouring in was another artful illusion generated by the panels.

Seated at the central control console facing the wall of panels were the three persons on watch, Lilm monitoring the engine room and rockets, Molaye at the helm and Dyn, the look out who monitored the ship's radar and communications. More specialized versions of these and other stations filled the bulkhead behind them in a blaze of status lights and screens. The rest of the crew seemed to have drifted into the bridge as well, settling in at the various monitoring stations and corners. I don't suppose many captains would've allowed this, but I guess we felt a need to be together at the end of what might well be our last voyage as shipmates.

Molaye rang the maneuvering warning bell, unnecessary with everyone present, but required.

I felt a faint, confused tug of inertia as Molaye began firing a series of steering rockets to flip and rotate the ship. The patches of sun light flowed around the bridge as the ship's stern dropped and began to slowly rotate. There's no reason why a ship needs its bow facing the direction of orbit, nor why the holds have to open 'up' in relation to the planet, except it's the way it's done. And while it would have been simpler to just spin the ship laterally to accomplish this, that too, is not the way it's done. A ship is flipped 180 degrees while making an 180-degree axial rotation before it comes to rest in orbit. Pilots like flying rockets...

Since I was officially monitoring Molaye, my com link connected me to the ship's array of internal and external sensors. As with the crane, I experienced the ship's movement as a ghostly sensation of actually being the ship. I'm unable to use this link to control the ship (another technological victim of the robot revolt) but it serves as an intuitive aid and an early warning system necessary for something as complex as an interplanetary ship.

I tried not to ignore the rapid approach of our anchoring buoy seen by the ship's radar. Closing my eyes didn't help, of course, but I did it anyway. If the Dark Neb had it in for me, nothing I could do was going to make any difference.

'Captain?'

I opened my eyes to see Molaye watching me. She smiled brightly and held up her hands. 'Oh,' I said and pushed myself off the bulkhead.

'Hundred and eighty-six meters,' she said glancing around me as I reached the console to grin at Riv.

I checked the readings on the screens over Molaye's shoulder, speed relative to buoy, a neat 0.000, 186 meters off our bow. We were home. 'Excellent, Molaye. As always. You'll have no trouble with the board. I only wish I could promise you a berth. I'll do all I can, of course.'

'Thanks Captain. We're hoping to stay on board,' she replied. The we included Kie who'd also be going before his Tech Board.

'I want you both,' I assured her.

Lilm looked up at me. 'Ah, Wil...'

'Huh?'

'Do you still need me?'

'Oh. Right. Done with engines, Lilm. Stand down, harbor watch.'

'Well Skipper?' Riv called from across the bridge.

'Well what?

'What did the Kardea of Min & Co say?'

I'd reported our arrival to our managing firm during our approach to orbit and talked a bit to Phylea Kardea, the firm's office manager.

'In a moment. Before the quarantine and trade control boats arrive, I'd like to make a fool of myself one last time by thanking all of you for all the big and little ways you've made my job easier, Not that I expected anything less. I know it's been hard for you, and me, to sail without Captain Miccall. Thanks for not holding me to his standard, I know some of you have left things unsaid. Some more than others...'

'No problem,' Riv acknowledged with a shallow bow. 'I can't say it wasn't a trial, but we've gotten through. Just don't expect such a smooth ride from here on out. We've our limits.'

'Thanks, Chief.'

'I know I speak for everyone when I say that even if you weren't the only option, I'm sure we'd still have at least considered you for acting captain...' he added.

'I was the only option because none of you stepped forward. If you had, I'd have dodged the berth as deftly as a jump boat. Well, we're home again. You can admit it now. How many of you have a master's ticket?' I asked, looking around.

'A master's ticket? I'm just an old, broken down chief engineer. Why would I have a master's ticket?' he said with a less than innocent smile, shared by my prime suspects. I shook my head. I'd get Illy to tell me, someday...

'Now, what did Kardea say?' he added.

'Very little we didn't know. The ministry official handling Vinden's estate is on holiday this week so Tallith Min won't be able to see him before next Secondday, leaving our fate hanging a week or more.'

'What's to prevent us from sailing hollow to Sanre-tay before the official even knows we've here and gone?' asked Riv.

'The thought actually crossed my mind as well. I asked Kardea. She said there are standing orders for all Vinden's ships to be paid off after discharging their cargoes. So running would be piracy, or the next thing to it. I don't think we're ready to be pirates yet. We should probably give Min a chance to argue our case, first.'

'Blast, it could have worked...'

'If it wasn't for those standing orders, it'd been something to consider. According to Kardea there's little in the way of cargo and not likely to be any more in the near future so sailing hollow to the Sanre-tay quarter might have been justifiable. We've enough fuel on board for a slow run anywhere. But I do draw the line at piracy.'

'Anyway, that brings us back around to paying off the crew after clearing the ship's cargo,' I continued. 'With the Ministry official unavailable to say otherwise, that'll have to be the case with us too. Kardea said we can treat it as unpaid shore leave, no need to clear our gear until our fate is settled. We can come and go as we like. I can keep a single ship watcher on board. Nothing to be done about it.

'We should be able to discharge our cargo in short order; I've already received notice that lighters are on their way up. We'll start our 'Survival Banquet' fourth watch tomorrow and any survivors will be paid off the following day. I understand that with prospects of a ship out of Port Prime almost nil, most idle spaceers are drifting down to Barque-nela on the Amibon Sea coast, inexpensive, warm and with real beaches. You can take the long boat down under Illy, I'll keep the gig for Port Prime runs. Any questions?'

'What's your status? Did Kardea have anything say about that?' asked Illy.

I shook my head. 'She didn't mention anything. I didn't ask. Until the fate of the Lost Star is determined, appointing a permanent captain is not likely a high priority. I'm likely to meet Min tomorrow, so I may know more after that conversation...'

'Captain, the quarantine boat is coming along side,' Dyn said in his quiet voice beside me.

'Alright mates, down to the landing stage to get examined, and get your manifests in order for the inspectors. With traffic so reduced, we're going to get first class treatment this time around.'

Port procedures vary little planet to planet. The Quarantine boat docks first with an assortment of droids to conduct medical exams, sample the ship's environment and clears all trade goods slated for the planet. Procedures are rigorous and inflexible, even though pandemics are rare.

Once medically cleared, Unity Trade Inspectors arrive with their droids to verify each cargo container is the same, un-tampered, container sent up from the world of its origin. They also inspect and record the crew's Guild goods, usually small, rare or luxury items privately purchased on the planets by spaceers to be either re-sold directly to customers or bartered spaceer to spaceer via the Guild's exchange posts.

Once the med and trade inspectors had come and gone, we began to off-load the containers to the waiting lighters. Normally in Calissant orbit, we'd wait the better part of a day for the first lighter to arrive, but this time around, with trade so slack, we were treated like an express packet and had four lighters waiting for their boxes by the time the inspectors' boat departed. We discharged our full cargo in a hectic rush of less than two watches.

Afterward, though tired, I found sleep evasive. The sense of relief I should've felt after seeing the Lost Star safely and profitably home – without running over any buoys – was curiously subdued. All rather anticlimactic, no end at all, really.

### Chapter 06 Star Gate Boulevard

It was early afternoon, Fourthday, in Primecentra as the anchorage shuttle followed the guide beam down to Port Prime's Smallcraft Field. Dyn, as principal heir of Miccall's estate, had business with both the Guild and the Ministry of Probate. Being very uncomfortable beyond the confines of the ship, he had asked Illy to accompany him on his bureaucratic ordeal. Since I'd my final accounts to complete, I sent them off with the ship's gig. I'd take a shuttle down and we'd rendezvous for the return trip.

I'd awoken in a more confident mood. Having seen the ship around Azminn as routinely (save the Belbania Affair) as Miccall, earned a respectable profit, and feeling that I could do it again, I decided that there was no cause to be anxious. Until I tackled my accounts, anyway. It took all of the second watch and part of the third before they were within what I considered the margin of error and I was ready to go downside and turn them in to Min & Co.

Somewhat weary, and now a little wary as well, I'd tucked the secure data drive in my coat pocket, and sought a comfortable refuge in a Neb may care attitude against the prospect of meeting my new boss with the Belbania Affair hanging over me, as I signaled for the shuttle. I'd credits in my account and even if the ship was laid up, I'd find something to do. It was never my intention to spend my whole life in space, I reminded myself, so I needn't fear meeting Tallith Min. Much.

The shuttle drove down through the clouds – the view-panels showed only white deepening to grey, leaving the towers of Primecentra and the sprawling fields of Port Prime to memory or imagination.

Port Prime, Calissant's major space port, spreads southwards from the clearsteel reefs of Calissant's capital city, Primecentra, encompassing a hundred square kilometers of specialized landing fields, hangars, warehouses, docks, and ship lots. The passenger center borders Primecentra, serving planetary fliers and near-space rockets, jump ships to orbiting interplanetary liners, space stations, and the small liners to Yendora, Calissant's major moon. To the east of this is the large Primecentra Yacht Club. Southwards things get commercial and industrial, with a jumbled mix of hangars, docks, repair yards, freight fields and cargo transfer facilities. The Smallcraft Field lies on the extreme southern edge. It serves as the landing and parking field for small boats like our ship's gig along with a bewildering array of lighters, miners, and other specialized small craft. It's the part of the Port Prime that interplanetary spaceers know best, and it was the shuttle's destination.

The shuttle's landing jets fired suddenly and we settled to the flame scarred tarmac without ever breaking through the clouds. We taxied between space boats, puddles and sooty snow piles, all vague in the fog to the drop point. It looked like winter, but if you know Port Prime, the puddles proclaimed that spring had arrived. (At last!) Coming to rest, we donned our coats and tumbled out into the cold, damp air smelling of hot metal, smoke, ozone and wet tarmac. As a pack we splashed and cursed through the slush and puddles to the access station. Weather can be very unpleasant. It was not noticeably warmer underground as we stepped on board the pseudo-moving surface of the velowalk and quickly strode our way to the large subterranean reception hall. The reception hall seemed darker, almost derelict, many shops closed or deserted, with only a thin scattering of spaceers scurrying quietly about under its arching dome. I steered for Gate 31. Had it been our early fall visit, I'd have walked the five kilometers to Min & Co along Star Gate Boulevard just to soak in its life. But seeing it was spring I limited my choices to the tube or a flier. As mere first mate, I'd have taken the tube, but as my last perk as captain, I rode up to the surface gate to hire a flier. Hunching down in my turned up coat collar, I strode out onto the gloomy dampness of Star Gate Boulevard and hurried towards the nearby flier stand.

Star Gate Boulevard circles Port Prime, its character varying with the local activity of the port and neighborhood. I'm only familiar with the wide canyon between the brooding hangars and workshops of the Smallcraft Port and the glittering, neon-lit escarpment of Port Prime's spaceers' row. This is the Star Gate Boulevard of dark bars and dim taverns, vile drug dens, dives and joints, loud spaceer clubs and crowded lounges, hundreds of quiet cha houses, cafes, bustling bistros, diners, eateries, specialty restaurants and snack stalls, cinemas and immersive vids, arcades, game rooms and gambling dens, vice clubs and pleasure palaces, cheap boarding houses, rundown hotels and rendezvous flats, interspersed with narrow, dark shops, crowded, dusty stores, and bright, vast emporiums, all offering the guaranteed lowest prices on the largest selection in the galaxy of everything you want, need, or can imagine, plus a million other things as well, used and new, second and twenty-seventh hand, all guaranteed and warranted authentic, and for those at the end of their tether, pawn shops, Guild hostels, sheltered corners and benches. And perhaps, a friend, or a shipmate. In short, everything the spaceer, the tourist, and the curious can spend a credit on. When the weather is nice, this teeming life bursts out of the neon escarpment to flood the Boulevard with tables and chairs under awnings and lights, racks and piles of merchandise, booths and carts, spaceers, companions, tourists and the curious milling, drinking, eating or fighting under the arch of trees and banners. But on this early spring afternoon, Star Gate was dirty, white, grey and desolate. The canyon walls of colorful signs faded to brighter greys within a block in either direction, posing no challenge to the brooding dark hangars along the port side of the boulevard. The only spot of color in the Boulevard was a line of brightly dressed companions perched on a bench half buried in a sooty bank of old snow and a small pack of uniformed and shivering flier pilots keeping them company.

One companion dressed only in a little blue dress rose as I hurried out of the port gate and skipping lightly through the slush and puddles, slipped her(its) arm around mine and said brightly, 'Hello, mate. Welcome home. I'm Lyrath.'

'Hello Lyrath,' I said, though I continued walking towards the flier stand. 'You should put more clothes on young lady. Just looking at you in that skimpy dress is making me even colder than I am already.'

She laughed, being a professional. 'We can't have that love,' she replied, and I felt a sudden glow of warmth as the avatar's operator raised the heat level of avatar's 'body'. Within a few steps I was walking arm and arm with a warm stove. 'Better?'

'Much. But I'm on ship's business, my dear, and regrettably I haven't time to sample more of your heat.'

'Oh, I'm sure we'll find time. My rendezvous is just a few steps up the way, and love, with times being the way they are, the Guild allows me to offer very special rates for handsome ship's officers like you – matinee rates all day for the entire day. So why not let me warm you up thoroughly before your ship's business and afterward make an evening of it? I don't see any company badges,' she added glancing at my cap, 'so I can't imagine you'll be going anywhere soon.'

The robotic avatar clinging to my arm was a woman shaped animated machine referred to as a companion. They come in both sexes. I was conversing, however, with a real woman somewhere in Primecentra, or, more likely, one of the less expensive satellite cities that huddled close to Port Prime. She controlled the avatar's mannerisms and speech as well as its personality, and she's the she I'll refer to. Companions, avatar and operator, work as prostitutes or animated sex toys. Your call. Under the Unity Charter's post robot rebellion laws, all avatars must be clearly mechanical, though body styles vary from planet to planet. They're legal on most planets and all moons, though sometimes in only limited areas like around space ports and red light districts. Safe, sanitary and strictly regulated by government and their guild, they're the companion of choice amongst spaceers. If you wanted a human prostitute around Prime Port, you'd have to leave Star Gate and venture beyond the office buildings into the tenements beyond. Not recommended. Besides being safer for customer and operator, avatar companions are also very versatile – a'la the little furnace beside me. You also avoid the pitfalls associated with social taboos, tastes and smells which vary planet to planet. And you don't need to buy 'em drinks. The avatar is pre-programed for sex – active participation or virtual presences of the operator is not required making it easier for the operator to become a companion and making the operators much less socially stigmatized by their job. In my experience, I've found the operators to be pleasant, intelligent and a treasure trove of information and gossip. All I have to do is share any trade news I have to learn a great deal more of what's going on in the trade before it appears in the regular trade reports. Sex and shop talk may not sound very romantic, but companions, however pleasantly they may pass an hour, are not about romance.

We'd reached the flier stand and I came to a stop. She stepped around in front of me, pulled me close to her slim hot avatar body by wrapping her arms around my neck. I must admit that I took my hands out of my pockets, but only to warm them on this very female shaped furnace.

'You may well be right about not having places to go, my dear. But today I have to turn over my accounts, meet my new boss, and head back to the ship to pay off my crew... So I'm really sorry, my dear, no time today...'

She snuggled closer and began to purr and softly vibrate. 'Are you sure...? And quizzically glancing at my cap with its first mate's pin still on it, added, 'Captain?'

'Quit that, Lyrath. I told you I'm meeting my bosses in a few minutes...' I said ignoring the implied question, though failing to find the strength to push her away. 'I really need to be right straight and proper...'

'But that's what I'm doing...'

'What? Oh. Belay that, Lyrath! Do you want to land me on the beach before my time?'

She smiled and looked up at me with her large dark eye lenses and said, 'If you insist, my love....' And stepping back she added, 'Seriously Captain, in better days, I'd have taken your no and wished you fair orbit. But you're likely my only chance today. I go to the back of the line,' she indicated the bench with a nod of her head. 'Certainly not all of your time is spoken for. I'm willing to wait until you're free. I've nothing else to do except the laundry. Sorry, that's out of character.'

'I understand.'

'Times are no better along the Boulevard than they are in space,' she continued. 'I'll have to decide whether to stick it out, or call it quits. If too many of us stay, we'll all starve... And if not, what am I to do? I suppose I could go down to the Amibon coast. I know enough spaceers, so maybe I could find a partner. But in six months or a year he'll be off again, and where would I be?'

'I'm hearing it may be four to five years just to turn the slump around and ten to recover...'

'Bloody Neb, you're kidding me mate. Guild unemployment credits won't last that long and I'll end up supporting a beach combing chump.'

'Hardly fair. We can be tamed. When domesticated, tramp spaceers can be quite handy around the house; they can cook, clean, repair appliances. Besides there's always work for rocket pilots, systems techs, and even engineers. And I'm sure you could manage a poor spaceer, my dear. Though you could probably make a better career move than finding an out of work spaceer to partner with.'

'Perhaps, but I know spaceers...'

'Suppose you do. Well, don't go by what I say. Haven't a clue, myself. My firm has a young second class scholar in economics who's making these predictions, but I'm not sure it's anything better than a guess at this point.'

She considered that in silence for a moment and looked up with a smile on her mechanical face. 'Well, thanks mate, you've given me something to think about. Can I give you my badge id? When you're free, as you'll likely be, look me up.'

'Sure,' I said and pulled up my sleeve where I was wearing the com link so that she could use her finger to transfer that data. 'And let me have your purse, Lyrath. I owe you for the heat...'

'Thanks Captain. Not necessary. It's on the house. I'm not in the furnace business. Yet,' she added.

'I insist. A little offering to the Neb for surviving my first voyage as Captain.'

'Well for luck, Captain. Thank you. You're sweet,' she said, presenting her little purse.

I punched in a credit amount on the keypad and authenticated it with the chip in my finger insert. 'Have a meal delivered while you do your laundry.'

'You're over generous, Captain. I can't accept that for... a little heat.'

'Well if you find me derelict on some bench along Star Gate a few months from now, I'll expect you to take me home and nurse me back to health and happiness.'

'Right. I hope to see you before then.'

'Maybe. Till then, fair orbits, Lyrath,' I said with a smile.

I nodded to the flier pilot who had been hanging in the middle distance waiting, and boarded the flier he indicated was his. I gave him Min & Co.'s address and we lifted off into the fog. Like companion avatars, fliers can be flown remotely, but on Calissant, as on many worlds, passengers prefer to ride fliers with pilots on board. The theory being that they'll fly a bit less carefree if they have to pay the consequences along with passengers. I doubt it. Most flier pilots are ex-spaceers who are flying taxis because they were never overly concerned about consequences. However, this was just a short hop up and over a few kilometers and what the fog hid didn't overly concern me. We touched down on a rooftop landing stage less than a minute later. I punched in the credits and slipped out into the dense dampness forty stories up just as another flier landed. I crossed the landing stage to the rooftop lobby and summoned the lift. I stepped aboard as the door opened and stood in the door to hold it for the other flier's passengers.

Through the clearsteel lobby wall, I watched a strange, slim, bird like figure absently make her way into the lobby from the gloom. At first glance I thought she was an avatar, her legs seemed too long, too slim and she was barefooted as well. But as she approached I realized she was not an avatar, though her legs were indeed, intricately mechanical. Her head was bowed, her hands in her coat pockets, she walked, lost in thought.

I felt a dart of pity. Though perhaps sympathy is the more appropriate word.

Only after stepping into the lobby did she look up, quietly startled to find me watching her from the waiting lift.

I find it impossible to connect the right combination of words to describe what I caught in her eyes for a single second. There was sadness, perhaps loneliness, or a quality of being lost, a remoteness, or perhaps it was quietness, and, I felt, an unspoken appeal... She blinked and her eyes were well guarded, showing nothing.

I felt embarrassed, an intruder in a private moment, and she may well have felt it too. And resented it. She took a swift survey of me with now guarded eyes, nodded slightly, and said quietly, 'Thanks, mate.'

'My pleasure,' I replied and stepped into the lift, off to one side. She followed me in.

I punched in floor 27. She glanced at it and kept her hands in her coat pockets. The doors closed and the car dropped.

I could not read her age. It's hard to pin down even an approximate age between the first three decades of youth and well into the second half of one's second century. Only the accumulated experience seen in the eyes and carriage give a clue as to age. Her eyes lacked the look of age, but her face was rather worn and thin, her hair pulled tight and tucked under her cap. She was, however, a spaceer, a fellow pilot, judging from the pilot's wheel pin on her cap. I didn't see a company badge, but the expensive cut and quality of her uniform style coat suggested she was employed by one of the big passenger or freight liner companies. Since most of the offices in the building were devoted to interplanetary trade she was not out of place.

We spent the few seconds in the lift without further words, she looking straight ahead. The lift's abrupt slowing to a stop at floor 27 made me glad I'd strapped a pair of braces on my legs before coming down. Being a Homo Stellar creature, I should, in theory, not only survive a life of little or no gravity without any adverse effects, but with daily workouts and electro-sim muscle treatments I should be able to easily adjust to Calissant's .93 standard gravity. Easily, but not instantly. It still takes a week or so to get fully accustomed to a given gravity regime. So, in order to attend my various tasks downside without getting too tired or having to rest too often, I had attached a thin, powered exoskeleton directly to my legs to take a some of the workload off my leg muscles before setting out. It kept me from becoming a heap on the lift floor when it reached floor 27.

My spaceer companion had no such worries, I thought before it struck me who she had to be. But by then it was too late. The door had opened and she was already striding out.

I'd never met Tallith Min. I saw her parents occasionally when they visited Miccall aboard ship and so I didn't pay too much attention to their accident at the time. For spaceers, things like that always happen far away and a while ago – a remote event. It greatly affected Miccall however. He was never quite the same afterward.

On learning that Tallith Min was now in charge of Min & Co, I'd talked to the old gang who knew her and her parents far better. As a child, she had sailed aboard the Lost Star with her uncle, Captain Vinden. She, and the old gang, have gotten together at various times over the years since then, but they could offer no useful insights. I did know she was the fourth pilot of a Zenith Line freighter at the time of the accident, so she knew the trade from our point of view.

The accident that killed her parents was quite unusual – a space boat with a dead man at the controls smashed into the Mins' boat at the edge of space above Calissant's Trimeta Sea. Tallith was piloting the Min's boat and managed to nurse the damaged craft down to an island beach crash landing. It was found however, that her parents had been instantly killed and the landing left Tallith more dead than alive. She'd spent the better part of the last two years recovering on the planet of Kimsai, among the mystic Taoist adepts – widely known for their many healing skills – where her older brother, an adept, looked after her.

Too late to say anything, I hung back, drifting down the passageway at a leisurely pace. I was, however, right – she strode into the clearsteel walled office of Min & Co at the end of the passageway like she owned the place. Several gentlemen and a lady rose as she entered to greet her.

I waited until they disappeared into her office before thoughtfully pushing through the clearsteel office doors, fearing I'd seen too much in that unguarded second.

### Chapter 07 Tallith Min

Ensly Mirrior is a small, quiet, grey and dour woman. I sat watching her slowly plow through my accounts and wondered if she was born for this work or if the work made her so. Speaking from personal experience, dealing with ship captains is not for the faint of heart, so dealing with ship captains and their accounts must be pretty grim work.

I'd had a brief interview with the office manager, Phylea Kardea, who welcomed me home, congratulated me on my modest success, and said Tallith Min hoped that I'd stay to meet with her when I finished my accounts. I was then passed on to Ensly, who handles the Lost Star accounts and we set out to reconcile my verified accounts with their records.

Interplanetary trade relies on a web of interplanetary financial institutions and a system wherein each transaction is authenticated by both parties with a set of codes, one of which is radio transmitted and the other delivered on a physical drive. Credits move in a complex chain of inner-bank transfers only after being verified by both codes. My transactions were transmitted to Min & Co via radio-packets, but the second, physical drive versions of those transactions needed to match the transmitted codes to finalize the credit transfers. Every transaction had to be found in our two ledgers and reconciled to complete the transfers. In theory it should be a simple matter of merging the two accounts, but in practice, it's not. At least not for me. Miccall had handled the ship's financial side and his and Min & Co.'s financial conventions were unfamiliar to me. As a result, entries appeared under different headings in our two files. Tracking them down took a focused effort for more than two hours.

Halfway through Illynta signaled to say Dyn had wrapped up his affairs. I told them not to wait, I'd take a shuttle up when, or if, I was ever able to find my way clear of these Neb blasted accounts.

Fortunately, as grim as Ensly looked, she was patient (or resigned) and we worked our way through the accounts without harsh words. As the process was drawing to a close, I began thinking about my next meeting and asked her what she thought of our new boss. 'Nice enough. Doesn't say much. Has a lot to learn, but Phylea is confident,' was her assessment.

'Do they get along? I'd imagine Phylea has had to step back, after running Min & Co for several years.'

'Phylea's been running the firm for twenty years,' Ensly replied. 'The Mins brought in the clients and kept them well dined and happy. Phylea ran the actual operation. The accident was a tragedy, but it did not affect our operation much. The trade collapse is another story. We'll get by, thanks to the small ship traders whose business is now booming. They need bookkeepers and shipbrokers to keep everything straight. Still, we're moving down to the less expensive 5th floor in three weeks and half the staff will likely be looking for other employment before it runs its course.'

'Aye, I don't know what I'll be doing tomorrow.'

'Don't go in for accounting,' she replied blandly without looking up.

I laughed. 'Damn, that was my best hope.'

'In that case you're bound for a Guild sleeper,' she replied drolly and hurried on. 'Hard times even for the owner. Sold off her parent's estate, including the Primecentra flat and the country house. The people in her office are buying her yacht.'

'Why?' Calissant does not have private banks, loans are handled by the Ministry of Credit, which in fact, extends little credit, mostly short term loans so that almost no one is in debt on Calissant. Selling off didn't seem to make sense.

'No credits to squeeze out of the business and the Ministry of Death wants its cut now. More to the point, the estate must be divided three ways – there's a sister on an Outward Survey mission and a brother on Kimsai with shares coming. We'd not fetch anything in a sale at the moment so the easiest way to settle the estate was to sell what could be sold, divide the proceeds, and put the credits in a Ministry account.'

'Has to be hard for her...' at which point Kardea appeared in the door and asked if we were done.

Ensly nodded. 'I can finish up without the Captain.'

I stood, thanked Ensly for her patience, promised to do better if ever given the chance again.

She mimicked holding her breath and rolled her eyes, and said very seriously, 'Good luck, Captain.'

I laughed. Ensly had her hidden depths.

I tried not to take that Good luck as a warning and followed Kardea to Min's office. She knocked and waved me in, closing the door softly behind me.

The entire outside wall was deck to ceiling clearsteel, which, on a clear day would offer a panoramic view of Port Prime over the lower buildings lining Star Gate Boulevard. On this afternoon in early spring, however, it was a merely a sheet of soft, pale light etched with water droplets and rivulets. On my left, a wide clear desk faced the clearsteel wall, its softly glowing desktop the office's only other illumination. To my right, a setting of chairs and a sofa. Tallith Min, a slim, strange silhouette against the grey afternoon light, turned as I was shown in.

She was dressed in a white blouse with a loose black tie, a black collared vest with a short black skirt that showed a lot of her black, elegantly shaped mech-legs which made her taller than me. Her gaze was guarded, her manner proper, cool, collected.

'Greetings, Captain Litang,' she said extending her hand, paused, recognized me from the lift, and added, 'Again.'

'My pleasure,' I assured her, taking her cool hand with an apologetic smile. 'I'm afraid it didn't strike me who you were until it was too late.'

'Never occurred to me either, your cap has a first mate's badge.'

I shrugged. 'That's what I am. Merely acting as captain. Didn't see any need to change it.'

She considered that for a moment before saying, 'I see. Please have a seat,' and with a movement of her hand indicating the conversational area. 'I wouldn't want to keep a spaceer on his feet longer than necessary.'

'Thank you,' I said, though I waited until she was seated on the edge of a chair opposite mine, carefully arranging her long mech-legs off to one side, before I settled into mine.

Cloned replacement legs would likely take time to grow, and credits. She probably had the credits – her mech-legs looked elegantly expensive, so it may simply be that the cloned replacements were not yet ready. Still, very lifelike prosthesis are readily available, so the undisguised mechanical nature of her legs was a curious choice. Nothing in her manner seemed to invite pity. Perhaps they were an expression of indifference to their loss or penance for a perceived failure on her part in the tragedy. She was, after all, piloting the boat when it crashed.

I was on edge and chart-less. I needed to navigate this interview carefully. It should have been a clear orbit since we shared a common interest in keeping the Lost Star sailing, but the Belbania affair was unavoidably in the offing. I didn't know how she'd take that.

As I looked across to Min I realized another danger as well – that first second of our encounter – that glimpse of an unguarded and vulnerable Tallith Min would always color how I thought of her. I knew this to be dangerous, for looking at her now, it was clear that it wasn't something she wanted the world to know and if I treated her in that light, I could well be on the beach tomorrow. I needed to treat her as she was now – cool, competent and in command. I needed to be modest, deferential, and it wouldn't hurt to be a bit boring as well.

'Before we get down to the immediate business,' she began. 'I'd like to thank you for taking on Captain Jann's cargo. I appreciate how hard it was to help the Comet King avoid Calissant while you had to continue in. It may've seemed unfair to choose one ship over the other, but I'm pleased you saw the advantages of our plan.'

'It was hard,' I admitted, watching her closely. Neither her eyes nor voice revealed what she knew of it.

'It was hard for me as well,' she continued. 'However, Uncle Hawk held Captain Jann in high regard and given the current trade situation, I felt it best to keep a captain of Jann's experience operating for as long as there's a chance for cargoes and profit. I don't wish to undervalue your performance, Captain Litang, we're quite pleased with it, but, with Jann's four decades of solid profits behind him, I had to go with experience, even if it meant laying up the ship that has played such a big part in my family's history.'

'I can imagine it's not easy to risk the ship the Four Shipmates sailed aboard for so long, being laid up and the old gang scattered to the eight stars,' I said. 'She's a delightful ship, I've been lucky to serve aboard her, not to mention as her acting captain for a voyage.'

'Ah, the Four Shipmates.... I never tired of hearing Uncle Hawk talk about the old days. So many of his yarns involved the Lost Star. When I was ten he took me along on a voyage to Rigtania aboard the very ship. It was the greatest adventure of my childhood.'

'I joined the ship a year or so after that,' I said. 'But the gang still tells stories of your time on board. You were a bright ray of youth in the old tramp. And before I forget, they've given me strict orders to pass along their greetings and to say they're looking forward to seeing you soon, without fail.'

'I'm looking forward as well. And since I'm anchored here,' she indicated the office with a little movement of her hands on her lap, 'I won't have to run to make my ship like the last time. I'm looking forward to visiting the Lost Star again as well.'

'Any time. We'd be delighted.'

'My parents rarely talked of the old days,' she continued, 'But Uncle Hawk would, if I annoyed him enough. I loved those wild yarns of his youth spent tramping the eight systems. Adventure and mystery never seemed in short supply in those days. So you can imagine how wonderful it was to go to space on board the very ship that was center stage for his stories. Every deck, every dent and stain was out of one of his tales. Or he made it seem so...' she added, rather wistfully.

'Like that long dent in the lower hull where the Drift Dragon's tail sent the Lost Star spinning out of control when they tried to steal the silver asteroid that...' I started, recalling some of their more innocent, if unbelievable yarns.

'...Was actually the Drift Dragon's egg!' she finished, with a quiet smile. 'And that big, dark gloomy no. 4 hold with all those dings and dents from the last stand of the Droid Pirate who tried to take over the ship. And the battered floater and the ancient flier above the strong rooms that they used in their escape from the Revolutionaries of Linlan-zey...'

'...A drift planet somewhere deep in the Alantium Drift...' I laughed. 'They're still aboard.'

'And all those dusty old crates and boxes piled in the strong room?'

'I think everything is still there, and more gets added as time goes by. Much of Captain Miccall's gear ended up there as well.'

'I suppose that's how it should be... Added to all the other fabled treasures. I was convinced that one of those crates held Captain vey'Cline's Travel Book of Faylyen. The one that he claimed that he could, by simply opening its pages and looking closely at the picture on it, transport himself to the actual place.'

'Ah, yes, the world of Faylyen, the home planet of the First People whose sky is filled with the stars of the galactic center...'

'And where Captain vey'Cline may be today since he disappeared in the middle of a voyage, leaving the opened book on his desk... And there was Glen Colin, the engine room's spaceer ghost who'd appear out of nowhere...

'In a cloud of whiskey fumes.'

'So solid that he would yarn and even stand a watch when the mood suited him.'

'Which makes him sound more like a ship-hermit living somewhere between the hulls than a real ghost.'

'A ship-hermit? Well, maybe, but even that's nearly as unbelievable as a proper spaceer ghost,' she said.

'Not when you remember just how run down the old girl was in those days, sold, traded or gambled away from one shady owner to the next... A spaceer could easily make a nest amongst the fuel pipes and plumbing and never be found, even if anyone bothered to look...' I replied.

'So you say.'

'So I choose to believe. Ghost stories and drift dragons are entertaining yarns, but I must admit I hope most of them are more imagination than fact. I've not their taste for adventure...'

'No taste at all, Captain?'

'A quiet life of circling Azminn twice a year is about my limit, I'm afraid.'

'You'd never want to cross orbits with the beautiful pirate Captain Astreya of the Careworn Lark?

'I hope to avoid all pirates, be they as beautiful as a moon in a mist or ugly as a wort worm... Though I'll admit I briefly toyed with the idea of turning pirate myself just yesterday when I learned that we could slip out of orbit and be on our way to Sanre-tay before the Ministry of Death even knew we'd arrived.'

'Really?' She gave me a taunting look.

'Briefly. I believe the Four Shipmates did something like that once, but I'm not like them. I'm far too Unity Standard for piracy.'

'Oh well, I suppose we'd best get back to business at hand. I believe I was telling you how much I appreciated your willingness to take on Captain Jann's cargo.'

With all the talk of the Four Shipmate's exploits, now seemed the time to introduce the Belbania Affair – as modest of an affair as it was.

'Well, there's a yarn attached to that too. Nothing as exotic as a Four Shipmate's tale, but one that needs be told.'

'I'm not sure I follow you...'

'Well, when Captain Jann proposed unloading his cargo on me, I must admit I declined to even entertain the plan.'

'Why? Surely you saw its advantages.'

'Yes and no. What I saw was that with the arrival of the Comet King and the plan of sending only one ship on to Calissant, the chances of the Lost Star avoiding the uncertainty of Calissant fate suddenly jumped from none to 50-50 – but only if I refused to go along with it as proposed,' I replied and proceeded to spin my yarn.

Min hadn't spent the better part of two years living amongst the Taoist adepts of Kimsai without adopting something of their quiet ways. After her initial protest, she merely listened and watched – revealing nothing of her thoughts – allowing me to sail through the story as I'd rehearsed it countless times.

'Had Jann not actually cut a comet and I, a star, I'd have to invent that piece of business since it seems so apropos,' I said with a nervous smile and shrug, earnestly adding, 'So, even though everything ended up as you planned and nothing lost with my insistence that my ship be given its fair chance, I feel you need to know the full story. I'd not feel right letting you believe I'm something I'm not...'

'And you had to assume Jann would tell me all about it,' she added calmly, 'And risk being caught in a lie.'

'True. Still, I'm willing to wager Jann said nothing.'

'Well, he didn't. Why?'

'Likely because he couldn't tell you without it sounding like he was bragging about his loyalty. And because we settled things the way two tramp captains would've done it. Nothing more need be said. I, however, have no problem giving him his proper credit. He's a good and loyal captain.'

'And you, Litang?' she asked watching me closely. 'Are you a good and loyal captain?'

'Oh, I'm neither selflessly loyal nor naïve,' I said, carefully. 'I can't deny that I chose to take a very narrow view of my orders – or rather the lack of them – and was prepared to ignore them completely if Jann decided not to put the Comet King in play. I don't know how you view that, but I'm prepared to pay the consequences.'

'What do you think those consequences should be?'

'Not for me to say. You should, however, employ people you can rely on. My appointment as acting captain ended with the delivery of the verified accounts, so the Lost Star is now without a captain. You're free to appoint whom you'd like.'

'Why do you say your appointment has ended?'

'While Captain Vinden confirmed my acting appointment after the death of Captain Miccall, he specified that it was only to our return to Calissant and implied that he'd others in mind with stronger claims to the berth.'

'I wasn't aware of that understanding. I don't believe it's on record, though much of his business was conducted in his head.'

'I still have the radio-packet which I can send along to you.'

'Oh, I believe you. Are you that anxious to give up command?'

I shrugged. ' At first... Now, well, less so. Truth is, I've come to rather like being Captain if I'm to be completely honest.'

'And I'll be honest with you. At the moment, I've no one at hand to replace you. Can I assume you'd be willing to continue on as captain until we know its ultimate fate?'

'Yes, of course. I don't want to complicate things. Keeping the Lost Star sailing is my only concern, so if there's anything I can do to help, just ask.'

'Right. Then we'll keep things as they are and postpone any further discussion until after we've achieved that goal,' she said briskly, adding, 'Now I've some practical matters to cover concerning the current status of your ship, Captain.'

'At your service,' I said, enjoying the little jolt of happiness your ship and Captain gave me.

'Right.' She proceeded to briefly outline her plans to negotiate with the Ministry of Death, and what she needed from me, and on to the practical details of paying off the crew and the necessity of informing them that if the Lost Star remained in commission, emergency Guild wage rates would apply.

'Finally, and this is strictly between us for the moment – Phylea has heard a rumor that the BlueStar Line is no longer going to serve Calissant. If true, it leaves the Tiladore Planetary recruitment operation in the lurch. They've lined up three thousand immigrants and are set to sail in little over three weeks. If this rumor proves true we might be able to charter the Lost Star to them. Between the suspended animation boxes and the immigrant's worldly goods, it looks to be an eighty container consignment with the usual human cargo premium – a very profitable charter to secure should it become available. Plus, it would get her back to the Sanre-tay quarter where there's still cargoes to be found.'

'Neb, that'd be great! Almost too good to be true. You'd think BlueStar wouldn't pass on that cargo.'

'Well, the BlueStar Line may still send one of their ships to fulfill their agreement, however, given their cost structures, it might not be worth it. Lines operate on a different scale than tramps. We'll know more in a few days. And of course not only will there be other parties interested in the charter, but we'll have to clear it with the Ministry as well. In any event, just keep this to yourself for now. With your crew downside, I'd rather not risk the word getting around. The local tramp shipowners haven't given up and it's in their interest to see as many of Uncle Hawk's ships taken out of service as possible,' she added, and standing to dismiss me, 'I believe I've covered everything for now. Thank you. It's been interesting.'

'Thank you. And anything I can do, don't hesitate to ask,' I said pushing myself to my feet. Damn that gravity...

And like an undetected meteor, an idea struck me with a mental 'clang' and I said, without thinking, 'Say Min, Are you free tonight?'

'Captain Litang?' She gave a slight start, caught off guard, but added in a distinctly chilly tone, 'I see I must learn to deal with tramp captains who do things their own way...'

Blast! Just what I didn't want to do. Could I repair the damage?

'We like directness,' I ventured with a tentative smile. 'Saves time and money. However, in this case, I was speaking as the thought struck me and should've chosen my words more precisely. What I meant to say was, would you honor us by being our guest at a banquet aboard ship tonight? I'm embarrassed that the idea hadn't occurred to me before this instant. If I had my wits about me, I'd have sent you an invitation on arrival. Please overlook my abrupt and offhanded invitation and accompany me up to the Lost Star for a Mycolmtreian feast?'

'Thank you, but I, I have work to do.' She looked away, out into the grey mist, searching for a better, a believable, excuse.

Perhaps I should've left the matter rest, but that didn't suit my Neb may care attitude, so I said, 'I'll take that feeble excuse as a yes. You can't work all night, so I'll wait until you wrap up work and we can be off to the ship.'

She looked back to me. 'I'm not sure what you're inviting me to.'

'We're staging a banquet to celebrate surviving the voyage under the command of yours truly. Since we're going to be paid off and may be downside for some time, we've harvested our moss garden crops and the Drays are even now preparing an expansive feast. As a former shipmate, the agent of our current owner, great niece of our late owner and daughter of our late bookkeepers and agents, you must certainly be our guest of honor. Indeed, with all those connections, I'd venture to say it's your duty. It'll give you the chance to see everyone and make the old gang very happy. Plus, you'll see the ship alive with everyone on board. Please join us,' I added earnestly.

She looked away again into the fog for a moment, shrugged, and nodded, 'You've not left me any maneuvering room, so all I can say is that I'd be delighted to join the company of the Lost Star to celebrate their safe return. I can imagine how harrowing it must have been for them,' she added with a faint smile.

'For me most of all. It'll be grand. You'll bring so many good memories with you – a barrier against an uncertain future, which is what this banquet is really about.'

'It will be wonderful to see everyone, the Lost Star and taste Mycolmtreian cuisine once again. When should I arrive?'

'We'll go up together. You'll be my surprise guest. I'll just hang about and annoy your staff while you finish up. I'll signal Molaye to bring the gig down for us.'

'Not necessary. These days I'm living aboard the Silvery Moon and go up every evening, so you can ride with me. I suppose I should stop first at the 'Moon to change into something more festive.'

'You look dashing as you are. This will be, after all, just a tramp ship soiree which will doubtlessly sink into a right carouse. And there's no need to hurry, it's not slated to start before this evening. I'll wait out in the office.

### Chapter 08 Calissant Anchorage

We took a flier through the night to the glowing patch of fog that marked Yacht Club clubhouse. Attempts at conversation were tentative, bordering on awkward, so we let the silences run on. An observation here and there sufficed.

The Yacht Club's underground velowalks may be cleaner, faster and warmer than those of the Smallcraft Field but the tarmac was just as cold and damp, the snow banks just as sooty. The puddles were refreezing and I feared Min might have trouble navigating them, but she walked with total confidence and reached her boat without incident. I had a few close calls. Damn that gravity.

Her elegantly white space boat, Ghost, a fifteen meter StarSprite Elite 7ZX looked comfortably at home on the Yacht Club tarmac. A hybrid atmospheric/space boat, it had stubby wings, a split tail with its rocket engines set in its wings. She keyed the hatch open as we neared and we hurried on board. The main compartment was furnished with half a dozen convertible seats forward with a conversational area and a compact galley aft. As she headed for the cockpit, I hung back, unsure of where I was expected to ride.

'You can copilot,' she said, climbing into her seat without a backward glance. 'We all have our tickets here,' she added, and indicating that I could sync my com link into the system as well.

'Thank you,' I said as I settled in the copilot's seat, buckled up and synced my com link to the Ghost. 'I've never had the opportunity to fly in a boat of this caliber.'

'It's my dearest possession, a gift from Uncle Hawk on my fourteenth birthday. Since his daughter was not interested in space, I was the focus of his enthusiasm for space boats and space boat racing. My parents didn't approve, of course, but Uncle Hawk believed the earlier you fly, the better you fly. He'd take me up for an atmospheric or space flight and hand the controls over to me, saying Fly her. I suspect my enthusiasm reminded him of his youth as well.'

'It's quite a gift.'

'He claimed to have won it in a game of Black Empire, but I doubt it. It was one of his ways of encouraging me to follow in his orbit. I owe him for far more than the Ghost,' she continued as she went through the preflight checklist. 'Between his yarns and his tutelage, he gave me the encouragement and opportunity to follow him into space. Only the last time I saw him, when he visited me on Kimsai, was he suddenly more cautious about my spaceer career. No doubt my crash had a lot to do with that. I wish he was here now.'

'We miss him too. It's hard to imagine a new owner replacing him.'

'He can't be replaced,' she said simply, and reaching for the radio, pinged port control for clearance. She fired the landing rockets, and after getting our taxi clearance, pulled into the access lane and out to the short runway.

With our final clearance she opened the main rockets wide. An invisible hand pushed me back against the seat cushions and in an instant we were airborne at forty-five degrees that swung to ninety several seconds later, the heavy hand pressing on my chest never letting up. This is, by the way, how you properly fly rockets.

I closed my eyes to better follow her course via the com link. The boat calculates the trajectory to rendezvous with the Lost Star based on its real-time position and speed. However, a rocket boat under power is constantly accelerating so the course is constantly being recalculated and lags slightly behind the actual convergence point. You can program a course and just follow it or you can add predictive variables, but those can get rather speculative, small changes getting ignored or magnified. Min simply did it all in her head, following an instinctive course instead of the boat's slightly dated one. She rode the rockets, effortlessly adjusting for patches of turbulence and wind drift. And she didn't let up. She kept the rockets firing to the mid-point where she briefly paused to swing the boat about and begin an equally fierce deceleration, keeping me pressed to the seat. I'll say it again; this is how you fly rockets.

And before I was ready for it to end, the pressure let up, the boat grew loudly silent, gravity was gone and via the boat's sensors, I could sense my ship hanging a kilometer off to starboard. I sighed, contented, and muttered, 'I think I'm in love.'

I opened my eyes and turned to express my admiration of her piloting only to see her watching me with an expression that looked, even in the instrument lit cabin, fierce.

'Captain Litang?'

'Ah,' I said, gathering my wits. 'My apologies, again. What I meant was I love your piloting. You handle rockets the way they're meant to be handled. Sorry, I seem to be saying things without thinking today.'

She shrugged, muttering under her breath, 'Tramp spaceers.'

'Liner poshes,' I muttered undermine. I, however, was attempting to be humorous, which fell short of orbit, so I added, 'You liner pilots don't know what it's like in tramp service. Once in my early days I flew the ship's gig like you just did and I was immediately summoned by Captain Miccall and told very plainly that is not the way boats are handled in the tramp service. Was I under the illusion that rocket tubes and fuel come free in packets of breakfast cereal? If I wished to wantonly expend rocket tubes and fuel for my own pleasure, I could buy my own, for he had no intention to subsidize my extravagances. And for the last fifteen years, I've piloted boats like they were made of lace. So you see, I was merely expressing my appreciation for the beauty of something done right and sadly, in my experience, rarely.'

Before she could reply, the radio broke in with Myes Qilan gruffly warning us that we were within the ship's safety zone.

With a nod from Min, I answered, 'Hi Myes, Wil here with Tallith Min. We'll be boarding the port gangplank.'

He acknowledged with a short. 'Right, Skipper. Hey, Talley. Port gangplank.' and closed contact.

'I'm not a liner pilot any more,' she said as she began her approach, adding, 'Never wanted to be one. I always wanted to be in the tramp service. When I was eighteen I presented myself to Uncle Hawk expecting to be given an apprenticeship on one of his ships. He told me to finish my education, so I did. At twenty-one I again presented myself, and instead of one of his tramps, he arranged my apprenticeship with the Zenith Line, insisting that a few years on a regular freight liner would do me good. Never said why.'

'Well, you now have more experience under power than a tramp pilot with ten or fifteen years tramping. That's worth something,' I ventured. Freight liners like the Z-Line Aurora make their whole voyage under power, accelerating the first half, decelerating the last half while most tramps, are under power only a day or two at the beginning and the end of the passage.

'Still, except for a brief overview of the other departments, I spent my entire time on the bridge. If I'd been on a tramp I'd know a whole lot more about ships by now.'

'True, but there's still time. You're young...'

'My spaceer days are over. I don't know where my Z-Line seniority puts me these days – probably on the beach. But even if I could go back, I wouldn't want to toss some poor pilot on to the beach when I don't need the wages. Plus, I've my family's firm to look after, even though I know next to nothing about being a shipbroker. I owe it to my parents' memory and my brother and sister to learn and earn the dividends the firm pays us each quarter.'

'It must be hard... Still, having a boat like this should make being a shipbroker a little more tolerable. I'm hoping that by the time my watches in space are over, I'll have found my own space boat. I'll have it out in the barn... A vintage boat, mind you, that I'll slowly restore... And on those restless spring nights of Faelrain, when the sky's so clear and too bright and the wind so reckless that I have to go somewhere, I'll roll it out and take it up to the moon and back. Under power the whole way.'

She gave me a quick, unreadable glance, but said nothing as she edged Ghost alongside the extended gangplank. It did not move a centimeter when the Ghost contacted the lock. Docking done right.

We unbuckled and swarmed over to the upper hatch aligned with the dock. 'Perhaps I best go first, Astro and Orbit are undoubtedly waiting and they can be rather enthusiastic.'

'Astro and Orbit are still aboard?' she said, with a smile. 'I wonder if they'll remember me?'

'Doesn't matter, everyone's a long lost pal,' I said and instantly regretted it. Again.

I swung out first and Min followed. Illynta Tin, keeping Astro and Orbit in check, was waiting on the landing stage and she called out her greeting as Min settled in beside me.

'Hello Aunt Illy,' Min said as she hurried past me to meet her.

Astro and Orbit, however had grown quiet, edging back. Min was something new to them. This allowed Illy and Min to exchange a hug and some greetings without dogs floundering about them. They considered the whole proceedings carefully. You could tell this because they tilted their heads, it's what passes for thinking with them. They edged closer and when she knelt to talk to them, they must have recognized her scent or voice or just decided, any old orbit, a new pal! And they were their old barking, licking, bounding selves. This brought up Riv and Lilm from the engine room.

'Talley my dear!' exclaimed Riv as he swung on to the deck from the well, 'My you've grown tall! And what marvelous legs!' he added as he approached and gave her a hug.

'What did you just say Riv?' exclaimed an outraged Lilm following her partner up. 'Ignore him Talley, he's grown so witless and disreputable in his old age.'

'I was merely commenting on her legs as an engineer, love. They're a mechanical marvel. And she has grown so tall...'

Min laughed, 'I did seem to grow ten centimeters when I had these legs made...'

I saw Myes coming out from the bridge, so I stepped over to Min and said, 'I'll leave you to your old shipmates. See you later.' She nodded and embraced gruff ol'Qilan, 'Uncle Myes...'

I slipped away to sample the banquet entrees. A captain's job is never done.

An hour later the Merluns, Anre and Mya, Molaye's parents, docked their boat on the starboard gangplank. Both Anre and Mya had sailed aboard the Lost Star for many years, though long before I signed on – Mya as a pilot and Anre as the electrical engineer aboard. They're regular visitors whenever we're in Calissant orbit so we had invited them to the banquet. Molaye, Kie, Illy and I, as well as the hounds, welcomed them aboard and escorted them up the awning deck.

'I hope our Molaye hasn't been giving you any trouble,' said Anre as we sampled the appetizers the Drays had set out.

'Oh, dad!' exclaimed Molaye. 'Of course I haven't.'

'Trouble? Of course not,' I replied. 'Why would she?'

'See,' said Molaye in mock outrage.

'Oh, we were just curious. We knew Fen could handle her, but we were curious how well you'd be able to manage her,' said Mya, ignoring Molaye.

'Oh, he's a mean ogre. A regular drift dragon. I wouldn't dare step out of line,' protested Molaye, not expecting anyone to believe that.

Puzzled, I turned to Illy, 'Illy?'

She just laughed, 'She's settled right in, Mya. We hope to keep her if we can clear this port.'

'Good,' said Mya, adding for my benefit, 'Molaye was always a daredevil. Anything fast and dangerous appealed to her. Plus, she has a mind of her own. A sweet girl, but very determined to get her own way. She was a handful to bring up...'

'Takes after her mother,' added Anre with a laugh.

'Well, she's been the ideal apprentice. And an amazing pilot. A natural.'

'Takes after her mother,' muttered Anre again.

'And all her sweet talking comes from you,' replied Mya.

'It's been a pleasure to oversee her progress,' I assured them. 'She'll have no problem getting her ticket. And she's been an ideal shipmate as well, always cheerful, cooperative, and willing to pitch in anywhere and eager to learn everything. A valued member of the crew. You can be very proud of her,' I added. I was very proud of her as well – my first apprentice.

Molaye beamed. 'See.'

'Nevertheless, Wil, if you avoid the beach and sail with her, keep her on a short leash. I know she has a way with machines that borders on the uncanny, but don't let her run wild.'

'Well, we're just an old tramp, as you well know. She can't run too wild.'

'Aye. But there's still plenty of engine in the old girl. I'm just saying don't be too indulgent. She seems to have the same power over people as she has over machines,' said Anre, drawing her close. 'As well we know. I blush to think of all the things she talked us into letting her do. Rocket board racing was the final straw. How she managed to talk us into that I can't say to this day. All I know is that it scared us more than halfway to death...'

'Oh, it wasn't that dangerous!' protested Molaye. 'No one ever got killed.'

'It was the rocket board racing that prompted us to ask Fen to sign her on,' added Mya. 'We're glad she's settled in, but don't be fooled, she likely can talk you into anything she wants should she set her mind to it. She sure did with us.'

'I'll keep that in mind, but I can honestly say the Molaye you're describing doesn't seem to match my apprentice pilot. I've stood watch with her for two years now and she's as solid and safe pilot as I've ever crossed orbit with,' I said. Flashy, yes, but never beyond her skills.

'See,' she beamed again.

'Lying in the drifts, Wil. She's just lying in the drifts,' said Anre with a wink.

'Well, we have Kie her to keep her steady. You won't find a more solid, level headed young man in all the Nebula,' I said.

'And I'll bet she twists you around her little finger,' Anre said to Kie.

Kie just blushed.

And he seems to like it, I thought, but decided not to say it out loud. Instead I said, 'In any event, I don't think she can get into too much trouble as a pilot of an old tramp freighter. And I assure you, I'll have her on the carpet if she tries to fly one of the ship's boats like I know she can. I still remember Miccall's speech word for word and I'm looking forward to reciting it to some other poor young pilot.'

'I can remember it too,' laughed Mya. 'Used variations of it all the time bringing up Molaye, for all the good it did. Good luck, Wil.'

The Drays went all out for the feast. We'd been planning it since Pinelea, so dishes that could not be properly prepared in free fall had been made when we were under power. The rest of them now in orbit. There were four Mycolmtreian and half a dozen other favorite entrees, some of them rather challenging to eat in free fall. (Loose components tended to be rather evasive in free fall, escaping their serving dishes to float about, especially later in the meal. But we had the dogs.) But all was well worth the challenge. I contributed a small case of Mystwine, famous for quickly creating a mellow mood and that carried us through the meal in fairly sedate order. After the dinner proper, the party moved to the awning deck, decorated with an elegantly patterned awning and floating lanterns. Since this was officially a celebration of having survived a voyage under my command, I took a certain amount of slander from my nominal subordinates and gave a short speech and our musically inclined shipmates put on little performances before things became rather jovial.

I'd decided my best policy was to let Min hang with the old gang, so I spent only as much time with her as I felt politeness required. She didn't seem to mind. I was happy to see her laughing and clearly enjoying herself as the party went on and it took just a little arm twisting by Riv and Illy, to get her to stay in one of our guest cabins and make a night of it. I knew she was attached to the Lost Star of her youth, but it wouldn't hurt to form a bond with the present ship and company as well, a bonding that was well underway when I left the crew to their carouse around the middle of the fifth watch. I may not be very captain like, but I do carry a residue of authority. So to give them the fling they deserved, I made a point of bowing out long before the party drew to a close sometime in the first watch.

Early in the second watch, the Merluns with Molaye and Kie looking only half dead sailed for Yendora for a few days of leave at home before returning to Port Prime and their board exams. I wished them the best of luck to their grim nods.

Sometime later Min found me in the ship's office completing my accounts for paying off the crew. Our conversation was sparse, polite but wary, perhaps due to the lingering effects of the party on her part and my determination not to undo any good will it may have instilled. I sent her off to the Silvery Moon with a large packet of leftovers.

The rest of Fifthday was spent raising the nearly dead, paying them off and getting them down to Calissant under Illy's watchful eye. She took them down in the longboat directly to the new beach-combing spaceer rendezvous of Port Braque-nela. Only Dyn and I, with Astro, Orbit, Ginger, and an unknown number of other cats, and bachelor birds remained on board by the end of the day. Dyn never left the ship if he could help it, and I've never spent enough time on Calissant to have any attachments to anybody or anything, so I was content to watch the ship with Dyn.

We kept busy on Sixthday cleaning Miccall's quarters. It had remained vacant the whole voyage as Dyn slowly cleared it of Miccall's possessions, giving away his treasures to crew members with special requests, packing the rest in boxes that joined all the other remnants of past shipmates in the strong room of no. 4 hold. We sealed the quarters in a closed environmental loop, cranked up its circulating fans as I, in a light space suit power-cleaned the suite, creating a thick mist of detergent droplets as I scrubbed seventy years of gaspeleaf pipe smoke film off the bulkheads, ceiling and deck. This yellow mist and several rinses were sucked out in a little hurricane and air dried before the loop was opened. And with that, the last of Captain Miccall faded to memory.

With that final task done, Dyn vanished. As our environmental engineer, much of his work lies between the outer and inner hull, and being pretty much a recluse at the best of times, his disappearance was not surprising, though it left only Astro and Orbit to keep me company while Ginger, who had us as her only prey, stalked us at every turn. They were a frail shield against loneliness, worry and the subtle eeriness of the crew-less ship. To keep it all at bay, I kept busy, no project too trivial to escape the attention of Captain Litang.

### Chapter 09 Captain

The Ghost, up from PortPrime appeared within the Lost Star's alert range late in the third watch on Firstday.

'Anyone home?' asked Tallith Min, her voice from the com implant in my ear.

I opened the link. 'Hello Min. I'll meet you on the port gangplank. I'm in the garden, so you may arrive before I do. Astro and Orbit will do the honors.

'Astro and Orbit will suit me fine.'

Moss gardens are rare in tramp ships. Most tramps rely on culture vats and synth-galleys to supplement food purchased from planet-side caterers. We mostly use our culture vat and synth-galleys for faux grains and meats. All our fruits, vegetables and the great variety of mushrooms essential to Mycolmtre cuisine are grow in a three-deck tall climate controlled garden attached to the galley. The plants grow on adjustable shelves in artificial 'moss' which anchors them and delivers water and nutrients. It demands a great deal of attention, individual plants must be hand tended, bound, pruned and harvested in order to thrive both in free fall and under acceleration, but we're devoted to our stomachs so we diligently tended the garden.

Though we had picked the garden clean, there was still work to do. I was attending to our vinelina beans' vines, attached to an articulated arm that kept me in place over the plants. I had to extract myself from the stack, and pass through an air lock to strip off the light anti-contamination suit before exiting the garden.

Min, dressed stylishly as usual in black and white, was already on the sunlit landing stage fending off the sloppy tongues of our official greeters when I arrived.

'Welcome aboard,' I called out, hurrying to save her from the very lonesome delegation.

'Captain,' she said with a rather wary nod, dodging the kisses of the bounding dogs.

'Down you blasted hounds,' I said, snagging their collars to keep them on the deck. 'I'm afraid we're starved for company... I'm as happy to see you as they are, but far more inhibited...''

'Right,' She muttered, giving me a look that I'd come to translate as "tramp spaceers..." She dried her face with her sleeve. 'It's been less than two days and I thought Dyn was also aboard.'

'It's still lonely. Dyn's a fine shipmate, but iffy as company. He usually keeps to himself somewhere between the hulls. So it's only the hounds and an occasional cat to keep me company – makes the ship seem very big and rather eerie.'

'Haven't seen Glen Colin about, have you?' That, with what may have been a fleeting smile.

'No – we stay clear of the engine room – it's downright spooky. Still, I might've welcomed his company, though I much prefer yours,' I added and realized I was once more sailing near the edge.

'I'm flattered.' She didn't even try to make it sound sincere.

The vulnerable Min glimpsed for that second on the roof seemed destined to haunt my dealings with her every time we're together. We both were well aware of that moment. It seemed pointless to pretend I'd not seen the pain and loneliness she hides. Still, a spaceer is, almost by definition, someone who's going away, so what could not be undone, would soon be gone. Sooner, if Min had her way.

So Neb may care, I decided. 'Hardly flattery. You're far more pleasing company than a drunken ghost. Am I right, lads?' This to Astro and Orbit at my side. They barked their agreement. 'We all agree. All the more because I hadn't expected to hear from you until tomorrow at the earliest. Bringing good news, I hope?'

She gave me an exasperated look, but got on to business, 'As a matter of fact, I am. It's all so very strange – inexplicable. I called the Ministry this afternoon and managed to reach one of Bangtonre's aides, who said that they were close to finishing the documents. In the meanwhile, I could do as I pleased with the Lost Star. I've no idea what documents he was talking about. Too stunned to ask. I was still trying to take it in, when he signed off. But if I heard right, it seems I've been given a free hand...'

'You did it!'

'I didn't do a Neb blasted thing. They just turned it over to me before I even asked. Makes me feel silly.'

'Must be the last two years you've spent amongst the Taoists of Kimsai, You've mastered their secret of effortless efforts.'

She sighed. 'I must have learned that effortlessly too, because I don't recall even trying to learn it... But that's not all my news. An hour ago, Phylea confirmed that the BlueStar Line is abandoning Calissant, leaving the Tiladore Commission in the lurch. We contacted them straight away. They're rather frantic to find a replacement to keep the project on schedule. I told them I had a suitable ship available for charter, though they might want to deal with a broker to assure themselves of the best terms. That didn't seem to register, they sent over their manifest and requirements almost before the conversation ended. I suspect our call was a life line to them.'

'Will they go without other bids?'

'Who knows? They may well calm down by tomorrow and put it out for bids.'

'If so, what are our prospects? There's an anchorage of idle ships in orbit.'

'Not really, not operating ones. Working ships don't linger, they take whatever cargo's available and push on. Our database suggests there may be just half a dozen tramps in orbit or inbound that could meet the Commission's time table.'

'Who are we looking at?'

'The Indus and Lyra, Distant Star Line, Anna Li, a Circle Star Line tramp, Scarlet Sun, a Rigtania Express, and two Azminn Worlds Express ships, the Sanre-tay Prime and Laslion Alpha. There are also assorted Calissant tramps in orbit, but none are manned at the present. Anything to add from your experience?'

'Only that Captain Noy of the Lyra, is highly regarded. Distant Star gives their captains a very free hand in finding cargo, and Noy of the Lyra is their best,' I said, pausing to consider what I wanted to say next.

'However, tramp captains are leery of passengers – should anything go wrong and passengers lost, it's likely the end of your career and maybe the company's as well. We leave that trade to the liners and the box tourist ships. I suspect even Noy would defer the decisions about a three thousand immigrant cargo to the Distant Star Line front office, and what they decide will likely depend, on how badly they want those credits.'

'But you don't have a problem carrying three thousand immigrants?' Min asked, watching me closely.

I shrugged. 'Candidly, I'd not be too heartbroken if we don't get the charter. Still, keeping the Lost Star in service is our prime priority so I'd not object, cargo's cargo. We can handle it. It's merely the consequences of a mishap that give me pause.'

I was, indeed, less enthusiastic than when it was merely a rock in the drift. The risks were slight, but meteors can penetrate holds, container environmental units occasionally fail and fires or mechanical malfunctions can deprive ships of power for days, Rare, but somewhere in the space ways of Nine Star Nebula they likely happen on a daily basis. Bad business for regular cargo, but potential tragedies when it involves passengers. And at the back of my mind, there was always the slight risk of pirates as well. For these reasons Miccall never carried passengers, period.

'What about the freight lines? I'd say we'd have to worry more about them than any tramp,' I said, perhaps too hopefully.

'Only two possible in the time frame, the Z-line Azimuth, leaving on the third of SecondSpring, and a Tri-Star Packet Rigtania on 28 FirstSpring. Neither, of course, serves Tiladore direct. Times being what they are, they might be tempted to alter their run to call on Tiladore for 80 containers since it's not too far out of their usual track. More likely they'd just offer to arrange transshipment from Sanre-tay. We should be able to under bid them, their business departments are unlikely to discount their standard passenger fare even for a three-thousand-person package.'

'Then we have the inside orbit.'

'I believe so, and I intend to take advantage of it,' she replied. 'Tiladore's first priority is getting their immigrants off on schedule, so I want to make a prompt, competent impression by getting our bid to them or their broker tomorrow morning.'

'Right, let's jump up to the chart room and see what we can work up,' I replied, seeing which way the drift was flowing.

As the dogs raced us up the access well, she said, 'I'm thinking we'll offer several price points and transit times, to cover us in response to any competing bids... Failing to land this contract, my only real alternative is sending it empty to Sanre-tay at a loss.'

'A minimal one if we take our time in transit, but let's see how the figures work out.'

We swung out onto the bridge deck, where Astro and Orbit were waiting for us with wide grins.

The dogs followed us to the chart room and settled quietly into the corner so I let them be. Min and I anchored ourselves alongside the large chart table and turned on the larger chart screen on the forward bulkhead as well. I called up the positions of Calissant and Tiladore and adjusted them for the scheduled departure day while Min downloaded the manifest information.

Tiladore lays nearly opposite Calissant in the Azminn system. The most direct course would plunge us deep into the sun's gravitational well and use it to fling us back out again. How close we wanted to get to Azminn and what side we wanted to fly around it had to be determined. Tiladore, however, is only a planet away from Sanre-tay and Sanre-tay was the first planet of call for Min's former ship, Aurora so I had an old hand on cross system navigation next to me.

'I'm wondering if you'll work up the course options while I balance the ship and come up with the performance curve,' I suggested, adding, 'You're the expert here on cross system navigation. I've spent my entire career sailing the planetary belt.'

She sighed. 'Really, Captain. I'd think a cross system plot not be beyond your powers as a pilot.'

'I'd like to believe so. But why should I waste your time by running sims on all the possible courses when I have an expert beside me who can lay down the most likely course with her eyes closed? Besides, I'll still need to run the manifest data myself. If we split the tasks, we'll save time. I believe in efficiency.'

'Point taken. I don't propose to spend the night watching you reinvent cross system navigation. Let's see if there's a clear optimal orbit...'she said mostly to herself and leaning over the table, began laying out the course.

While she explored alternative courses, I entered the manifest data to calculate cargo weight, and using the ship's thrust and burn rates to determine the fuel cost profile. I added labor, insurance and depreciation cost to the various courses that Min worked up. Working with quiet professionalism, we combined our data to determine the optimal courses for three variations of speed and prices for our proposal.

I studied her going over the formal proposals one last time. It had dawned on me that with the Ministry of Death signing off, she now had the power to decide my status. With prospects of sailing one way or another, my status needed to be determined, soon. Turning it over in my mind, I saw no advantage of letting it ride. I didn't think I'd be in better grace with her any time soon.

'This may not be the best time to bring this up,' I began as she downloaded the proposal to her com link. 'but with events now moving fast, I'm wondering if I'm advising you as captain or as first mate?'

'What would be the difference?' she asked after a slight pause and a sidelong glance.

'As first mate, I'd keep all my opinions to a simple, Yes, ma'am I agree.'

'And as captain?'

'Well, as captain, I'd say I agree if I actually agreed or If you think so, ma'am, if I thought you wildly off course,' I replied, adding, 'I don't need an answer this moment, but with the fate of the Lost Star seemingly settled and the prospect of a charter looming, operational decisions will soon have to be made and I am wondering if I need to concern myself with them or not...'

'Fair enough,' she said and paused. 'I don't know how much leeway the Ministry is prepared to give me. I'd likely still need to consult with them before replacing a captain, and make a case for doing it. I'd have a hard time making that case seeing that you've been captain for six months with a profitable voyage to your credit. Still, whether or not they care, the fact is that neither they nor I have any reason to replace you, based on your performance. So the real question is, do you wish to continue on as captain? I seem to recall some hesitation on your part. I believe it's up to you to decide, Captain, not me.'

I found, to my surprise, I had no doubts.

'Despite my earlier misgivings, I seem to have rather slipped into the role. So, if you're content to allow me the choice, I'd be happy and grateful to continue on as captain,' I replied with a surprising amount of happiness seeping in. The worries would, I'm sure, return, but in that moment, it was only happiness.

'Fair enough, Captain. I'm certain your shipmates will approve as well, so we'll put that matter to rest. Now about our proposals...'

No hint of her opinion, but still, with that rather off handed remark, I became Captain of the Lost Star.

### Chapter 10 Pilot

I savored my appointment even if it seemed mostly due to Min's inability to find a plausible excuse to sack me. It was a compliment, really. You serve at the whim of the owner, give them a reason to send you down and they will. I hadn't given her one.

With our fate seemingly settled, I'd want to re-sign the gang and if we landed the charter, we'd need a third pilot as well, since the contract would certainly require a full Guild-standard staffing level and that meant three full duty pilots.

'I say, Min,' I began, intending to ask her when I could re-sign the gang when it struck me that I'd my third pilot in the chart room.

'Yes?' she asked glancing my way.

I gave it only a second's thought. Neb may care, it felt like fate. 'Rockets Away,' I muttered to myself, 'How'd you like to follow your dream and run off to space as a tramp ship pilot? I'm a pilot short.'

She glared, darkly. 'No, and I don't find it funny.'

There was indeed, no humor in her glare, but I wasn't about to be intimidated.

'I'm serious. We'll need a third pilot, assuming Molaye gets her ticket and you're the ideal choice – a born pilot, excellent navigator and an old shipmate who'd fit right in.'

And to emphasize my point, I called the Guild contract form to the surface of the chart room table. 'I have the form right here...'

'I'm not free.' she said, sharply. 'I've a business to run, part of which involves keeping you employed. You may not consider it much of a job, but you'd be on the beach if I shared that attitude.'

'Oh, I know it's essential, it's just not for you. Not now. Someday, maybe, but not now. You've faced your terrible losses and haven't flinched. You've stepped up to your responsibilities, but...' I paused to consider what I wanted to say next.

She just watched me, nothing I'd said had softened her sharp, angry glare.

'But it would be a shame to compound that price by sacrificing your youth to the tragedy as well.'

'That price has already been paid. My course is set. I'm no longer a young girl dreaming. I'll not run off and abandon my parents' work of fifty years, especially in these times. We're done here.'

I'm not more superstitious than the next spaceer and I've never seen a ghost aboard the Lost Star, but I'd a feeling in my bones that if I ever did meet the ghosts of Captain Vinden or the Mins I'd want to say to them that I tried to get Tallith Min to follow her old dream. She was glaring plasma knives at me, but since she'd all but admitted that she couldn't fire me, I was undeterred.

'The Nine Stars have aligned to put you in a position to follow your dreams – and aboard your parents' fabled ship. You're too young to find yourself in a downside office. I'm certain even your parents would've wanted you to see something of the Nebula before you settled into a downside office. Why you'll not even be able to see the rockets go up once you move to your new office.'

'The die is cast. It is too late to change it.'

'It's not too late. Kardea is extremely competent. She's been running the operation for decades, so you needn't worry how Min & Co will fare without you...'

'Thank you for that candid appreciation of the value of my work...'

'Damn it, Min, you're a spaceer not a ship broker. Let Kardea run it. She's a shipbroker. If it makes you feel guilty, take her on as a partner in the firm. She's earned it. But sail with us.'

'I'll not shirk my responsibilities, whether you think me capable or not.' She rose from the stool and turned to go. 'It's getting late.'

'Tallith, wait.' I'd found my true course. 'Please?'

She glanced sharply back, as did the dogs, who'd risen from their nap when she started to leave.

'We've been talking at cross purposes,' I began slowly, giving the germ of an idea time to grow. 'You don't have to choose between Min & Co and the Lost Star.'

'Really?' A word like a spoken knife edge.

'Yes. It's my understanding Kardea ran the operational side of the business, finding the cargoes, drawing up the contracts, looking after all the details of the business. Your parents brought in, dealt with, and kept the firm's clients happy. That's your role. You're the new face of Min & Co and you need to get out and meet Min & Co's clients – all the ship captains, agents, partners and shippers across the whole system. They'll certainly want to meet you. They'll want to take your measure and tell you what they think. There's only so much you can learn in that office. You need to get out and meet your clients on their home planets.

'So you see, I'm offering a chance to learn two trades, shipbroker and tramp ship pilot. You can be Min & Co in port and a pilot in passage, both without compromise. How can you lose?' I added with a smile, not returned, but her eyes were thoughtful.

I'd probably said enough, so I just added, 'Sorry, I'm not normally given to speech making but, well, this opportunity just seems so right, Tallith... for you and the Lost Star.'

That brought a mirthless laugh. 'You certainly didn't seem to know when to stop...'

'I was taught negotiations end when one party says No and means it. You haven't said No. You've merely given me objections to overcome, which, I must say, I have...'

She looked away. I left her to her thoughts for a few moments before adding, 'We've a spare davit on the boat deck for the Ghost, so you can bring her along. And I'd not dock your wages for the extra rocket fuel that hauling it entails...'

'You seem pretty free with ship's accounts, Captain,' she said quietly.

'Just goes to show how close an eye you're going to have to keep on me. You're going to need to be on board.'

'I'm beginning to think so,' she said with a glance back that gave nothing away.

'Right. I'll sign you on right now, if you like. Think about it – talk it over with Kardea. I'll not fill the berth until we have to sail, so you've time to decide.'

'I'm too tired to think tonight. We'll see...'

'Fair enough,' I said and looking down to dismiss the Guild form the words "Tallith Ocila Min" on the form caught my eye. "Owner, Tallith Ocila Min".

### Chapter 11 Owner

'Captain?' I heard Min say in the background. 'Is something wrong?'

I looked up slowly, one thought chasing the next. 'No.' She was Vinden's obvious choice.

'What is? What's wrong?'

'Nothing, absolutely nothing at all,' I said, extended my hand. 'May I be the first to congratulate you!'

She looked at my hand. 'On what?' she asked warily.

'On your – no, our good fortune. Look – here on this form – you're listed as the Lost Star's owner. That had to have been one of the documents they were preparing. You are, after all, the obvious choice to inherit the ship.' I called up the ship's registration document to be certain and slid it across the desktop to her.

She leaned over and stared, frozen in place. 'Uncle Hawk...,' she said softly, eyes wide, but unseeing. After a few moments she pulled herself upright and glanced at the com link on her wrist. 'I have several messages from the Ministry. Hopefully they'll explain what this all means,' she said.

'Oh, I think it's obvious,' I said, as she touched the com link to download the messages.

While the com link's neural connections can display a document as a visual memory, it's easier with complex documents to read them rather than mentally review them, so I suggested, 'Let's retire to the office. You can put them up on a screen and read through them. I'll make us some cha.'

She nodded absently and we stepped around to the ship's office just down the passageway. I waved her to the working side of the desk and stepped over to the sideboard to make the cha. She loaded the documents to the desk viewer and began to read as Astro and Orbit curled up in the corner by her feet to resume their naps. I set a covered mug of hot cha on the desk and settled into a chair to sip mine as she silently reviewed the documents. The tiny random noises of the empty ship only emphasized the silence.

She considered them for quite a while before looking up to say, 'It appears that Uncle Hawk and Captain Miccall had an agreement that upon the death of one, the survivor had first option to buy the balance of the ship's shares. Uncle Hawk exercised this option, completing the purchase just prior to his own death. His will stated that I was to receive his share of the Lost Star as a gift. The Ministry, with all the relevant records in hand, saw no reason to delay the distribution of this asset prior to completing the entire estate. No doubt they wanted to avoid the expense of paying off and laying up the ship out of the general estate.'

'Ah. I was wondering how it happened so fast. It's obvious now, with your interest in space and his daughter's lack of it, that you'd get the Lost Star. Clearly he had it in mind from the beginning.'

'I don't think it's all that obvious. Cousin Galacia, even if she's not interested in his shipping business could expect to inherit it.'

'Well, you're certainly the heir in spirit to the Four Shipmates. Your stint in the liner service was likely meant to prepare you for being a ship owner one day,' I suggested.

'I don't think any of them expected to be gone for decades. This is far too early...' she replied, and turned back to the documents.

'Oh! The estate is claiming all the profits of the voyage prior the date of Uncle Hawk's death...'

'Ah, that's rather unfortunate... Let me think...' I said, doing the rough math in my head.

'How bad?'

'Well, thanks to Captain Jann's boxes, we'll be left with between 3 and 4 twelfths of the total,' I replied. 'It cuts our margin of error significantly, but does not preclude sailing empty to Sanre-tay and perhaps beyond, assuming we take our time and keep the wages only on the books. But it'd certainly be nice to land the Tiladore charter.'

Min considered our situation for several moments before replying, 'Just so there's no misunderstanding, I'm not poor, but my credit balance won't subsidize the operation of the Lost Star without profits for long. My parents seemed to have arrived with their fortune since Min & Co only paid their living expenses, and only that in the good years. Dividing their fortune has left me comfortable, but not rich enough to treat the ship like a yacht. It has to earn its keep...' She looked across the desk, rather stricken.

'I can imagine what you're feeling. Felt the same way when I was appointed acting captain. Just remember that the Lost Star has circled Azminn a hundred times and all Uncle Hawk did – at least as far as managing the ship – was to transfer his share of the profits to his account twice a year. We'll take care of you however actively or inactively you care to involve yourself with the ship. If there's a profit to be made in the Azminn system, we'll make it for you.'

'If there's a profit to be made...'

'We have a hundred loyal customers on twenty worlds – we'll get by,' I said, perhaps not quite as confident as I wanted it to sound. Times are tough.

'Thank you. I'll try not to worry.... too much,' she said, giving me one of her unreadable looks.

'It's our worry, Tallith. That's part of my job,' I said. 'I've gotten used to it.' I realized after I said it, that I was making an assumption that was no longer valid. She gave me a thoughtful look, but didn't point that out. She went back to reading her documents.

Later, 'May I offer you dinner?' I asked as she lowered the view screen. 'We've a wide choice of boxed meals in the bistro to heat up – leftovers from the banquet. Or I can try my hand at dinner, but it'd have to be simple. Free fall cooking is at the far edge of my expertise...'

'Thanks, but it's getting late and I need to be pushing off. Vyn and Ten will be getting anxious.

'Vyn and Ten?'

'The standing crew of the Silvery Moon. Vynnia enCarn and Tenry Roynay. I've known them all my life. They're like family. When they weren't needed aboard the Moon, they acted as my parents' major-domos about the flat and country house. Now they've taken to looking after me,' she added with a wry grin. 'Whether I like it or not.'

''Glad to hear that. I pictured you returning to an empty ship.'

'Would that be any different than going home to an empty flat?'

I shrugged. 'After spending two days almost alone aboard this packet, I'd have to say yes. I'm glad you've people to go home to.'

'Well, you have Astro and Orbit. I'll leave him to you guys,' she added to the dogs, laying or rather drifting at our feet, their paws having lost contact with the deck. She rose and we, the dogs and I followed her into the passageway and down through the dark, silent ship to the dim-lit landing stage. Here she paused and stared out into space for a few moments before glancing at me.

'I'm going to have to give all this a great deal of thought...' she said, with a quick glance at me.

'I understand completely,' I said, and did. I was acting captain once more. 'She's yours to do with as you please. I hope I might stay aboard in some capacity.'

'Of course, I'd hope everyone will stay on. It may take me several days to sort this all out so I'd appreciate it if you'd keep all this strictly between us. If anyone asks, tell them things look promising, but the details will have to wait. I'd rather not alert my rivals and, well, I'd like to appear competent and decisive when I've finalized my plans.'

'Right.'

'Thank you, Captain. Fair orbits.'

'Fair orbits, Owner,' I replied as she turned and made her way along the gangplank to the Ghost's open hatch.

### Chapter 12 New Beginning

It was the middle of the fourth watch (late Secondday evening in Primecentra). The bachelor birds were quiet, Astro, Orbit, and Ginger were dozing together in a pile on one of the fleeting sunny squares. And I, having finished my last mug of cha, was in the process of summoning the ambition to stand and drift off to my hammock for a nap when the Ghost lifted out of Port Prime and came alongside.

Min radioed a brief 'Hello 'Star' as she approached, rockets flaring, but held off docking, content to slowly orbit her ship. I replied with an equally brief 'Hello Ghost' and let her admire her tramp freighter. I'd done it myself.

I remained anchored on a lounge, while the dogs abandoned me – clattering off to the main stairs and down to the landing stage to await Min's arrival. Ginger, awakened by the departure of the dogs, looked around, stretched and curled back up and closed her eyes again. I used my com link tied into the ship's sensors to keep an eye on Min's boat.

'They never spent credits on the hull. Must have liked the authentic tramp look. Lots of character,' I said, via the com link, adding, 'Mostly in the patches, dents and fading livery...'

'So I see.'

'And, she's all yours, dents and all.'

I'd not heard from Min the entire day. No doubt busy courting the Tiladore charter and taking formal ownership of the Lost Star and its accounts. I spent the day doing odd chores aboard ship, thinking as little as possible about my future. With the exception of a few stragglers, most of the worries I've had to carry since the death of Miccall had been eliminated or passed on to the new owner.

I noticed Ghost edging in towards the starboard gangplank, so I pushed myself upright and headed down to join the dogs on the landing. I found Dyn waiting as well. I'd briefed him on Min's inheritance. He knows all and reveals nothing, so not telling him would've been pointless and petty. We exchanged a few words as the bright hull of Min's boat appeared in view, slipping into the gangplank dock without the slightest tremor. We stepped forward as the safety door-panel slid open. The dogs charged ahead. We caught them before Min emerged.

'Welcome aboard, Owner Min,' I sung out as she swung on to the gang plank. She was dressed in her usual blacks and whites.

'Congratulations, Talley,' added Dyn. The dogs barked their welcome, bounding under our hands.

'Thank you,' she said with a weary smile as she took my hand and Dyn's, 'Owner Min, is it, Captain?' she added as she knelt to greet the dogs.

'It was Pilot and Purser Min and Owner Vinden, so Owner seems part of the tradition.'

She shrugged. 'Talley, or Min if you care to be more formal, will be fine, Captain.'

'I rather like Owner, but Talley or Min it is, if you'll call me Wil. We're not much for formality, are we Dyn?'

He snapped to attention and said in his always unexpected show of wit, 'No sir, we're not.'

Min laughed and I just sighed. 'I rest my case.'

She hesitated a moment before saying, 'I believe I need to have a conversation with each of you...' she said, looking from Dyn to me.

Dyn spoke up, 'We can talk whenever. No hurry. I'm delighted you're our owner – it's the way Fen and Captain Vinden envisioned the future of the Lost Star. You have my blessings as well as theirs.

Min took his hand again. 'Thank you Dyn. I appreciate your blessing. I hope I can live up to your expectations. And theirs. We'll have a long talk later.'

'You'll do just fine. I'll leave you to talk to Captain Litang,' he said snapping a salute and heading back to the engine room and on to his inner hull realm.

'You see what I have to put up with. I don't suppose the captain of the Aurora would put up with that, but, we're tramp spaceers, and we have our own way of doing things.'

'So I've found, Captain.'

'Er, yes. The ship's office or awning deck?'

'The awning deck would be fine.'

The light of Azminn was now slanted down through the fabric awning and lanterns from the banquet as we arrived. We talked quietly in the bistro bay while I brewed two mugs of cha. Min told me about her talks with the Tiladore Planetary Development Committee – they seemed content to settle for us without a fuss if we meet all their requirements – and her adventures within the Ministries of Probate and Trade tying up the details of the ship's transfer. Luckily she could call on the experts at Min & Co to reset all the Lost Star's business relationships with customers and suppliers.

I handed her a mug of authentic Chantsom World cha and we walked out of the little bistro bay into the wide awning deck, now fleetingly bathed in a rich orange-red light as our orbit swung us around to the night side of Calissant.

Min stood watching the sun slip behind Calissant before she turned to me in the deepening twilight and said, 'First off, I've decided to accept your offer and sail with the Lost Star – as a pilot.'

'As a pilot and owner,' I assured her. ''I was thinking about it today, and I see no reason why it can't be done. Molaye's finished her cross-training so you'll slip nicely into that slot plus you'll be accumulating time on the bridge towards your master's ticket requirements. You'll want to be Captain Min as soon as you get your time in. All Calissant's tramp ship owners are ship captains.'

'We'll see,' she said quietly. 'The owner on record is now the White Bird Line. I'm merely shareholder in Spectre Holding Co, which happens to be a major share owner of the White Bird Line along with several other space related properties, like my Ghost. Please keep my ownership status secret for now. Owning a ship complicates things for Min & Co. Besides, a tramp ship pilot is what I'll be most of the time.'

'I don't see you needing to act as owner in passage. Now, however...'

'Yes, now we've things to settle. That's why I'm here,' she said warily, watching me.

I nodded. 'Good. We need a real owner in charge.'

She stepped away and looked out across the nebula sky for a moment. 'I took your suggestion about Phylea and Min & Co. I've appointed Phylea managing director and put into motion the sale of my share of the firm to her and the staff. I cannot be both a ship-owner and shipbroker without upsetting at least some of our clients. Phylea will run Min & Co and I will run the Spectre Holdings and the White Bird Line,' she glanced back with a faint smile.

'I'm sure that's for the best, though I hadn't thought you'd sell your share in the firm.'

She shrugged. 'Oh, I still control my brother's and sister's shares, so it doesn't matter. I've also decided to take the ship out of the system, to either the Aticor or Amdia system. This takes us beyond the operating sphere of Min & Co and will keep the firm's reputation above reproach. More importantly, it should offer us a better chance of earning a profit. There were almost a thousand tramps sailing the Azminn system, last year, next year there may be only five hundred eking out a slight profit. If we leave now, we'll be better established when other tramp owners seeking richer orbits, send their ships to the Amdia or Aticor star systems as well.'

I stared at her dumbfounded. It never occurred to me that we'd abandon our old rounds.

'Plus there's that girlhood dream which you reminded me of yesterday, to visit all the eight systems. I now have the means. I don't see how I can refuse. We'll sail for Sanre-tay either via Tiladore if we get the charter or empty and see if we can pick up an outbound cargo for either Aticor or Amdia. I understand that there's always lucrative work for a tramp willing to sail the deep drifts out of those systems,' she added with a smile, watching me (likely turning pale).

'If one is desperate enough to do drift work,' I corrected her.

Azminn lay between two of the nebula's many bands or drifts of dense dust and asteroid belts. Flourishing within these drifts are large human colonies devoted to mining and heavy manufacturing. And sometimes, less savory activities as well. Azminn doesn't have a great deal of trade with the various drift colonies but Aticor, which lays on the fringe of the Helgont Drift and Amdia within the Myzar Drift are far more integrated into the economies of the drifts.

'I admire your boldness. It's not a choice I'd have the courage to make. I'm a rather cautious fellow, you see. I'd have stayed serving our regular shippers, as we have for the last fifty years. We'd have to tramp a bit more, but I think we can get by.'

She offered a slight, cool smile, 'Any course has certain risks, Captain. Most will be mine.'

'Yes, but I should at least mention that on the voyage here, we discussed alternatives and came up with several possible alternatives. They're low investment, low risk, and possibly profitable options. For example, both Belbania and Kimsai are in a good position to be used as transfer points for the small planet trade ships. With smaller shipments the new norm, the small planet traders are taking on longer haul cargo, though they'd be better off making shorter hauls and more of them. If the Lost Star was to be put in orbit around either of these planets we could use the ship as an orbital warehouse and transfer point making it easier for these smaller ships to drop-off and swap cargoes, keeping them operating in their optimal range. And there's the possibility of using the ship as an orbital hotel or resort – look around, this is certainly luxury on a modest scale, especially for Belbania and Kimsai...' I paused. She looked mildly amused. I could see that I wasn't going to change her mind. I hadn't expected to, but I had to try.

'I've no intention of trying to talk you into anything. I merely felt I needed to mention that with some creative thinking there could be alternatives to going out of system that wouldn't be a drain on your credit balance...' and seeing the faintest smile touch her lips, if not her eyes I added, 'But that, I suspect is not your primary reason for wanting to go out of system.'

'Oh, it's one. But I don't really want to spend the next five years just scraping by with the odd cargo or running an orbital warehouse, whorehouse, or whatever.' This with a faint leer, adding, 'I might as well be a shipbroker.'

She was enjoying this a whole lot more than I.

'A hotel or resort. But I take your point. On the other hand, I don't know the first thing about tramping in either Aticor or Amdia.'

'Neither do I. Neb, I've only been a ship owner for a day. Neither of us has the experience going in, but we can call on our crew who do have that experience, so I think we can get by,' she replied. 'But first I must decide on what I want in a captain – what mix of experience, competence, and leadership do I need? Any ideas, Captain?' she said lightly with a sidelong glance my way. The deepening nebula lit twilight made reading her already guarded eyes impossible to read.

'Someone you trust, to start,' I said warily.

'Yes, to start. I also need someone I can work with and who can compensate for my lack of experience,' she replied quietly. 'Luckily, I've three options and two of them in hand. I have you, with your experience as the Lost Star's captain and first mate. I also have two very experienced master spaceers with the necessary tickets in ex-Commander Vynnia enCarn and ex-Boarding Boat Leader Tenry Roynay. Both are ex-Patrol with fifty years in the service and have served the Mins for decades since then. The third option would be to sign on an experienced tramp captain either here or on Sanre-tay.'

She paused to watch me.

I'd nothing to say, though I was thinking furiously.

'Before I can make my decision I'd need to know who's interested and who's not. Knowing my plans, do you want to be considered for the post or not?'

I'm no Brilliant Pax of the Space Ways. My plans never included tramping other systems or getting nearer to the drifts than an old spaceer's yarn. Neb, they never included being captain of anything more than a planetary jump ship. I'm pretty much an ol'Captain Crofter sort of character with very modest ambitions. But there's a chasm between being cautious and being a coward, and I felt myself straddling it. I stared out to the nebula trying to ignore the knot in my gut. It was a choice I really didn't care to make.

She gave me plenty of time to consider.

I knew now I could run the ship. Did it really matter where in the nebula I was running her? I've not sailed the drifts, but I didn't think we'd be too desperate to run needless risks. Azminn, Aticor, Amdia, or some drift – with the gang on board who've sailed these systems, I could sail the Lost Star anywhere in the Nebula, I guess. Besides, she had far better options, so what had I to lose by tossing in my cap?

'You know the limits of my experience,' I began slowly, 'I'm open to the idea of staying on as your captain but I wouldn't be upset if you passed me over,' I paused and added, 'The hard decisions will fall to you, as owner. I'd try to make those decisions rare, but they'll be yours. If I didn't trust you, I'd be a fool to take the job, or even sail with you, but I believe I can trust you, so I'm willing to sail with you, as captain, or in any other berth.'

'Fair enough. I think we can work together with that understanding, so I don't see any reason why you shouldn't continue on as captain of the Lost Star,' she said, which staggered me.

'But what of the other options?' I asked, trying to keep my alarm out of my voice.

'Neither Vyn nor Tenry were interested in the berth. Tenry didn't want the responsibilities and Vyn felt that not only does she know too little about the tramping business, but she feared her style of command – Patrol style – wouldn't sit well with a tramp crew. However, they're eager to sail with me, so we'll have their extensive experience in all eight systems and the drifts to call on. Plus, being ex-Patrol, they're familiar with the dark sides of those systems, which should serve us well. They know the ship's crew and I think will fit in quite comfortably. All in all, there's nothing lost by choosing you as captain. Besides, there's not much in the way of captains to choose from here – the most ambitious ones have left for Sanre-tay to find work, and do I really want to deal with an old experienced captain? Perhaps I could find a sweetheart of a captain who'd allow me to call the shots, but why take the chance when I have you in hand?' she said with a hint of a smile.

'A captain's job is to serve the owner, so I'll not take offense,' I replied with a shrug. 'Though I have one question, how do you see yourself fitting in as both a pilot and owner. In one role I command you, in the other you command me. What can I expect?'

'I'm out of the Z-line tradition where a ship's captain is lord and master – someone not to be trifled with. I don't intend to change; I see you as being in charge of the ship. I intend to act as owner only when I must, and only in matters that normally concern the owner. Otherwise I'm determined to become a tramp spaceer. I believe we can make that arrangement work. Don't you?'

'I think so. Indeed, I'd hope you'll take the opportunity to be a young, carefree pilot and let me do any worrying. I'll not forget you're the owner when I need an owner's decision.'

'I take it that you'll accept the appointment?'

'I'll give it a go. We can see how it works out. We'll know by the time we reach Sanre-tay where you'd have more options. Thank you, Tallith Min.'

'Good. I'll have Phylea prepare your contract. I'm afraid it's Guild emergency minimum until we're out of system...'

We talked only for a short time longer mostly on details concerning the Tiladore charter, before Min, exhausted from the long day, pushed on to the Silvery Moon.

I have to admit that after she had gone, and the full impact of what I'd agreed to started to sink in. It had me wondering if the Dark Neb had actually prevented Molaye from running down that buoy in order to land me in this orbit. It seems that from the day I was appointed acting captain, I've never really had a true decision to make, circumstances and the Neb have driven me along some invisible chart line.

### Chapter 13 The Tiladore Charter

01

Illy radioed from Port Barque-nela during the second watch wondering if there was any news. I told her that things looked promising, but that I could say no more. I heard the gang prompting her with more questions – rather surprisingly since it was early morning and they usually kept rather late hours when downside. When I refused, they threatened to find someone who would. Since the world of tramp shipping on Calissant is small enough, they might actually turn up someone who had noted the ship's new owner before it became a shell company, but that wasn't my problem. I merely advised them to be patient and enjoy their time on the beach while they had it.

After that, I studied Tinlai's Complete Cargo Handling's chapter on stowing suspended animation boxes (sleeper-pods) and then spent several hours drawing up a tentative chart for stowing and balancing the Tiladore Cargo. I may have been tempting the Dark Neb, but it kept my mind occupied while waiting for word on the charter.

The Ghost appeared early in the third watch and hailed the ship.

'Hello 'Star. I've brought a party up to inspect the ship. Sorry about the lack of notice. An inspection is required and we had the time,' said Min.

Astro and Orbit were off like a shot.

'I'd be delighted. Meet you at the port side gangplank.'

I headed for the landing stage smiling. Inspecting the ship is often the penultimate act of signing a new customer. Min's offer to inspect the ship without notice was doubtlessly meant to impress the Tiladore people with our competence. However unprepossessing our exterior was, Miccall and Vinden had lavished credits on the interior of the Lost Star to restore its original elegance as a passenger/cargo liner. It always impresses. Indeed, in three years as a trade inspector, I boarded almost a thousand ships and never found a finer looking, better maintained ship.

I arrived on the landing stage to find Astro and Orbit eagerly awaiting our guests. I knelt down, looked them in their eyes, and gave them a stern lecture on behaving themselves – no barking, no jumping, no licking. They cocked their head to indicate that they understood and then tried to lick my nose to assure me they were on board with the plan. And as the Ghost arrived, I gave them a stern stare to impress upon them the importance of keeping their wits about them.

The Tiladore group consisted of four people, three commission officials and their supercargo, who would be traveling with us to oversee their immigrants and goods in transit.

I'd objected to that requirement. A supercargo in a sleeper-pod who could be animated if necessary would've been preferable, but Min assured me it'd be a condition they'd insist on. Animated passengers increase the risk of piracy. In the old days, when the Lost Star carried passengers and cargo, the passenger section was sealed off from the rest of the ship by solid bulkheads. It had its own crew, galley and environmental services reachable only via its airlock from outside the ship Those precautions have long since breached.

The dogs surprised me by actually keeping their wits about them and staying on their best behavior long enough to start our tour in the engine room where they're not allowed. I'd accompanied Miccall on dozens of these tours for potential customers, new customers, and old customers bringing family or friends up to see the ship. Miccall was in his lyrical glory showing off his beloved ship and I made a point to learn his lines and stories. As I showed the Tiladore people around the ship I painted its colorful history in stories and anecdotes, only changing Miccall's first person yarns to third person, Here Captain Miccall once...'

Min attended the three officials while I paid special attention to the supercargo, Miclae Midedow. She was ex-liner cargo master who'd started out in tramp service. She'd an eye for detail and asked a number of technical questions about our equipment and procedures. Having signed aboard in my enthusiastic youth, I'd embraced cross training and fifteen years later, I knew her from bow to stern down to the make and model numbers of the fuel pumps so she didn't stump me.

I stopped in the ship's office to show Midedow my plan to stow the containers with the sleeper-pods and asked for suggestions. She offered several, but seemed satisfied we were attending to the details of the charter.

I'm sure the fit and polish of the engine room, mechanical rooms and bridge impressed Midedow, but it was the restored passenger decks that clearly impressed the other Tiladore officials. The captain-owners who'd first fitted her out for a passenger/freight liner had not spared expenses, nor had Miccall and Hawker when they set about restoring her. Above the engineering workshops the utilitarian nature of the ship disappears, the steel bulkheads are hidden behind warm white panels, divided and trimmed by wide dark wood strips. Compartments are generously sized and well-furnished and the open expanse of the awning deck never fails to impress both down-siders and spaceers with its sweeping view and size. Miccall and Vinden treated the ship more like a yacht than a tramp ship, and it shows.

I offered refreshments from the bistro, but they were on a schedule so I saw them off with a nod and smile from Miclae Midedow and another from Owner Min as she followed her guests into the Ghost.

I checked Guild records to confirm that Midedow had indeed signed on fifty years ago as a pilot in the tramp trade, moved to liners, spent thirty years working as a cargo master for the TriStar Interstellar Line before signing on with the Tiladore Commission as their supercargo a decade ago. Not that she'd struck me as a pirate, but, what did I know about pirates?

Pirates, though much less common these days, still operate, mostly by placing an agent aboard – either as crew or an animated passenger while shipping the rest of the gang as sleepers. During the passage the pirate agent disables or eliminates the crew, poisoning the air or food, revives his or her cohorts in the sleeper-pods and it's off to the deep drifts with the ship and cargo. It would easily hide a pirate band in three thousand sleeper passengers, so I needed to know for sure that the one person on board I didn't know, was as reliable.

02

Min stopped up early in the fourth watch, but didn't stay long, content with a brief conversation on the landing stage.

'We were impressed with your tour, Captain. We sign the contract tomorrow. I was confident an impromptu inspection wouldn't knock you out of orbit, but hadn't expected your showmanship.'

'I'm not quite sure that's a compliment, but I've been Miccall's understudy these last few years, and I've given a tour or two this past voyage as well. Miccall always made it a point to have any potential shipper up to see the ship, as shippers connect a well looked after ship, with a well looked after cargo. Which is likely true, and certainly in our case.'

'Well your tour cleared any doubts they may've had about chartering a tramp. I'd like you at the signing tomorrow to answer any last minute questions.'

'Right. Just give me a time and place.'

'It'll be in my office. I'll pick you up on my way down. That'll give you time to follow my first order as owner.'

'Which is?'

'Take yourself down to Star Gate Boulevard and buy a Neb-blasted captain's star for your cap,' and eyeing me critically, 'And a new uniform, and maybe some other fittings as well. I believe even tramp ship captains are not above looking like captains. At least in the tramp ships I own.'

'Aye, aye.' I said, standing to attention and saluting. And we shared a rare, easy smile.

'I'll call before I leave the 'Moon. And one more thing. The new owners of the Silvery Moon are taking delivery this coming Firstday. We've a fair amount of personal gear and provisions that must be removed before. I'm wondering if you could lend a hand to help us clear the ship this Sixthday. We'll just transfer everything to the Lost Star. I'm sure Bar and Say will welcome the provisions – my parents did not stint on flavors and potables.'

'We'll all appreciate it.'

She nodded, adding, 'We, Vyn, Ten and I, can then sign on and move aboard. Turns out to be perfect timing, with the sale of the Silvery Moon we'd have been homeless. Plus, it'll also give you a chance to meet and work with Vyn and Ten. I'm sure you'll like them.'

'I'd be delighted.' I assured her. 'When can I tell the rest of the crew about what's in the works? They were asking this morning.'

'When the contract is signed. And they'll need be told of my plans to sail to out of system. Anyone who doesn't want to go, can sign on just to Sanre-tay if they like, since they're unlikely to get a berth out of Calissant any time soon.'

'I'm sure they'll go along. Most of the old gang came out of those systems, anyway.'

'Right. I'll radio you no later than mid-morning tomorrow. Vyn and Ten are waiting for me, so I'll head out. Until tomorrow, Captain. Fair orbits.'

'Fair orbits, Owner Min.'

03

Min had the Ghost screaming down through the clouds Fourthday morning, locked onto the Yacht Club beam. It was another thick day in Primecentra and what little we saw of it was mostly darker shadows against the grey of the day.

She'd given me the address of an establishment on Star Gate not far from the office building housing Min & Co. that specialized in outfitting spaceers. I knew she wasn't kidding about upgrading the cap and my kit in general, so I had left my cap and old uniform behind and dressed in mufti, determined to look every bit the up and coming tramp ship captain for the signing.

I rode the flier taxi with Min to the roof and leaving her at the 27th floor, proceed down, out, and a block over to Star Gate Boulevard. The wide mall was once again sparsely populated. The nearest Port Prime gate was blocks away so there weren't even cheery companions to brighten the dreary scene.

Lorof & Staff has a narrow, unimpressive front on Star Gate, several blocks down. However, like many Star Gate establishments the back rooms stretch on and on, (and on) – a vast, multi-floored and seemingly endless warden of showrooms filled with everything a spaceer might need or might dream of needing. Clothing, gadgets and gear, some beyond the powers of my imagination to identify, overflowed into the narrow aisles, making navigation perilous at times. The clothing alone spread over many floors, from boots to caps, intimates to spacesuits and everything in between was stocked for sale, at the lowest prices in the known universe – but only if you could find it – which for me, meant asking the avatar sales staff for detailed navigational instructions. The dress uniform department was located in the third sub-basement, or so I was assured. I was given detailed directions involving half a dozen landmarks just to find the ramp down by a harried sales avatar. (Turn to port by the engine room tool belt display and starboard just before you reach the catering department, and down the ramp, three turns...) Eventually, after several dead ends and new directions from different sales avatars – but likely the same harried operator – I arrived at my port of call.

Lorof & Staff offers uniforms for every sex, size, rank, employment, environment, style and price. Ship climates and cultures vary as much as the planets their crews come from, so the collection is vast. In addition, they seem to anticipate serving time traveling spaceers as well – offering uniforms in styles that seemed thousands years out of date to others which I can only imagine will be in style a thousand years hence. After wandering about this archipelago of fashion for what seemed like hours, I settled on a nice understated black captain's uniform and a stiff new cap complete with a captain's star badge, plus a few crisp white shirts and couple of pale yellow sweaters just for some color. (I believe I mentioned that we're a cool climate ship.) It was a step or two up in quality from what I had been wearing, though not the equal of Min's. To this I added half a dozen other items for my wardrobe and some gadgets I stumbled upon while wandering lost and decided I needed, until, eventually, running out of hands to carry more, I began my search for the checkout station. Realizing that I was now up against the time of the meeting, I had to cut the bargaining short and closed the deal for at least five credits too much. I changed into my new uniform before I left and hurried to the meeting.

While we were waiting in her office for our clients to arrive, Min gave me a funny look. 'What do you reek of?'

'I reek? I don't reek of anything.'

She waved her hand to clear the air. 'What is that? I know it.'

I put my nose to the sleeve of my new uniform. 'Perhaps you're smelling Lorof & Staff's lingering ambiance. I can get just the faintest whiff of it. But after spending several hours in their emporium, I may've grown accustomed to it. You'll get used to it, it's a very spaceer-ish aroma. Such is the price of glorious peacock of a captain.'

'Peacock? Couldn't you have at least gotten something less than five hundred years out of date? Or are your referring to that canary yellow sweater you've added to your costume?'

I gave her a look of reproach. 'I like this uniform. You certainly can't complain about the color – black – since you wear just black, with a bit of white... And the sweater, well, it just adds the right touch of dash to an otherwise sober and understated uniform...'

'Old and out of date, and, well, very canary like. We're meeting clients and you look and smell like something out... I don't know what...'

'I'm sorry you don't approve. I didn't think you wanted me dressed up like Brilliant Pax. Next time you'll just have to come along to pick out my clothes.'

'Next time I will...'

Kardea knocked and announced the Tiladore Planetary committee, not a minute too soon.

We spent two hours going over the charter contract, each side making certain the other side knew exactly what was expected of them. Min had everything on our side well in hand. The only point I made was insisting Miclae Midedow be the supercargo, no last minute substitute. If she couldn't sail with us, we'd only accept a mutually agreed upon substitute. Min gave me a look, but I explained that for security's sake, I'd have no one aboard my ship that I didn't have complete confidence in, which, I pointed out, was in Tiladore Commission's best interest as well. They signed and we made arrangements to start loading the cargo containing boxes in ten days, with the passengers boxes a week after for a 1st of Second Spring sailing date.

Min took me (and my bundle of treasures, also reeking of Lorof & Staff) out to a Laslion island cuisine restaurant to celebrate. Afterward we boarded a flier at the taxi stand for the hop to the Yacht Club through the misty spring evening.

### Chapter 14 The Yacht Club

The fog was a cold, clinging curtain of dampness as we stepped out from the small velowalk terminal onto the tarmac. The cheery brightness of the terminal was quickly lost among the looming shapes and shadows of the boats parked in long rows that faded into the night. Except for the strings of terminals, the tarmac was vaguely lit only by the glow of the Yacht Club building far astern and the undefined brightness of the towers of Primecentra that filled half the sky to the north. A lower and vague band of light stretched around to the south – broken by the dark massifs of warehouses and hangars that lay beyond the southern edge of the Yacht Club. The Ghost was parked on the edge of tarmac, several rows of parked boats away. A two-minute walk. Min had opted for the least expensive berths. We turned up our collars and snuggled deeper in our coats, setting out at a brisk pace.

The tarmac was quiet. To the east, a flare and the faint, muffled roar of a rocket blasting off from the passenger port, and closer, on the far side of the tarmac – the sharp whistling roar of a yacht taxiing – neither did more than highlight the smothering silence. We quickly put the brightness of the velowalk terminal behind. Following a faint pedestrian walkway painted on the tarmac, we crossed a wide taxiway and into the darker space between a double row of parked yachts and snow banks. The rhythm of Min's metallic foot falls, and my own shuffling stomps seemed the last sounds left in the world. I had my exoskeleton powered on but it had been a long day in gravity. It was low on power and I was rather dragging.

The first whistle came from behind us as we started across the taxiway beyond the first row of boats. It was followed by an answering chorus of others from every direction. Min froze.

'Wharf rats,' she said quietly.

Wharf rats, a spaceer term for the assorted gangs inhabiting the security cracks and shadows of every port – packs of dock and warehouse thieves, smugglers, dealers, pimps and crimps, loan sharks and hired thugs. Stray from the bright lights of Star Gate Boulevard into the tenements beyond or into the maze of hangars, warehouses and transport hubs of Port Prime at night, and you're likely to make the acquaintance of the wharf rats. But...

'What are they doing in the Yacht Club tarmac? I'd have thought the Club would have rules against wharf rats...' I said in a low voice.

'I'd have thought so too. That's what I'm paying dues for. I'll have to have a talk with the committee. But those were certainly wharf rat calls. I suppose any security barrier can be breached. If you can breach a warehouse security system, the Club grounds might not be all that challenging. The real question is why they've run the risk of coming so far afield – so dangerously out of their dockland holes. This is not the place you'd want to steal a boat from, it can be tracked too easily. And there's little else to steal... It doesn't make any sense,' she mused, and reaching for her pocket, added, 'Let's get moving. If you have a billy-blade, get it in hand. I don't have a good feeling about this...'

'Back to the terminal. It's closest,' I pointed out as I pulled out the short, heavy, handle of my billy-blade from my jacket pocket. 'We've nothing they'd want, so I don't imagine they'd put much effort into preventing us. And may I also suggest we call club security or the Guard?'

'You can try, but I'm sure they're using jammers... Standard procedure.'

I touched my com link but heard only a loud hiss of static from my implanted speaker....

'The terminal wouldn't give us any protection, better strike out for the Ghost where we'd be sure to be safe once aboard her. It's not all that much further. And since they seem all around us, there's no avoiding them, if they decide to tackle us...'

'Right.' I said shifting and tightened my grip on my bundle of purchases, grabbing it the middle to give me something like a shield. 'But let's pile some on the gee's.'

I'd have retreated to the lighted terminal, but she's my owner and time was of the essence. And if the pack was looking for a fight, we'd not avoid one in either case.

She shook out her billy-blade and started out briskly, her long legs covering meters with every stride.

I started after her, running, activating my billy-blade, by holding the handle down to allow the D-matter metal to flow out and solidified into a prefigured form, a forward weighted, half meter long, blunt edged blade – the self-defense weapon of choice for spaceers. It's handy, effective and legal everywhere since it's (somehow) classified as non-lethal. Closed, it fits in a pocket, or in a fist if that's how you like to fight, and extended, it's a blunt edged blade of an indestructible mutated metal that can deliver bone breaking blows. Confine your blows to your opponent's arms and legs and you'll stay clear of official trouble on self-defense grounds. Using lethal (classified) weapons on the worlds of the Unity will get you surgically de-sexed and a life sentence in an unsupervised criminal preserve – usually an enclosed valley on some airless moon, commonly known as Felon's Rift – though the official name varied planet to planet.

'I don't intend to stop and gossip,' Min said as I caught up to her as we plunged into the shadows between the next line of boats. She quickly proved her point.

Two slim dark figures leaped on to the path from the shadows of the boats, bars in hand. A wharf rat's scope of operations does not justify the risks associated with a lethal weapon so they fight like spaceers with pipes, bars and billy-blades. Dressed in dark, close fitting garments, faces hidden in bands of black cloth, save their eyes and mouths, they stood braced to receive us. They whistled again and the pack responded. Min didn't hesitate. She leaped forward on one of her long, long, slim mech-legs and brought the other up with a sweeping kick landing on the jaw of the wharf rat before her, sending him sprawling, the bars he was holding flying out of his hands and landing in a clatter on the tarmac.

I followed her, half a second behind, taking the first heavy blow of my opponent's bar on my bundle next to my head as I made a low swipe for his forward knee. He tried to block it with his other club, but was off balance and my billy-blade got in crushing the side of his knee. I stumbled with the force of his blow on my bundle shield and my low swing at this knee, but recovered and leaped over his falling form, reached a second line of assailants who'd appeared a few meters beyond. Min was already engaging the three of them. Clearly she hadn't spent all her time on Kimsai meditating, and with the momentum on her side, she had already flung one to the side with a kick and a blow to his shoulder. I plunged in beside her, connecting with a blow to the arm of her second opponent, and flung my shield arm up to block a blow from the wharf rat before me.

I've been a student of Barlan Dray, a master of the Mycolmtre's sword and dagger style of fencing throughout my years aboard the ship. I found it to be an interesting way to exercise, requiring speed, reaction, anticipation, and precise control over your weapons and body, all of which came to my aid now. But a bundle is not a short blade and a billy-blade is not a long sword. The billy-blade requires sweeping motions with your body behind it to give it the heft it lacks, so there's not a lot of actual duel-blade style actions that translates into this type of fight. And, too, I'd mostly sparred with Barlan in free fall, though a rush of fear and adrenaline was doing a lot to counter the weary weight of gravity.

Even as the blow landed on the bundle, I plunged, semi-stumbling, forward, billy-blade extended to strike him in his chest. We both lurched to my right, but my momentum carried me into him, sending him to the ground while stopping my fall. I gave him a blow to the arm nearest me and leaped past him out into the taxiway.

Min spun and gave a sweeping kick to a wharf rat who had come up unnoticed behind me, sending him flying. I stumbled out into the taxiway beside her, and we started running briskly up the middle of the lane, she looping nimbly on her long legs as the wharf rats whistled signals around us in the fog. I chugged along beside her, breathing hard. Only my exoskeleton working at top speed kept me up with her and she was likely holding back. We'd perhaps a hundred yards to go to reach the Ghost, and only one more row of parked boats to cross on our left.

A dark figure half stumbled out of the fog. I gave a downward chop with my billy-blade to an extended arm and continued on without a pause. I heard his blade clatter to the tarmac behind me. Then two dark figures materialized out of the fog before us. We did not hesitate, but plunged ahead to take them, with the whistles of the pack following us.

Our early, relatively easy success was likely due to the fact that we were dealing with the younger or more stupid wharf rats. The boys and girls of the gang. Coming in contact with the two before us was an altogether different experience, these two were faster, smarter and an order of magnitude more dangerous. My opponent was a female, who easily parried my first several blows while delivering several nearly catastrophic ripostes – one I just managed to parry with my bundle and the other only just deflected with my billy-blade, nearly ripping it out of my hand. The relative lightness of my billy-blade made fencing with her solid billy club iffy, since she could muscle my blade out of line. I did, however, have more body mass to put behind my light weapon than she had behind her heavier billy club plus I could move my weapon a little faster and with just enough force to counter her club.

Our weapons clanged back and forth for several seconds, but the longer we battled, the more time the pack had to come up on us from behind. I sought desperately, but ineffectively, to get past her, but she did it for me. I fell for a high feint on my left side and could not get my bundle down in time to block her low blow to the side of my left knee. It should have taken me down with a smashed leg, but her billy club hit the exoskeleton rib running along the outside of my leg with a clang, sending my legs sliding out from under me, the leg numb, but unbroken. My response was already underway as she struck her blow. I swept down with my billy-blade at her low arm as it struck my leg, momentarily trapping it against my leg, my half fall giving it even more force. The blow likely smashed her wrist, sending her billy bouncing to the tarmac as I ended up on my knees, stunned. She, in shearing pain, dropped her other billy that had been poised over her head to deliver her final blow and collapsed to the ground before me.

I saw Min connect a flying kick to her opponents outstretched arm, spinning him around and continued the spin, delivering a crunching billy-blade blow to his shoulder sending him flailing to the ground. She gave me a wild glance and breathlessly pointed to the darkness between the two parked boats to our left. I nodded. She turned and bounded for the gap. I scrambled to my feet and followed. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see more of the pack emerge out of the fog not ten meters away.

We plunged into the shadow. A leap took Min over the snow bank between the two rows of boats. Two figures stepped out from the shadows of the boats beyond the taxiway – slim dark silhouettes against the brighter fog of the taxiway. One of the silhouettes raised an arm and aiming the faint blue projection beam of a darter at Min and snapped off three double shots, as fast as the darter could charge the dart.

Min's slim body was outlined in a bright blue electric storm of light as the plasma darts struck her and exploded, rapidly, one after the other. Her body twisted, collapsing backward into the snow bank. The figure briefly watched her fall, turned to me, standing, frozen in shock. The darter's faint projection beam swung to me, brightening as it crossed my eyes to come to rest on my forehead even as the second silhouette reacted, who, like me, must have been frozen in shock.

Blue light. Very bright. Very hot. Then nothing.

### Chapter 15 The Ghosts

My face was in the snow. I couldn't have been out for long – the blue flashes were still etched in my retinas. I gathered my wits and strength, pushed myself up to my knees, and looked around. My harsh breathing was loud in the muffled silence. I appeared to be alone, the wharf rats were at least hidden by the fog, perhaps watching from the shadows. Not that I could do anything about that.

I knelt in the cold snowbank, deep in the darkness between the two boats. Ahead, the lighter grey of the taxi lane. I looked back, my battered package, our billy-blades and my smoldering cap lay scattered across the wet pavement behind me. Min was a sprawled shape in the sooty snowbank two meters to my right. A curl of steam drifting up from her outstretched arm where the last plasma dart had struck her. I tried to stand, but my exoskeleton motors were dead. It was easier to crawl over to her. She was lying twisted in the snowbank. Not moving. I pulled her over, face up, her legs clanking together as her body dragged one over the other. Steam and smoke rose from the two black holes in her jacket where the other plasma darts struck her.

Bloody. Blasted. Neb. Her eyes were open, but unseeing. She was perfectly still.

I've only been in a few brief downside brawls, never a plasma darter fight. I know plasma darts – basically tiny super-capacitors projected by a drive beam, come in various sizes and could be charged in a range of energy levels from stun to non-revivable lethal, but I've only seen them in fiction vids. Still, from the intense blue fireworks the darts produced when they hit her and discharged their electrical charge, I had to believe they were lethal. I was alive only because the darts aimed for me flew high, hitting my cap's badge, carrying off the cap to break contact with me a split second before it discharged its immense store of electrical energy. Even so, it had stunned me in the blast. But Min had been hit squarely, six times. I stared at her pale face and dead eyes. Think, Wil, think.

I touched my com link, but it was dead. Useless. Likely fried in the plasma burst. I'd have to summon help from the boat.

I glanced around. Still no activity, no alarm – just smothering stillness. The wharf rats must've fled, since by using the darter in the attack, everyone involved was now liable to be neutered and sent to Felon's Rift. Luckily, for me, anyway, they didn't stay to make sure I was dead.

I edged closer to Min, braced myself, lifted her body from the snowbank and arranged it the best I could over my shoulder, seeking the best balance. Then, with a rush of breathless curses, I managed to get my feet under me and lurch upwards. Standing, I swayed as I sought to get my balance, and staggered into the fog towards the Ghost before I could collapsed again. She was slightly built and with her artificial legs, weighed little enough for someone used to gravity, but I'd spent the last two decades mostly in space, where weightlessness to .3gee was the norm. My heart was pounding, each step demanded a deliberate effort as I stumped and staggered down the taxiway in a world of grey shapes, muffled footfalls and that thumping in my chest. I thought I'd never make the Ghost without stopping to rest but, there it was, its pale form looming before me. I stopped, braced myself and swore.

'Blast and Blood! Neb Damn!'

I hadn't the key tab, of course. Min had it. Somewhere. And it may only be keyed to her microchip id.

'Damn, damn, bloody damn,' I ranted as I dropped to one knee and let her body slip down, her legs clinking on the pavement. I held the back of her head as I laid it down on the wet pavement and searched for her coat pockets for the ship's key tab. Nothing. I ripped open the mag-tabs of her scorched coat and laid it open. I hesitated. It didn't seem right, but it must be in the pockets of her black jacket or vest. I reached down, and pushed her body a little to get to the jacket pocket.

'Other one. Left handed.'

I reared back. 'Blast!' It had been faint and husky, but I hadn't said it. 'Min?' I leaned back over her. 'Min?'

Her eyes were closed, now. Her lips slightly parted, I seemed to sense more than see a faint movement in her chest.

Faintly, her lips barely moved. 'Left pocket. Get it.'

'Right. Of course,' I muttered, or some such thing. I kissed her quickly on her forehead before I reached for her left pocket, carefully moving her to reach it. I found the tab and pulled it out.

'Will it work for me?'

She moved her head ever so slightly, 'no'. 'Put it in my left hand.'

I fumbled with it to get it in the right position for her finger to touch the key button and put it in her hand, and closed my hand around hers. I felt her move her finger, and a thin line of light appeared in the hull of the Ghost as the boarding ladder began swinging down. I put the key tab in my pocket and slipped one hand under her head and another under her back to lift her to my chest. The boarding hatch was narrow, so I lifted her over my shoulder again and with several more curses, managed to get back on my feet.

Each step, a mountain to climb, but I reached the boat's deck and hit the button to close the hatch and looked around the small main compartment. There was a small seating area aft with two built-in settees to which I carried Min. I dropped down next to it. She was able to hold on to me as I lifted her legs on to the cushions and laid her down.

'The medic kit is in the after bulkhead,' she whispered.

I got up, found the compartment, released the box and stumbled back. I pushed up the sleeve of her coat and opening the medic kit, attached the sensor/treatment band to her wrist and activated the machine and held her hand to keep it steady. I watched the dial as it jumped to critical red, and as the sensor readings began to be analyzed and treatments began to be transmitted into her system, it settled into amber and down to a non-critical yellow, the display listing a running series of reports and treatments it was administering. I could feel some of its healing fields through my hand. I didn't pay much attention, most of it was beyond my limited medical knowledge. The color was all that mattered to me, and according to that, Min was somehow alive, and somehow, seemingly, not in great danger.

I reached over and drew her coat over her. 'It's non-critical yellow. I think you should be okay... But I'll just go forward for a second and call the medic service... and the Guards.'

She shook her head 'no' without opening her eyes and shifted her grip to hold my hand.

'Is there anything I need to do?' I asked, alarmed, afraid the reading was wrong.

She shook her head 'no' again, and said quietly, 'I'm feeling better. Just stay and let me think.'

'Of course,' I said watching her closely. She was breathing fully now, and the medic kit had everything under control. It seemed like I should be doing more than holding her hand, but I couldn't think of anything else to do besides calling the Guard, and well, she held my hand tightly. I suppose the Guard could wait. Some of the wharf rats wouldn't be moving too fast.

I knelt beside the settee and watched the dial as it slowly turned to green over the course of perhaps a dozen minutes. At last I asked, 'Are you alright, Tallith?'

She opened her eyes. 'Yes.' Letting go of my hand and drawing a deep breath, she gingerly pushed herself into a shallow sitting position against an arm rest. 'But I believe my legs are out of commission, once again. So would you please go forward, tune the radio to the yacht club control frequency and set it to record. We don't need to listen to it now.'

'Right. And I'll alert the Guards. I doubt some of those wharf rats will've made cover just yet,' I said, heaving myself to my feet.

'No. Don't radio anyone. Just do what I asked.'

'But the Guard should be alerted. We shouldn't give them too much time,' I protested.

'Is this what I'm to expect from you when I give an order?' she asked softly, but with an edge. I realized I needed to take her question, and its implication very seriously.

'Sorry. I thought that would've been the next step. I've been a tin god for six months now, and it seemed to be the next move...'

She shook her head. 'Do as I say, I'll explain.'

I did as ordered, and returned to collapse onto the settee opposite hers. 'So why not?"

'The wharf rats don't count,' she said slowly. 'They're only involved to muddy the waters and to take the rap when our bodies were discovered. The assassin wasn't a wharf rat and certainly didn't need their help to kill me. The assassin just dragged the wharf rats along as a distraction – a false trail to give him or her time to slip away – off planet and likely back to the drifts. I think we punished the wharf rats enough. Sending them to Felon's Rift seems unnecessary. Do you agree, Captain?'

I considered her question for a moment, replaying the final scene.

'Aye, let them go... I likely owe my life to one of them. I'd be dead if that other fellow hadn't tried to stop the darter. He or she must have knocked the assassin's arm just enough to make the dart fly a bit high and strike the emblem on my cap. But that probably wasn't clear in the discharge flash. It must've looked like I was hit since I went down right enough.'

She gave me an unreadable look and closed her eyes for a moment before continuing, 'This was a professional operation. I'm certain the assassin has an escape plan in place, and it probably leads off planet. He or she may even have a boat waiting here at the yacht club, which is why I want a radio record of boats leaving. As for the Guards, well, think about it.

'Right now we're dead in a snow bank and unlikely to be found until tomorrow, at the earliest. It could be several days – we're parked on the unfashionable and unfrequented fringe of the tarmac. So unless we give ourselves away by calling the Guard or taking off, the assassin will escape thinking I'm – we're – dead. Being considered dead means that I'm safe from further attempts until they come to realize I'm not dead. The longer I'm dead, the more time I have to act without them knowing about it. Our assassin, confident that dead men tell no tales, may've left a trail that I might be able to pick up...' She paused, lost in thought.

Looking across on her pale, soot streaked face and wild, disordered hair, it suddenly struck me that she should really be dead. 'How is it you're alive? Surely those were not stun level darts.'

She looked up at me and may have even smiled a little, 'I'm sure they weren't. But luckily, I frighten easy. Having barely survived one assassination attempt already, and with Uncle Hawk strongly hinting that I might still be in danger, I took precautions.' She lifted the front of her coat so that I could see how it had been penetrated by two darts. 'My coat has several different D-matter layers in the lining making it dart resistant and plasma insulated, as does my pelisse and blouse. I wasn't taking chances, and it paid off. It looks like several of the darts actually make it through my coat and pelisse, but not my blouse. The ones that hit my coat arm were off line to my arm. It's standard practice to launch both armor penetrating and non-penetrating darts to make certain of the desired results, since armor penetrating darts tend to go through an unarmored body without discharging. Only the fact that I had three layers of dart resistance clothing, prevented the darts from reaching my body before discharging. You needed 4mm gauge darts to penetrate all three armored layers. Still, with all that electric plasma discharging in such close proximity, it shocked and paralyzed my nervous system and short circuited the motors in my expensive legs.'

'I thought you were dead. Your eyes were open and you didn't seem to be breathing...'

'Near enough. Being bounced about on your shoulder as you carried me likely jogged my stunned heart and lungs into working again. In any event, my nervous system was not fried as it would've been if the darts had fully penetrated...' She shrugged.

I stared at her with growing alarm. 'Why would anyone shoot you in the first place? Who wants you dead?'

She shrugged. 'That, I don't know. I just know they do. Now.'

'But Tallith, you must have some idea. If this isn't just some crazy wharf rat antics, we need to find out who and why... You can't just...'

She held up a hand. 'All in good time, Captain. What I need at the moment is a set of working legs. I keep a spare pair in the storage section under the settee behind you. Would you be so kind as get them? Unless you want to carry me around,' she added with a grin.

I tried to grin back, but I was too upset to make a very credible effort. 'Right.'

She sat up as I hauled out the box. 'Put it next to me here,' she said indicating the cushion next to her.

'Do you need help?' I asked, without thinking.

She glanced down at her short skirt and back up to me with a mockingly innocent look. 'Thank you, but I think I can manage, Captain. What I could use is a cup of cha. There should be some in the galley. Take your time brewing it. You might want to wait until I come to fetch it.'

'Right. Of course,' I said, blushing, and hurried the few steps to the compact galley, sliding the door-panel shut behind me.

I found the cha, added the leaves to two clearsteel mugs and absently screwed on their covers without thinking. It annoyed me that the cha canister, spoon and mugs all shook when I handled them. I cursed softly under by breath. Fortunately, I wasn't in a hurry. I carefully filled them with boiling water from the faucet and while I watched the cha brew I tried to get my hands and racing heart under control. It was just the aftershock, I assured myself. Still, I sensed – on the edge of my conscientiousness – that my master plan for my life was spinning out of control. Damn, and blast... What was I getting myself into? I was still watching the leaves unfold in the subtle currents when the galley door-panel slid open and Min looked in, slight and slim, rather disheveled, but calm and collected.

She seemed subtly different. I tried to place the change – she was shorter now. And her legs looked real.

She noticed my confusion and smiled rather sadly. 'This pair was made to duplicate my original ones. I decided that since I was given a choice, I'd rather be taller.'

That wasn't it. Not entirely, but I put it out of mind. 'Are you really alright, Tallith? Is there anything I can do? I feel that I should be doing more than making a mug of cha.'

'I'm fine, Wil, and I could really use a cup of cha. How are you doing?'

'Oh, I'm fine, more or less. Thinking about it seems harder than just doing it. I guess I've not lived a life where I'm attacked by wharf rats and darted on a regular basis. I thought those things only happened to Brilliant Pax or in the yarns of the Four Shipmates...'

She gave me a serious look, 'I'm sorry Wil. I'm afraid that tonight you may've been drawn into the yarns of the Four Shipmates. I'm all but certain the chain of cause and effect leads back to them... I'm sorry you're involved. It's none of your concern. If I'd have known just how immediate the risk was, I'd have never come back to Calissant.'

I stared at her. 'Do you really think so? About it going back to the Four Shipmates.'

'I've come to believe that they were running for their lives for decades before they came to Calissant. Uncle Hawk seemed to hint so when he visited me on Kimsai, but we – my brother Jelter and I – had come to suspect something along those lines even before his visit. After tonight there's simply no doubt. It would seem that the Four Shipmate's enemies have caught up to them and killed my parents, and perhaps Uncle Hawk and Captain Miccall as well... And they want to kill me too.'

'Who? And Why?'

She shrugged. 'I don't know... It was their secret. Uncle Hawk wasn't prepared to tell me, even with the death of his old shipmates. I'm sure he suspected they'd been killed, but still would tell us nothing. He simply urged me to stay on Kimsai until he came for me. But he died. And well, I wasn't about to stay on Kimsai my whole life.'

'Why?' I muttered again, not sure of just what I was asking her.

She said nothing for a long moment and said. 'It's complicated. I'll tell you what I know. I owe you my life, so I owe you that much. But first I think we can risk a pulse transmission to the Lost Star and Silvery Moon so our shipmates don't get concerned when we don't show up tonight.'

### Chapter 16 The Four Shipmates

'Dyn, it's Wil. I'm staying downside tonight. I won't be up before the third or fourth watch. If you need a backup, go with Ginger. I'd not trust either Astro or Orbit with the ship. Fair orbits,' I said. I set the message up to be compressed and sent on a narrow laser link when the Lost Star's orbit brought it within line of sight. It'd be indistinguishable from a standard tracking blip. I nodded to Min next to me in the pilot's seat of the Ghost.

She switched on the camera before her and recorded her message. 'Vyn, Tenry, don't wait up for me tonight. We've a few loose ends to tie up tomorrow. Wil...' here she turned and gave me a sidelong glance with smile, '... and I will stay aboard the Ghost tonight. See you sometime tomorrow. 'Night.' She signed off and hit stop.

'Why did you do that?' I asked, mildly alarmed.

'Do what?' she asked with another sidelong glance and a smile.

'You know – you just did again... What are they going to think?' Given her rather disheveled appearance, her hair undone and tie loose, jacket off, I could readily imagine what they might think.

'Oh, you needn't worry, Captain Litang,' she said with mock tartness.

'I'm not. Not exactly. But why risk giving them a false impression?'

'Because they know me too well for me to get away with a lie. I can't tell them the truth – they doubled as our security detail and felt they'd failed when my parents were killed. Never mind that they were aboard the Silvery Moon in transit to Yendora orbit at the time. If they knew what happened tonight, I'd never be able to go anywhere alone again, which is not acceptable. So if I must lie I had to give them a different lie. One I doubt they'll feel comfortable pursuing.'

'I suppose... ' I shrugged, and added with my own sidelong glance. 'Though I'd think a more likely lie could be found, if you really needed one.'

'Any suggestions? I haven't sent it yet.' she replied archly. 'Give me a believable reason why I couldn't return to the 'Moon like I've done every day since my return.'

I just looked at her. 'Are you saying you've given them a believable reason?'

She considered that for a moment and broke out laughing. 'An excellent point! But the point is, believed or not, they'll not ask about tonight. Which is all I want,' and adding after a pause, 'I'm sure they'll be discrete, but if you really mind, I'll re-do it.'

'No. I was just being my usual cautious self. Doesn't matter. It'll confuse 'em when they see us together, though I hope we're becoming less wary of each other,' I ventured.

'We're shipmates. Whatever else that comes along will be in that context.'

'Shipmates it is. And I have to say, mate, we did alright tonight.'

'Yes, we did. They had to run bloody hard to catch us!' she laughed.

'I doubt it, I was only lumbering along,' I said. 'Still, I suspect they regretted catching us. That, in any case will be my story – when I can tell it. Send your message and let's get comfortable. I want to hear your yarn.'

'Oh, Captain! Yes, let's get comfortable,' she laughed sarcastically hit the send button and slipped into the main cabin.

I followed her out. There seems to be a certain carefree joy in living after someone tries, and fails, to kill you. We both were feeling it. Still, however fond of Tallith Min I was feeling, I wasn't feeling foolish. We'd sealed a partnership – running the Lost Star with mutual confidence in each other. We'd become shipmates, a relationship that transcends even friendship. But there are limits and she was watching me carefully to see that I understood them. I'd no intention of giving her the opportunity to spell them out.

She settled once more on the settee, drawing a blanket over her spare legs. Though this pair looked real from a distance, she considered them 'ugly'. I settled into the matching settee across the narrow aisle.

'As you know,' she began after taking a sip of cha from the mug she'd left on the shelf next to her, 'My parents were killed when a space boat – piloted by a dead man. The dead man's boat struck our boat in route from the Silvery Moon to our country estate. The odds that an uncontrolled space boat could strike another boat are astronomical. And when you consider the fact that the supposedly uncontrolled boat changed course three times in order to hit us, you can see we're well beyond any possibility of it being pure chance.'

'Three course changes! How could that have been overlooked during the inquest?'

She shrugged. 'Air turbulence according to the report, based on incomplete data. The black boxes somehow did not survive the collision intact and the data was corrupted. And well, with the other pilot and my parents dead, and I expected to die shortly, the inquest was rather superficial.

'Anyway, I was at the controls heading down for our country home when the automatic alert sounded, and the boat made its automatic evasive maneuver to avoid the out of control boat – a normal and usually effective response to avoid a crash. The other boat made its first course alteration, bringing it back on collision course and forcing our boat to make a second evasive maneuver. My boat was fully operational and I let it make its programmed maneuvers – again, the standard operating procedure since the boat's AI reacts faster than a human pilot. We're talking about maneuvers only seconds apart. The other once again changed course just as my boat began its avoidance maneuver, as if it was pre-programed to react to the standard avoidance maneuver. Desperate to avoid a crash, I banked my boat sharply, in the hope that we'd present a smaller target. It proved to be the wrong maneuver, as the plunging boat struck the upper hull of the passenger compartment, shearing much of it off and killing my parents instantly. Still, enough of the boat was left intact that I managed to remain conscious long enough to crash land on an island beach five minutes away, though it left me pretty much dead as well. I didn't regain consciousness until four months later, on Kimsai, where Vyn and Ten had brought me in a suspended animation box aboard the Silvery Moon. By that time the inquest was over with the suggestion that my final maneuver had nullified the space boat's automatic evasion which resulted in the crash.' She paused. 'Pilot error.'

'But how'd they come to that conclusion? Even without the black boxes, all flights are tracked on radar.'

'Not as detailed as would be needed to determine the sequence of the last two maneuvers. And so with the black boxes mostly destroyed despite the fact that I landed the boat, it could not be determined precisely what happened in those final seconds. And since I was unable to speak at the inquest, expected to die, and with everyone else involved dead, they didn't think it worth the effort to keep the inquest open that I might speak.'

'Did you register an objection when you returned?'

She shrugged. 'I didn't think it mattered. Now, when it clearly does, I need to stay dead for as long as possible. Since the other pilot apparently died in space, the Patrol has an interest in the incident, and though they deferred to planetary investigation because the boats collided within the atmosphere. However, Vyn tells me that the Patrol has flagged the incident as an open case, but won't investigate further unless something new turns up.'

'And you don't think tonight qualifies as something new? If you don't want to bring in the Guard, why not alert the Patrol?'

She stared off into space for several moments before turning to me, 'Tonight's incident is strictly a Guard affair, and, I find, I'm taking the whole affair very personally. I don't want the Patrol involved, at least not until I know a whole lot more about what's going on and what's behind it. I don't know what my parents were involved in, and I don't want go to the Patrol until I do. After all, the Shipmates didn't run to the Patrol. I need to know what this is all about before going to the authorities.'

I could see in her eyes that I wasn't going to change her mind, so I tried a different track, 'What about the other pilot? The dead one? What did the inquest determine happened to him?'

'He seems to have been a sales representative for a rocket boat parts supplier from Sanre-tay. He had the boat equipped with the parts he was selling. He took a client from a Yendora based shipbuilding firm out for a demonstration, returned, dropped him off and took off for Port Prime only to end up crashing into our boat. Very little of his body was recovered from the crash. He was presumed to have either lost consciousness or died during the flight back to Port Prime. Hard to believe, but strange things happen. I'm having people look into this sales rep, but don't expect much. I can think of several ways they could have rigged it, but I'll likely never be able to prove anything.'

'Well, it's impossible not to believe it was deliberate,' I said. 'Not after tonight. I'll defer to your judgment, Tallith, but I think that by not alerting the Patrol you're missing the chance not only to find out more, but to bring the killers to justice.'

She shook her head "No". 'There are too many unanswered questions involving my parents and Uncle Hawk. For all I know, they may've been pirates, smugglers, who knows what? I think it's best left as a private affair for now.'

'So, what exactly do you know about it? About why?'

'Very little, and most of it guesswork. First, I can't imagine anyone from their life on Calissant had any motivation to murder them, so it must be out of the Four Shipmates era,' she said. 'Given their yarns, that's not a great stretch. Plus, with this experience behind me, I can now see what Uncle Hawk was afraid of when he advised me to stay on Kimsai.'

'It would be in keeping with the thrust of their yarns,' I admitted.

'All four of the Shipmates have died within the last two years.' she said quietly. 'Miccall's death seems natural, a result of a long running heart problem. Uncle Hawk's accident would seem rather suspicious since he'd been racing needle rockets for fifty years, but there seems to be no way the rocket could have been sabotaged.'

(Captain Vinden raced needle rockets, small powerful plasma-electric rockets. He'd raced that day and was working on his ship in his yacht's hangar when it exploded, killing him. He'd been working alone and the needle rocket had been brought in directly from the race to the ship's hangar. And the only people on board were his ship's crew, all of whom had worked for him for decades. The chances of foul play seemed nil.)

'But my parent's deaths had to have been a carefully planned murder.'

'Being ambushed and left for dead tonight, eliminates any doubt.'

'Aye. It seems that their enemies finally found them and went about killing them,' said Min. 'I believe Uncle Hawk must've realized that. I saw him only one time after the crash. He seemed anxious and on edge, beaten down, and old. Both my brother Jelter and I asked him about his and my parents' past, but he still refused to say anything about it beyond reciting the old tales.'

'I have to say Captain Miccall was never the same after learning about your parents' deaths either. Thinking back now, it seems that it was just after we heard the news that his health or his spirit began to decline and he started handing more and more of his duties off to me. A great deal of life had gone out of him, though I never made the connection. Yet neither Miccall nor Vinden made any real effort to change their lives. They could've disappeared again.'

'Perhaps they'd run as far as they cared too, or perhaps whatever – or whoever – they'd been trying to protect no longer mattered...' she mused.

'I had a great deal of time on Kimsai to think,' she continued. 'I was confined to and dependent on a recovery chamber for six months as the med-unit grew and replaced my damaged internal organs. In that time I turned the tales Uncle Hawk told over and over in my head and compared them with the yarns Jelter – a decade older than I – had heard growing up. We came up with a list of more than a hundred tales, but soon came to realized that many of the yarns were just altered versions of the same core stories, mutineers became pirates or revolutionaries, planets and star systems changed names, ships, times and sequences were altered to produce different yarns. But if you distilled their stories, eliminating the repetition and variations – and looked for a consistent theme, paying close attention to the incidental details, like whether my parents were married or just courting and such, you can arrange the yarns into two eras. The first set, a narrative of daring efforts to reverse an injustice, a theft or a political revolution. The second shifts to years and years on the run from powerful enemies, one close call after another. And then, a big gap before settling down on Calissant and the life we know them by.'

'I can easily believe you. When I saw them together, there was something more to them than I could put my finger on. Something tied them together. And there's always certain yarns that struck you as far more likely than many of the others. Do you have any clue as to who or what they were running from? Did Captain Vinden give you any hints at all when he visited? He had to have known it was murder once he heard your story.'

'He only warned me that – for reasons he'd not say – my parents might've been killed and that I might find myself a target as well. He wanted me just to stay on Kimsai where I'd be safe until he'd come for me. He'd not tell me anymore than that. It'd have been nice if he had,' she said with a shrug. 'I suppose he didn't want to encourage me to do anything on my own.'

'In any event, Jel and I came to several conclusions. First, we came to believe that my mother is central to the mystery, since kidnapping or assassinating her is a common thread in the yarns. We believe it's either a political affair out of some moon or drift planet because the revolutionaries often appear in the tales as villains, or a primitive blood feud with political overtones. Jel's certain my mother was the rightful ruler of a drift world or a moon, and her eldest daughter would inherit her title. In order to extinguish this line, the revolutionaries spent decades tracking her down to kill her and her heirs as well. Jel feels it's significant that my mother's eldest daughter, my sister Olaeytha, should have been put out of reach for the better part of three hundred years in the Outbound Survey. He believes Olaeytha may know more, or at least, may have been told something of the story before she left on her mission. He seems to recall a vague notion of something going on before she left on the mission. I was just a baby and he just a young boy so we can't say for certain.'

'But that doesn't explain tonight. You may've been incidental in the boat crash, but tonight, you were the target. Your older sister would, if Jel's theory is right, be the rightful heir, not you.'

'They may fear I'd return in my sister's place. If you've invested a century tracking someone across the eight stars you're not likely to let a little loose end like me dangling, are you?'

'It's hard for me to imagine anyone, or any organization going to such great length and expense to track down someone so far removed from the events.'

'But, you see, they can't be sure of what I know. I might know enough to be able to return to lead a counter revolution or extract revenge, should it be a blood feud. They can hardly take the chance that I don't know. And I may, indeed, have one clue.'

'A clue as to what's going on?'

'I'm afraid it's not that definite. Still, it suggests that Jel is not wrong about my mother...'

'How so?'

'First, you have to understand that the Taoists adepts of the Peaks and Valleys come from every planet, moon and rock in the Nine Star Nebula, so that it's not too unlikely that one of the adepts would be from the moon or drift world where all this started. However, given the extent of the Peaks and Valleys and the nature of the adepts, it'd be unlikely to cross orbits with one. Yet, late one afternoon, six months ago, I was working in the garden of Jel's hermitage when an old traveling master happened by. He walked over to greet me and when I looked up he gave a sudden start. He exclaimed something like Ossera before he quickly regained his composure and restored his serene face. He introduced himself as Floating Cloud Hermit. I, of course, invited him to remain with us for the night since it was getting late. He hesitated, but in the end, agreed to stay, and over our meal we talked of this and that, Jel explaining to Floating Cloud how I came to be on Kimsai. I, of course, knew his reaction to seeing me, so I was able to follow Floating Cloud's subtle questions concerning our parents and family history, which, as far as we know, goes only back to Calissant where our parents recorded their official entry into the Unity from the Drifts of Helgot. He stayed the night, but as he left with the first light the next morning, he gravely advised me to follow the Way and remain on Kimsai, so that I might live out my appointed days in peace and harmony. It was a subtle, but sincere warning. Jel, of course missed the import of that comment, until I told him of my first encounter. I'm convinced that he knew me. Or rather, not me, but of someone I reminded him of. Likely my mother or even grandmother in their youth, for Uncle Hawk remarked on several occasions how I looked so much like Mother when she was my age. I believe at first sight, he saw my youthful mother in me and called me Ossera, either her real name or her title.'

'Then he'd know where your mother came from, and presumably where those who would kill you come from too, given his subtle warning! If you could find him and convince him to tell you... '

'Exactly. But of course, it's not that simple. Finding a wandering adept like the Floating Cloud Hermit in the Peaks and Valleys is impossible unless he wishes to be found. And when you consider that he had a chance to tell us, but instead, sincerely advised me to stay, I doubt it's a practical option. However, his appearance does provide two hints. First, like Uncle Hawk, he advised me to simply stay hidden, which suggest that what the Four Shipmates, and now I, are up against is something too powerful to challenge. Secondly, he unintentionally gave me a hint as to where to look, if I cared too...'

'Because you know where this Floating Cloud Hermit originally came from?'

'Exactly. He is said to come from somewhere in the Alantzia System, but no one seems to know more than that. He's been on Kimsai for well over a half a century, so that many of those who may've known him in his early years are now very old or have traveled on. Still, I believe I know where to look if I care to ignore their advice. Really, something this uncivilized could have only come out of either the deep drifts or the Alantzia. And it seems to be something bigger than a drift feud.'

I sighed. Yes, of course it had to be the Alantzia system – the farthest star, nestled deep in the drifts. Alantzia is part of the Unity Charter, but as the most distant star in the Nebula and surrounded by drifts, it is said that even its planets wear that cloak lightly. One could imagine bloody revolutions or blood feuds occurring on Alantzia system many minor-planets, moons, and rocks, or likely as not, on one if its major planets as well. The Patrol keeps space mostly clear of pirates and guarantees honest trade, but beyond that, it is said that you're pretty much on your own, the planets very much like our moons or even the drifts themselves. If the core of the Four Shipmates' yarns revolve around some sort of political intrigue – given the scope of them – the Alantzia system would be a far the most likely place for revolution or feuds to occur other than a drift planet or moon in the drifts.

'That sounds right – though all I know about Alantzia comes from spaceer yarns and fiction,' I said, cautiously. 'Where ever they come from, they were too powerful to resist. And still he'd not bring himself to tell you who or what to hide from. That seems strange to me.'

'I imagine he kept it vague in order to prevent me from running off and looking on my own. I don't actually need to know who I'm hiding from. I just need to get lost. Deeper than they did. I suspect that by not giving me anything specific to go by, he hoped I'd have no choice. What he didn't know was how much Jel and I would discover on our own.'

I carefully considered what I wanted to say next. She was not asking for my advice and I had promised myself to give it only when and if she asked. Here was a test.

'I see why you'd want to leave them with the impression they killed you. Hopefully we can keep them in the dark until after we sail, and ideally, after we leave the system,' I said as casually as I could.

'We've a good chance of that, if we're careful. Neither of us are important people. I assure you that if two bodies showed up murdered on the Yacht Club tarmac, one a casual member and the other an off-world spaceer, they'd make sure it was hushed up. Only the Guard would ever know about it. The assassin will have no reason to suspect anything in the lack of information about our fate. I've already transferred the Lost Star to the holding company so my name no longer appears as owner. Finding my connection to the ship would involve some deep digging which they'd have no reason to do if I was dead. So yes, we've a good chance staying dead. Still, we'll never know for certain, so we must never assume they think I'm dead. Even so, if we can fool them only long enough for the assassin to get off planet, we can continue with our plans and get out of system before another attempt can be made.'

'Right. And really, if you think about it, there's no reason why we couldn't jump out of system right from Tiladore. If we left without a cargo, there'd be no need to list a destination which could be traced via the shipping intelligence posts. And with the Tiladore charter we can afford to sail hollow and still be in fair shape at the far end.'

'Something to consider,' she said, adding with a faint smile, 'Though as owner, I'd rather have a cargo outbound. We're going to need to show a profit no matter what we decide to do.'

'I don't know how to alter log records or change ship's names and registrations, but I suspect your Vyn and Tenry with their Patrol experience can help us there. We could make a few non-Guild voyages within the drifts together with a name change or two and we'd put them years behind us once again. At the very least, we'd be in a position to pursue our inquiry without having to look back over our shoulder for quite a while.'

She said nothing, lost in thought, so I continued, 'There's no safer place in the Nebula than aboard the Lost Star. There's not much that can harm a space ship even if they identified us. We'll just have to be careful downside for a while until we've had time to hide our tracks.'

'We don't know who's looking for me,' she said. 'or how widespread their agents might be... It takes more than a name change to hide a ship, especially one you've been tracking for nearly a century. And, well, we know nothing about the drifts or who to trust. I'll have to think about it. But not tonight. I seem to be running out of whatever the medic unit gave me to revive me, so I think I'll hook myself up again and see if I can get some rest. The forward seats fold down into beds, blankets can be found in the drawer under your settee...'

'Is there anything else I can do?' I asked. I could see she was now getting tired and I could sense that the future was not something she was prepared to think about, or at least talk to me about just yet.

She shook her head No. 'I'm just sore and tired. A night's rest will fix me up.'

'Tallith.'

She looked across the narrow compartment at me.

'I, well I just want you to know, you're not facing this alone. I know that I'm just a bit player, someone in the wrong place at the wrong time, but they tried to kill me too. I've a personal stake in this. I want to be a part of what you decide to do,' I said, compelled by loyalty and concern, while at the same time, regretting the necessity. Still I knew that if I didn't say anything now, I'd regret it far more. 'Plus, I'm sure I speak for the whole crew when I say, we'll stand by you and do what it takes to keep you safe. I'm sure we can keep you safe.'

'Thank you, Wil. I appreciate your concern, but I've not given any thought beyond playing dead until we sail. We'll have time after we sail to consider what needs to be done...'

'I stand by what I said, Tallith. It's more than concern. I'm in, like it or not. But as you say, we'll have plenty of time to hammer out our plans, so if there's anything I can do now, just order me about...'

### Chapter 17 Departing Calissant

01

Secondday 19 Firstspring

Wil Litang, Captain, Lost Star

Dear Captain Litang,

I regret I was unable to reach you before my departure.

As you know, I dined with Captain Sylviar and my old shipmates this evening. During the evening the possibility of sailing as a guest aboard the Aurora to Sanre-tay came up. It struck me as offering a priceless opportunity to get a jump on securing outbound cargoes for the Lost Star. I accepted Captain Sylviar's offer and with the Aurora sailing within hours I won't have a chance to inform you of this in person.

Happily, I employ a captain I completely trust. I believe I'm leaving nothing requiring an owner's authorization. Feel free to make any operational decisions. Should any issue arise that you feel is not within your scope, consult with Phylea Kardea and follow her advice. If something serious should arise that neither you nor Kardea feel comfortable dealing with, I can be reached via Min & Co.'s associated agent, Vix Fange & Co, upon my arrival in Sanre-tay

I'll await your arrival around the 4th week of (Calissant) Secondspring.

Fair orbits,

Tallith Min

Her second message read,

Wil,

Sorry. Owner's prerogative. The chartered yacht Azure Night left Calissant orbit for Sanre-tay early in the morning of last Fifthday, (Primecentra time) shortly after its gig returned from the Small Craft Field at Barque-nela, (four hours away from Primecentra via levatrain). Port records show the same Azure Night left Calissant orbit less than a day after a space boat crash over the Trimeta Sea some 27 months ago.

The Aurora should arrive before or very soon after the Azure Night. If you can find any further information on Azure Night's travels and her charter before you leave, please forward it to me. You can reach me via Vix. Thank you. See you in Sanre-tay orbit.

Tallith

P.S. Can you stay angry for a month?

I stared at the messages glowing faintly on my desktop and sighed. Owners can do as they damn well please. The sooner you resign yourself to that fact and that you're employed to humor their whims and shoulder the blame when those whims hit an asteroid, the sooner you can find your comfort in drink.

I wasn't angry. I should have been and was embarrassed that I wasn't. But mostly I was just sad.

We hadn't a chance to talk about our future course of action. She'd reverted to her old guarded self the next day. That's not quite right. There is a difference. We're shipmates now. Before I was out of her circle entirely, now I'm in her circle of trusted people, but she's not ready to share her thoughts with me. Being in that circle seemed enough for now and I'd left her to her thoughts. Still, no matter how impulsive this venture was, we should've talked. I'd thought of us as partners against the dangers out of the past and had the melted badge to prove it. I should've been angry as she expected me to be. I wasn't.

At the very bottom of my consciousness, vaguely, like a reflection in the dark water of a deep well, I'd a vision of Min, moth-like, flying ever closer and closer to the deadly flame of her parents' dark past, and there was nothing I could do to stop her. And, because the Dark Neb had given me a second's glimpse of her spirit, I feared I was a second moth, destined to follow her into the flame. If I managed to turn away and let her go, I'd regret it all my days. But if I followed, well, I'd still regret it all my days, though likely there wouldn't be all that many of them.

I shared the first message with Vynnia and Tenry. They weren't happy. If I'd shown them my private massage they'd have shipped out on the next ship to Sanre-tay. I briefly considered doing so, but when I took this berth I made a commitment to trust Min's judgment, so I followed my orders.

Well, I've jumped ahead of events, so I'd best swing around and bring this account back into some sort of chronological order.

02

Fifthday 16 Firstspring

I didn't sleep well. After the fog brightened in the view-panel and Min stirred awake, I had her open hatch and I slipped out to visit the battlefield. Everything lay untouched. I collected our billy-blades, her cap and the wreckage of mine, (my new gold captain's star, reduced to a small gold blob) and my battered package. Over cha and biscuits Min outlined the day's priorities, repair or replace everything that had been damaged in our encounter so as to leave no trace of the ambush to alarm Vynnia and Tenry.

We slipped out into the thinning mist and reached Star Gate Boulevard via the tube. First stop, a shop hardly wider than its door. We dropped Min's mech-legs off for rush repairs and then headed for Lorof & Staff to replace our com links and her jacket. To my surprise, Lorof has a whole section devoted to dart resistant fashion. Min informed me that wearing dart resistant clothing was standard practice when going off ship in the drifts

'I always got the impression from their yarns that the Four Shipmates simply dodged plasma darts,' I said. I guess I'm rather naive, or Unity Standard, as I thought armored clothing something confined to gaudy space fiction in words or vids.

'I'm sure they did. But I'm going with a dart resistant wardrobe.'

'What's the point if everyone fires armor-piercing darts?'

'Well, you only have to dodge half of the darts. Just make sure it's the armor piecing darts you're dodging...'

I wasn't certain how much of that was teasing. If any. And so I decided, when in the drifts, be a drifteer, and added several resistant sweaters, including a yellow one to Min's dismay, plus half a dozen shirts, trousers, and a uniform jacket to my wardrobe. I replaced my new cap, but had no intention of wearing it. I can read omens as well as the next spaceer. We picked up Min's mech-legs and returned to the Ghost.

I flew the Ghost up. Min wanted to give no hint to any remote observer that she was alive so I took the Ghost up tramp spacer style. Up easy. When I hailed the Lost Star I was greeted simply with a 'Meow'.

I suppose I asked for that.

03

Sixthday, 17 Firstspring

I took the gig across the anchorage to the Silvery Moon to help clear the ship and transfer the supplies and personal effects of my new shipmates to the Lost Star.

Vynnia enCarn proved to be everything one would expect of an ex-Patrol ship commander, a very serious, even formidable, though attractive woman. Her partner, Tenry Roynay, on the other hand, proved to be a tall, youthful looking fellow with a friendly smile and easy ways, not the sort of chap I'd have guessed spent half century in one of the Patrol's most dangerous assignments – commanding the boats that boarded and inspected suspicious vessels. Though very different, each impressed me with their air of easy competence and experience. I was glad Min approached them first with the captain's job. With their extensive experience, I'd felt very uneasy as captain, had they had not been given the chance before me. They'd easily fit in with us, having crossed orbits with my crew on the many occasions over the last 30 years when the yachting Mins visited Miccall aboard ship. The only question is how well they'll take to the tramp life after commanding a yacht and fifty years in the Patrol. Time will tell.

After stowing the supplies from the Silvery Moon I signed Min and Vynnia as pilots and Tenry on as an engineer. I showed them our vacant cabins and invited Min to take the "Owner's Suite" but she preferred one of the regular cabins.

Min and I drafted a notice to the crew outlining the changes – Lost Star was now a White Bird Line ship chartered to the Tiladore DevCom for a voyage to Tiladore. After that we'd likely be sent out of the Azminn system. Everyone needed to commit to at least Sanre-tay by Thirdday, 20 Firstspring and department heads should report on the 20th to work up their list of supplies and repairs needed in view of the extended voyage.

I spent the rest of the watch in radio exchanges with my crew, filling in the details and my optimistic assessment of our prospects. I kept mum about who owned White Bird telling them that for competitive reasons, I needed to keep that secret for now. I moved my kit to the Captain's quarters. It was hard, but necessary.

04

Firstday 18 Firstspring

A quiet ship day aboard ship. The Silvery Moon crew left early for the final inspection, completing the yacht's sale. Afterward Tenry and I spent half a watch adjusting a davit and its access tube on the port boat deck to accommodate the Ghost. Min took the Ghost down to meet old shipmates off the Aurora. And never returned.

05

Secondday 19 Firstspring

I've mentioned the radio-packets from Min. After that, I busied myself going through the ship's inventory of consumables and reviewing our replacement schedules. The department heads would do the same thing, but I wanted to be on top of their requests. Unlike them, I knew what our balance sheet looked like with the pre-Vinden death profits taken off the top.

Late in the fifth watch, just as I was settling into my hammock, I got a voice call. I touched my com link to open the channel.

'Ahoy Wee Willy! I've hear my young Lost Star shipmate has blossomed into a majestic ship's captain and is looking for a systems tech,' said a familiar voice over the background noise of a crowded tavern.

I recognized that voice immediately – Rafe gil'Giles. He'd been the ship's systems tech when I'd first signed on, a position he'd held off and on over the decades. gil'Giles is another one of those larger than life spaceers, a rolling stone, never content to spend more than a couple of years aboard any one ship, but always welcomed back. He's served on all of Captain Vinden's ships at one point or another, most of them several times. He's a treasure. He's not only an easy going, fun loving shipmate, and the best systems tech sailing the Azminn system, but he's on first name terms with every data network in the whole of the Nine Star Nebula. There's nothing he can't find, and nothing he can't do on a network. When he's aboard, your ship has the inside track on every box to be had – he knows what's available, what's coming up and what rate will get it. It's even said, though he'll blandly deny it, that he's an intelligence agent of the Patrol as well. It may be true, though I wouldn't bet on it. Still, he seems to know enough about the Patrol to keep them at bay.

I didn't hesitate. 'Didn't know I was, Rafe, but by Neb, even if I'm not, consider yourself signed on,' I said adding, 'Do I really need a system tech? I've yet to heard from Eljor.'

'Do you ever check your messages, Willy? Or will that be my job too?'

'Hold on, let me see,' I said, calling up my signals from the com link via the neural link and sure enough, three hours ago I'd received a radio-packet from Eljor informing me he decided to settle planet side for a while. I hadn't expected that.

'Right. Can you get up here tomorrow? I'd like my department heads to work up their list of repairs and requirements with an eye to an extended voyage,' I said, adding in a more somber voice, 'But I want you to understand that I'm doing this as a personal favor for an old shipmate. Eljor Pantin's notice is over three hours old now. The old, in his prime, Rafe gil'Giles would've been on the line within ten minutes. It's a good thing I've a young new tech with a shiny new ticket to help you along.'

'Aye, Willy. I can't deny it. I am getting old and feeble. It's a grand thing you've this sharp young tech aboard. Can't find my own hand if it's in my pocket, without following my arm down these days, but my credits are running low, and I'm looking for a nice easy berth. I know I can coast along with young Captain Willy and the old gang. We'll talk more, but I know you're ready for a nap and Bimbly's buying another round, so I've got to go.'

'Blast and thrust, Rafe, it'll be great to have you aboard!'

'Thanks, Willy. Be up tomorrow with the gang.'

'Oh, and don't go blabbing about who our owner is either,' I added. With his ability to hack into most records, he'd likely have peeked into who's behind the White Bird Line and Spectre Holdings before offering his services, and if he hadn't, the gang would have him on the case any moment now.

'Right. My regards to the young shrimp. 'Nigh, Captain. Sleep well.'

'See you tomorrow, fair orbits.'

I didn't question Rafe's knowledge of both our owner and the fact that I was settling in for a nap. Sure, it would've been a safe guess based on Port Prime time, but being Rafe gil'Giles and having served aboard ship, I've little doubt he could just as easily have tapped into the ship's environmental systems and noted I was in my cabin. (I made a mental note to ask him how many cats we had on board.)

As I lay back in my hammock I realized that if anyone could find information about the Azure Night, it was Rafe. It was likely something he could do in his sleep, or in a tavern between rounds of free drinks. Still, I'd have to break a confidence and did I really want to encourage Min? (No.) Rafe could do his digging in Sanre-tay if she wanted. I'd send a radio-packet to Min about signing Rafe and let her decide what, if anything, she wanted him to do when she arrived in Sanre-tay, and drifted off to sleep.

06

Thirdday 20 Firstspring to Firstday, 1 Secondspring

With the return of the department heads, the ship awoke from its slumber. The prospect of an extended voyage meant close attention needed to be paid to the fine details of re-supply. The supplies we'd normally pick up over the course of our usual round of the planets, like medical supplies, food culture flavors, and bio waste management ingredients, had to be stocked for the long voyage. In addition to the expendables, we needed to make sure all the spare parts that could not be replicated or manufactured on board were on hand. With a long serving crew, the process proceeded expeditiously, and by the end of the first ship day I'd their lists in front of me ready for editing and approval.

I took a shuttle down to Calissant the following day to conduct the necessary business at Min & Co. and to the Yacht Club where Min had left the Ghost. I'd been programmed into its security system and I flew it up to the ship. I spent two days in Port Barque-nela with the crew just to get away from the ship for a while and crossed orbits with Lyrath who was giving Port Barque-nela a trial run. Everyone returned to the ship early on Firstday the 24th ready for work.

After consulting Illy, I offered Vynnia the job of first mate, who reluctantly accepted, not wanting to step on any of the old crew's toes. I assured her Illy was looking forward to getting off the bridge to be our purser. I also reassigned Tenry as a pilot for this voyage to bring us up to contract spec in that department. The ex-Silvery Moon shipmates seamlessly fit into our little community and with Rafe on board as well, life aboard ship was going to be a bit livelier than it's been for several years.

Miclae Midedow, the Tiladore supercargo, arrived with the first sleeper-pods and oversaw their loading. We worked well together, and I made certain every box was stowed to her complete satisfaction. We completed our loading on schedule and departed Calissant on 1 Secondspring.

Calissant was never more than just another world of call for me, I rarely had the free time to spend much more than a night or two downside. Still, as it slipped astern, I'd the feeling I'd be a different Wil Litang when, or if, I ever saw it again.

### Part Two – The Mountain King

### Chapter 18 Object Unknown

It was late in the fourth watch, seven days out of Calissant. Rafe was pondering an intricate holographic display that rose from the surface of my desk. I'd my butt attached to one of the chairs on the non-captain side of the desk just watching him ponder the glowing web of lines. It was far too complex for me to follow.

'A shipboard coup?'

Rafe looked up and I glanced back. Tenry was lounging against the door frame with an easy smile, looking like a wharf rat king.

'I'd be the last to know,' I admitted. 'But Rafe assures me he's fishing for the true log.'

'Without much success,' he admitted looking through the display.

The official log of the Lost Star, under all her various names and owners, goes back more than a millennium. It's a comprehensive list of passages, major damages and repairs. The log is supposed to be neither alterable or erasable. But if the yarns of the Four Shipmates have any truth in them, the current log is a work of fiction for at least fifty years prior to the ship's appearance in the Azminn system.

'I believe I've located a black hole in the ship's data system,' said Rafe, adding, 'A dark node where data can be buried so deep in the system that it's all but undiscoverable and unrecoverable without a very specific series of inquiries, likely known only to the creator of the black hole.'

'Or someone like you,' suggested Tenry.

Rafe grinned and wiggled his hand. 'Maybe... I've a reputation to uphold. But even if I've found the location, it will take some tricky fishing to wiggle anything out of it and, alas, I'm getting old and clumsy.'

'Just out of curiosity, what makes you think Miccall hid the real log? And how do you explain the current log?' asked Tenry.

'Tenny my lad, there are places in the deep drifts where one can buy a very convincing ship's log to patch over one buried in a black hole. This false log is well done, but hardly original,' said Rafe, dissolving the display and settling back in the chair. 'But, you're just tweaking my beard. You know that as well as I do. It was your business, back in the days when you were a respectable Patrol lad, not a tramp spaceer, to sniff out just such deceptions.'

'Oh, maybe once or twice, a long time ago,' Tenry acknowledged with a grin. He switched his gaze to me. 'Why do you have Rafe fishing for the real log?'

'I'm a cautious fellow,' I began slowly, trying to decide how to explain my interest. 'As captain of this packet, I think it'd be wise to see if there's any truth in the tales they told. Because if there is, then this packet may have a history that could rear up and bite us, even now. Especially since we're slated to go out of system. Having an idea of what this ship was involved in might prove very helpful in avoiding future trouble. I'd be foolish not to see what can be dug up before something nasty out of the Four Shipmates' past turns up.'

He gave me a skeptical smile.

'Oh, I admit I'm curious as well, but it's more than curiosity, it's caution.'

'You may have a point,' allowed Tenry, adding, 'I'm curious too, though I'd be surprised if Rafe finds anything. They knew how to keep secrets. Still, it wouldn't hurt to look, if only to keep Rafe out of mischief. For a while.'

'Looks like a long while. But the secrets are in the system somewhere. Any professional advice to share?' asked Rafe.

Tenry shrugged himself off the door frame and said, 'I'm certain I haven't any professional secrets you don't know,' adding in a lower voice as he stepped over to the desk. 'However, seeing that you're determined to dig up their past, I might as well do my part, find the black hole and I'll help you bait the hook.'

I stared at him. 'You can?'

Rafe just smiled. He likely knew something. He likely knows everything.

Tenry nodded. 'But I need your promise to keep what I know between the three of us,' he paused. 'Part of my job with the Mins was to protect them. I failed. I don't intend to fail again with their daughter. Young Min is already suspicious about the crash and I don't want to encourage her to look deeper. I don't want her going after her parents' killers. Seeing that the Four Shipmates couldn't defeat them, they'd likely finish the job of killing her if she found them. The more I know about those days the better I can keep her safe, but the more she knows, the more likely she'll get herself killed. You see where I'm coming from.'

Indeed. And I'd need to chart a very careful course or I'd betray someone's (or everyone's) confidence. I believed, however, that I was bound to keep the assassination attempt secret, not her intentions.

'I have to tell you, Ten, from what she's said to me, she clearly intends to find out who killed her parents and why. Despite Captain Vinden's strong hints to stay hidden on Kimsai, she didn't stay put. And if she's not taking Uncle Hawk's advice, I don't think we're likely to change her mind.

'Rafe, here, is working at my request, but I've no doubt she'll have the same idea once on board. This ship is hers and she's my owner. I'm not about to start my career as captain by lying to my owner. I've given this considerable thought and I think it's best to help her find those people, in the safest, most prudent manner possible. We have to trust that once she sees what she's up against she'll come to the same conclusion the Four Shipmates did and disappear into the 900 billion or become an adept on Kimsai.'

Tenry gave me a hard look. 'Do you really think it's wise?'

'I'd not be aboard if I didn't trust her judgment,' I replied. 'The thing is, if we don't guide her, she'll do it on her own. I'm certain of that. Helping is not an ideal choice, but the alternative is worse.'

He considered that. His usual carefree, youthful appearance was noticeably absent. Rafe watched us. 'You seem to know a great deal about what she's thinking,' he said after a pause.

A dangerously leading statement. A careful, and not necessarily completely truthful reply was necessary. 'No, I don't. I do know just enough to realize any objection I raise will do nothing to stop her from doing what she wants. Still, we've a living to make tramping, even if the logs reveal the center of the mystery, we'd likely be years of tramping away from it. The Shipmates ran for decades. Hopefully time will temper any wild ideas Min may harbor.'

'Besides, forewarned is forearmed,' added Rafe, watching us. 'But there's no point in raising phantoms at this point. Fishing anything out of the black hole will be iffy unless you actually have the key. In any event, I'll keep your contribution secret, it'll only enhance my reputation.'

'I'll keep your confidence as well. I just wanted you to be aware of how your contributions are likely going to be used. There's no obligation to help, Ten.'

Tenry stared into space thinking and shrugged. 'I don't like it, but I don't see any other course. I know her too well.'

He pulled up another of the chairs and we gathered around the desk. 'Here's the heads of what I know. Dates and places I can dig out later. I first met the tramp skipper you know as Captain Miccall, some sixty-five, seventy years ago. He was going by the name of Dunsany Shard back then and the ship's name was the Desperate Lark out of Balbonte's Rock in the Alantzium Drifts. I remember that clear enough. The other Shipmates all wore different names too. In fact, every time I crossed orbits with them over the next twenty years, they were sailing under different names,' he paused and laughed, 'I think that's why they were always called each other by their titles, Owner, Captain, Pilot, Purser – they'd have had a bloody Neb of a time keeping their names straight otherwise.

'As you know, I spent most of my Patrol career in small patrol boats – sometimes aboard Patrol Cruisers, mostly, however, in planetary orbit – inspecting ships with black marks for contraband and babysitting Trade Control officials while on board to register the cargo of drifteer ships arriving in Unity ports. For the last century, this ship often fell into both categories. She must've crossed my action desk under one guise or another more than a dozen times over those years.

'The Patrol doesn't want personnel in my old slot to get too cozy with the traffic of any one port for very long, if you get my drift, so I was transferred to a new posting once a year and moved from system to system. As footloose as I was, I still ran into them every couple of years no matter where I was posted. And, as I said, always with different names and stories, not that it mattered...

'A ship's hard to disguise once you've seen it enough times. Dimensions and build stay the same and scars and dents become familiar markers since they're usually too expensive to erase. The Patrol keeps a detailed record of our black mark ships. Every ship arriving in port is run through our data base of suspected ships, names and paint don't fool the Patrol...'

I glanced at Rafe, but he kept his face completely placid. It probably wasn't news to him, and with Tenry being Patrol Reserve, it probably wasn't a good time to suggest that we should peek into those Patrol records if all else failed.

'Just as an aside, you shouldn't be surprised if we're searched frequently once we leave Azminn, and especially coming out of the drifts. Those records are still current in Patrol offices. However, if the Shipmates ran contraband, they were skilled enough not to get caught, so they were never tagged red. Even so, I always made it a point to inspect them whenever they showed up in my orbit,' he laughed. 'Just to keep them on their toes...

'I'd take my inspection crew out and turn them loose to give the ship our A1 inspection, while the Shipmates and I sat around yarning in their eclectic mix of truth and lies. It was always a pleasant time. They never seemed to sweat it.'

'How'd you first get to know them? Was it just through inspecting them so often?'

'No, the first time was a lot hotter than a contraband inspection... I was a young officer, five years into my hitch... I was on a patrol in the Thousand Moons of Shadownia, in the Alantzia system... But, well that's a long yarn for another time...'

Alantzia. That figures.

'Anyway, I recorded all those meeting in my private records along with what names everyone was wearing at the time and perhaps some other fine details that might help you hook some data out of that black hole, if it exists and the data is there...'

'Great, it's all those little details that I can tie together, crew names, cargoes with precise Unity dates and associated ports or planets which I can use to bait my hook. Once I wiggle some data out, I can usually tease the rest out as well, given time. It's getting that first strand teased out that's so iffy.' Looking up Rafe added, ' Yes, my dear?'

'Rafe, Ten, Captain?' said Molaye, from the doorway.

'Yes, Molaye?' I asked, hoping I didn't look guilty. Most likely I looked startled – seeing her gave me a little jolt of concern. She and Lili had the watch. Though the bridge was only a few steps away, she'd not come around to just pass the time of watch.

'Sorry to interrupt your confab, but we're reading an object approximately five hours out and about four thousand kilometers off our course. No laser beacon. No radio reading either, of course. Our first read gives us an object in excess of four kilometers in size but there's no mention of it in the charts. We thought it best not to wait too long to inform you.'

'Right. Exactly. Luckily we have our systems' mate right here,' I replied, nodding towards Rafe.

Rafe already had the radar scan up on the desktop and on one of the view-panels. It showed what appeared to be a slightly brighter fuzzy object against a glowing background of Azminn-lit gas and dust. It had to be big and bright to be visible at this range.

'Notice the occasional spark near it,' added Molaye.

Damn. We were sailing half blinded by the dust and gas of the Nebula. By the standard of the Nebula, we were in clear space, only in the planetary orbital path is there less dust and gas. Yet even so, we were plowing fast enough through the dust and gas to create a shell of ionized gas and charged particles around the ship, severely limiting the range of our radio, conventional radar and other sensors. The glare from Azminn made the thin veil of dust and gas bright enough to make the laser radar less than optimal as well. We were relying on the charts rather than our sensors at this point, and if the charts are wrong or incomplete, well, damn.

The object was no danger itself. But if it proved to be a small asteroid, a likely prospect, given its size, it might well be associated with a swarm of smaller rocks, undetectable at this range. Depending on how that swarm lay in regards to our course and how extensive it was, we might not have time to alter our course to avoid it if we waited until they were detectable. Space, even in a meteor swarm is mostly empty, so we'd likely pass through untouched. However, with the right angle, even a half-meter sized meteor could penetrate one of the hatches and vaporize in the hold inflicting hundreds of casualties to our passengers. Highly unlikely, but not unlikely enough to ignore.

I watched the screen as Rafe fiddled with the radar controls for a bit. He couldn't make it go away. It wasn't a phantom reading.

'Interesting. Willy my lad, the master is going to have to retire to the main console to get a better read on this,' he said, pushing himself to his feet with a sigh.

I turned to Molaye still in the doorway. 'Call Kie to the bridge, Rafe always appreciates an audience to oh and ah and tell him how clever he is, plus Kie should be able to pick up a new trick or two.'

Molaye nodded and as Rafe followed her out the door, he paused and said, 'With just the laser radar, this may take some time to pin down.' He gave me a significant look.

I sighed, but I'd already realized that. I swung around the desk and consulted the duty roster and tapped the com link for Lilm in engineering.

'What's up, Captain?' answered Lilm.

'We appear to have a large uncharted object with a possible meteor field along our course...'

'This close to Azminn?'

'Aye and Rafe hasn't been able to make it go away. I'm going to run ahead and do a little scouting,' I said. 'Would you please cycle the gig up and see that it's fully provisioned.'

'Can't argue with Rafe. I'll have the gig ready inside of ten,' said Lilm.

'I'd like to volunteer for the job, Skipper,' said Tenry as I broke connections.

'Thanks Ten, but it's just a quick survey. I'll do it alone. It gives me a fine excuse to pilot a boat like it should be flown, wide open. Every time I've tried in the past, the skipper or mate came down on me with a hundred gees.'

'You've been the skipper for six months...'

'True, but habits pounded in at a hundred gees, and reinforced over fifteen years are hard to break,' I replied defensively.

'You should still have someone else on board,' insisted Tenry 'I'll tag along.'

'It's just a run up the course...'

'Not to get too out of line, Skipper, but a two-person crew is the standard minimum. It offers a much greater margin of safety if something exciting happens, two heads and four hands make a big difference. Plus, I'm expendable.'

I sighed. 'Ten, trust me, being expendable is not a good selling point. You might want to stress your decades of Patrol service in small boats investigating dicey things instead.'

'Same difference, Skipper,' he replied cheerfully. 'I'll get my gear. We should suit up before going aboard. It's a lot easier doing it here rather than trying to do it in a small boat – in a hurry.'

I wasn't going to win. No point being stubborn. He's the expert and my policy is to defer to experts, 'Right. Suit locker in ten minutes. I need to stop in the bridge and check with Rafe.'

Tenry gave me a casual salute and headed out. I took a calming breath and followed him out, rounding the corner to the bridge.

It was near the change of the watch so Vyn and Riv, the next watch, were on the bridge. All were gathered around Rafe and Kie at the sensor station against the aft bulkhead. They made room for me. Rafe had begun to isolate the image, building a much clearer image by overlaying timed stills. It became apparent that the object was almost round and surrounded by other large objects, the smallest several times the size of the Lost Star.

'Have a clue?' I asked as the image slowly grew slightly more detailed.

He shrugged. 'Well Willy, it's still too far to tease out the fine details. It's bright, it's likely smooth ice or metal, more likely metallic. Seems to be slowly tumbling. I'd say it's approximately 5000 meters by 4000 meters, with several associated satellites, 200 to 300 meters in length, but they appear to have such an erratic movement that I can't be sure what I'm actually seeing. I'll keep refining the image and determine its relative course, but that will likely take an hour or more.'

'Any sign of an associated meteor stream?'

'Still too far out and too much scattered light to pick out objects much smaller than 100 meters.'

'That's what I expected. Lilm's cycling up the gig. Ten and I will run ahead and give you a better look.'

'Don't you have a drone you can send ahead?' asked Vyn beside me.

'Yes, I believe it's buried behind the flier and surface skimmer in no. 4 hold. Never had any use for it on our regular run. Remind me to have it turned out and refurbished during the long voyage. It'll no doubt come in handy in the drifts.'

'Well, I suppose Ten's the next best thing to a drone,' she said with a wry smile.

'He convinced me he's the ticket for this mission. Didn't give me much of a choice,' I replied, adding, 'Vyn, you're in charge of this packet until I return. Alert Miclae to the situation. She should be included in all our discussions.'

### Chapter 19 The Derelict

01

The Lost Star lay off to port, starkly illuminated in bright yellow, red fringe and dark blue shadows. Azminn was blazing beyond her, uncomfortably big and boiling. I ran through my last systems check, synced our laser com and sensors with the ship and finished my flight program.

I glanced at Tenry beside me and he grinned, 'Rockets Away!' Which was Captain Brilliant Pax's tag line.

I sighed and opened up the gig's plasma rockets, pushing us into the cushions of our seats.

As I mentioned, I haven't been able to fly rockets the way I'd like to since signing on, even as Captain, but now I'd a reason. I opened her up and flew flat out. It was exhilarating and a bit frightening – we were over running all but our laser radar, trusting that we didn't get really unlucky. Anything bigger than a pebble hitting the gig at anything more than a glancing blow would vaporize and likely pulverize us inside. We didn't say much – there was nothing tricky about the flight, since the shipboard computers handle much of the routine navigation, but at max power, I needed to pay close attention via my com link to keep the rocket balanced and on course. Tenry manned the array of sensors as look-out, relaying the information back to the ship as well. He chatted with the gang aboard the ship. This was just a lark for him.

We reached midpoint forty-three minutes out – the object turned out to be on a roughly parallel course, so it would be a long stern chase to catch and pass it. That was good news, since it meant that the 'Star would have the better part of eleven hours to execute any needed course adjustments. I swung the gig about and began our deceleration, intending to drift past the object along the ship's current path to search for associated meteor stream. So far we'd not picked up any sign of meteors – promising, but not conclusive.

By the time we were within six thousand kilometers of the object, we were just drifting relative to it and had a solid laser radar image of it. It appeared to be a very large ship or space station with an oval body about 4500 meters in diameter, wrapped around a 200-meter cylindrical core, some 5000 meters in length. One end of the core appeared to be hollow and extended about 100 meters from the oval hull – rocket tubes or entry port. The other end, however, sported an unruly mess of twisted beams and cables. Eight massive, two-kilometer-long articulate legs or extensions were spaced around the core like the twisted and damaged legs of a squished spider. Held in a tangled web of cables, and twisted legs were five large pods, each as big as the Lost Star. Three more pods floated some distance off, apparently tethered to the object by long cables which dragged them along with the slowly tumbling vessel.

'Any idea what we're looking at?' I asked Tenry and the ship's crew at the other end of the com link.

'Space station, drift foundry or factory... I've seen something like this but I can't quite place it...'

'Could it be alien?' Lili asked from the ship's bridge.

That was unlikely. The Outbound Survey has yet to find technical intelligent non-humans (as far as we know), much less space faring ones.

'A long voyage settlement ship perhaps?' Rafe chipped in.

More likely. It was big enough, but with our Nebula settled forty millennia ago, it seemed unlikely we'd find a settlement ship here, however long lost.

The debate continued in the background, 'Some sort of sentient machine factory'... 'What would it be doing here?' As the speculation continued over the com I ran through my options. Or rather, my obligations.

Being a ship or station, apparently in distress or derelict, we were morally, if not legally, obliged to offer assistance, though the lack of the required identifying beacons muddled the legal case. Still I'd not smudge my Guild book by cutting legal corners. More to the point, I needed to look after my owner's financial interest – which is to say, the prospect of salvage. Our charter terms would severely limit what aid we could offer, but I'd the time and the gig in position to investigate. Once again, it seemed my course was set by circumstances. Being captain didn't seem to give me a great deal of freedom. I did, however, get to make out the watch roster.

I told Tenry, 'Hold on,' and fired the steering rockets to flip the ship and alter our course to bring us closer to the object.

'I'm investigating, what do we know about salvage claims?' I asked the gallery.

'Salvage is out, it's not in any immediate danger,' said Tenry. 'We could only take off survivors if any. However, if it's been abandoned, as seems the case, and for more than five hundred years, it would be considered a derelict and we can claim it as our own. But I believe that usually involves manning it...'

'Which we're not going to do.'

'Let's wait and see what we have, Captain,' said Vynnia. 'I'll do more research on this end.'

02

I brought the gig to within five kilometers of the object and put it into a slow polar orbit. This close, the vessel was massive, the gig's shadow a tiny dot sliding along a scarred wasteland. There are larger man-made structures in space, one or two even in the Unity backwater of Azminn, but they're usually built up over the centuries by the slow accretion of smaller structures. Something purposely built on this scale made an impression.

The hull had overlaying scars, dents and even gashes, speaking of many centuries in space, likely in the drifts. Any markings were long since sanded off by dust and rocks.

'No thermal anomalies suggesting engine heat or exchangers. Everything looks like reflected solar heat,' Tenry said, watching the sensor displays. 'No radio signals, completely dead, at least from the outside.'

I glanced across to Tenry, 'At least from the outside?'

'It could be a pirate base,' he said with a straight face. 'They'd keep everything well shielded, heat exchangers inside the outer hull, ships would enter at far end. This would make a perfect base, a pirate's secret city.'

'I'm going to assume that's your excuse for humor, Ten. You may dream of being Captain Brilliant Pax of the Space Ways, but I don't.'

He just grinned and said, 'Arr, Skipper, just doing my job.'

'Quit teasing the Skipper, Ten. Has it come to you what we're looking at yet?' asked Vynnia over the com.

'As a matter of fact, it has. I'm just waiting to see what the spider legs look like before venturing my opinion. I want to make sure they're not some sort of cranes.'

'They're coming up now,' I said as we rounded the great bulge of the hull.

'Ah, as I suspected,' crowed Tenry as he focused the gig's viewer on the vast twisted wreckage of the articulated legs. 'Notice the large pads at the ends of the legs, we're looking at stabilizing struts. What we have here is a super-tug for moving large asteroids. This is the head of the tug. It would be anchored and secured to the asteroid by the array of articulated struts. Those battered pods are the balancing and steering rockets. They'd be set up on the asteroid. A super-tug is basically a massive fuel tank attached to very powerful rocket engines.'

In the background I could hear the bridge crew chattering, they all knew, just didn't get a chance to say it before Tenry. It was that obvious, now. Here in the backwaters of the nebula, we don't have many hollowed asteroids, but they're common enough in the First Settled systems. In those systems they're used as private worlds, resorts, cities, ports, factories and even as massive cruise ships/resorts that circle the First Settled systems, passengers being shuttled to and fro as they pass by each planet in turn. They're formed by flash heating the entire metal asteroid with thermal reactors to its melting point and using deeply planted explosives to inflate the molten metal into a hollow sphere or long cigar shaped vessel, similar to blowing glass bottles.

'So what's it doing here?'

'Good question, Skipper. I don't think we'll find any answers just orbiting her...'

'Just wondering out loud. I could live with the mystery...' I said hastily. 'Anyone looked up Patrol records to identify this ship?'

'We've come up blank,' replied Vynnia. 'I've also been researching our salvage options. Ten was right – if it's been abandoned for five hundred years, we can claim it. And he's right about establishing an airtight claim, we'd have to take possession. Sighting establishes no claim. Boarding it might, or might not. However, our owner would probably need as much information as possible to decide whether it's worth the expense of sending a crew out to take possession of it.'

'So you're suggesting we board it,' I said warily.

'You have the time, and if you can find an easily opened access port, it could make a difference in determining the validity of any claim and whether or not we'd want to make a claim.'

'You think it's even worth the effort? It's pretty far from anywhere.'

'Can't say. That would be for the experts to determine, which is why we'd want to make as complete a survey as we can. Very large engines are expensive to produce, and if these are in good shape, they could well be worth it. Mere scrap metal might not be. Once we file a claim, it would become our responsibility. I think we need to look into it for the White Bird Line to make an informed decision.'

I glanced at Tenry, who gave me a cheerful grin. 'Expendable...'

I sighed. 'Yah.' I'd realized that already.

'Right. Least we should do is buoy it and chart its course for the Patrol. Have Myes and Lilm rig up some beacons. They can bring them out in the long boat when you get close enough. How many hours do we have to do this survey?'

'We're still nine hours and 17 minutes from our nearest approach.'

'That gives us at least seven hours. We'll search for an unblocked way in. We should've packed a lunch,' I said, fingers crossed that we'd not be that lucky...

No luck. After rounding the stern of the vessel with its four gaping 70-meter-wide rocket tubes we got lucky. Tenry said, 'There – that small black square just under the bulge of the fuel tanks...' He zoomed in the display to show a black hollow rectangle just visible in the nebula lit dimness of the shadowed side of the wreck. While it looked small on the ship, it was an open freight airlock, I could just make out in the faint light of the nebula illuminating its hollowness.

'Blast.' I muttered. Tenry laughed and to the Lost Star audience, 'You heard him. We're going down to check this blasted air lock out...Rockets Away!'

### Chapter 20 The Undead Ship

I set the gig down alongside the open lock, shooting down two magnetic anchors to secure it.

'Nice of them to leave the door open for us...' said Tenry as we drifted out of our seats.

'Likely to vent escaping fuel if they meant to be gone a long time. Hydrogen leaks even from the D-matter tanks. They'd have left the lock open so they'd not come back to a ship filled with rocket fuel,' I said. It was the most innocent explanation I could come up with.

'Makes sense, if they expected to be gone a very long time. Though why they'd expect to be off the ship for that long and return makes for an interesting question.'

'One I'm not all that curious about, but here we are,' I said, as I cycled the gig's systems down. We swung into the main compartment to collect our gear and finish suiting up.

Tenry took a holstered plasma darter out of his kit bag and handed it to me.

'Do I really need this? Never used one...' (My only experience with them was recently, from the other end.)

'Probably not,' he replied, adding with relish, 'But if I'm wrong, you'll not have time to jet back to get it... Best to be prepared. Remember we've not ruled out a pirate hideout or a smuggler's rendezvous. Or if the crew left the system and food culture vats running, the rats could have mutated to the size of Astro by now and imagine the cats that feed upon them...'

'And as long as you're trying to frighten me, how effective are plasma darts against ghosts?'

He laughed. 'Can't say I've any experience with ghosts. But I wouldn't hesitate to waste a few darts to find out, should it come to that...' He showed me the basics of darter operation, set mine to a non-lethal charge level but set to fire 4mm darts that could penetrate space suits, and handed it to me. He clipped a second one on to his suit.

We helped each other don the jet packs. I clipped on a satchel of tools and a radio relay while Tenry added a satchel of his special Patrol boarding boat leader tricks. Lastly we donned our clearsteel helmets and synced our com systems with the ship. I extended the collapsible air lock and we made our way out the upper hatch, one by one, swinging ourselves down the derelict's hull. I attached a third anchor line from the forward landing gear to a ring near the lock, just to be sure, and joined Tenry at the edge of the open cargo lock.

As I stood shining my torch down into its black depths, it struck me just how starkly my life had changed during the past year. Standing on a vast derelict space ship facing possible pirates, giant rats, cats, ghosts... well, actually nothing but fear, was not something I'd ever dreamed I'd be doing. It seemed in that moment, a steep price for being captain of the Lost Star.

Tenry looked to me.

'Let's get it done,' I said and stepped over the side and finding my footing on the airlock deck, started down.

'Rockets Away!' exclaimed Tenry following me down. It was a small comfort to know I had someone along who was having so much fun. Still, I'd strangle him if he said it again.

The beams of our headgear lamps and our high powered hand held torches sliced through the nearly solid blackness. Both doors were open so we walked straight into the engine room on a grating deck. I pulled the com-relay/beacon out of my satchel and attached it to the grating, making certain the ship was still reading our radio and visuals through the open lock. A ship's hull is impervious to the full radiation spectrum so a relay and the open lock was needed to get our signals out of the ship. I wanted the gang along for the ride.

The platform wrapped around the ship's massive rocket engines which ran straight up and down into the blackness above and below, secured by a vast organic-like mesh of cross-beams tying the engines to the massive ship's ribs that carried the thrust of the engines up through the ship to its blunt pushing end, some 5000 meters above us. Our torches revealed a series of empty grated storage decks above and below us. To our right was a gaping opening in the decks – a large lift shaft running along one of the massive structural ribs.

Tenry turned and looked to me with a grin, clearly visible through his clearsteel helmet. 'Seen enough, Skipper?'

'Yep, for all the good it will do me, ' I replied, adding, 'You're enjoying not being in charge, aren't you?'

'It's like being a kid again.'

'Again? Since when...'

'Appoint him point man, Captain,' suggested Vynnia from the ship.

'But that'd make me the rear guard, and I don't want that either. We'll take the lift shaft up, side by side,' I said, attaching a beacon light to the deck to guide our return. 'Rockets Away, Pax,' I added when I finished, jumping to break contact with the platform and fire my jet pack rockets.

'To the stars, lads!' he replied as he jetted up beside me. Another Pax line.

Like sparks we drifted up through the jungle of beams and braces that appeared and disappeared into the blackness. Tenry used luminous spray paint to make glowing arrows pointing downwards every 50 meters or so on the rib. I quickly came to see their value, in the weightless darkness all directions looked and felt much the same. I asked him why he used a downward arrow. He laughed and said that in a hasty retreat you didn't have to think, you just follow the arrows.

We quickly left the airlock platform far below us as we drifted up though a great black hollowness. After five minutes of steady upwards progress we came to a complex array of platforms, a sprawling space filled with large fuel pumps, twisting fuel lines and walkways weaving through the heads of the massive fusion piles that powered the plasma engines. It seemed like the ship had been made for giants. Above us and as far as our torch beams could reach stretched a series of "interior" fuel tanks anchored to the wide ribs. Lilm had us stop and give the pumps and reactor heads a good looking over, hoping she could identify the part manufacturers. Nothing familiar. We continued up the lift shaft.

I've lived in spaceships almost constantly for the last two decades. The engine room should not have affected me with the uneasiness it did. It felt both claustrophobic and vast at the same time. The daunting scale of the compartment did not seem built for or by humans. Though lifeless and abandoned, things moved in the corner of my eyes – shadows cast by our torches as we swung them about. I had to keep reminding myself of that...

Eventually the lift shaft ended on a deck that spanned the entire 200-meter diameter of the core. Our torch beams found a bank of control panels and equipment in the center core of the deck, an isolated oasis in great expanse of empty blackness. From its location it was clearly the engine control center.

We crossed the wide deck to inspect it. The controls were familiar looking, but unfamiliar in the details and the dead dials and screens told us nothing. We moved slowly from one set of controls to another, recording the scene and giving our viewers on the ship and any other subsequent vid viewers a chance to study them. Radio contact was spotty, so it took a while.

'That looks to be the standby generator station just off to Tenry's right side,' directed Myes over the radio link. 'It should have its own micro reactor that you can start manually.'

Tenry turned and found the standby station. I joined him.

'Right. Micro reactor, attached thermo-generator is just below deck,' said Tenry as he knelt to examine the small casing mounted just below the controls. 'It looks as good as new. Nice thing about hard vacuum – nothing decays. This button should activate the pile and kick the generator on line...'

'And if it doesn't?'

'Then we should probably be someplace else in an hour or two. But these things are designed to be foolproof, just for situations like this. Right Myes?'

'Not much to get flaky or go wrong, even a couple of thousand years shouldn't make any difference, the pile wouldn't have decayed too much for it not to work. From where I'm sitting, I'd say go ahead and fire it up.'

'Yah, fire it up, Tenny old boy,' added Riv over the link. 'I'm very comfortable with it myself.'

Tenry and I exchanged a grin, 'Thanks guys. With our engineers in agreement, what can I say but fire it up. I'd like to get some light about this place... Or an excuse to get the Neb out of here.'

'Right,' Tenry replied and jammed the button down. He reached down and put his gloved hand on the generator since we'd not be able to hear it operating in the vacuum.

It took almost a half a minute before he nodded, 'It's beginning to purr... and I see lights on the control panel.'

Section by section the stand-by lights in the vast engine room and presumably, throughout the ship came on. With power the control panel came to life with lights indicating that all the piles were cold, all systems off line and the fuel tanks were empty. The more sophisticated data screens needed authorizations to be accessible, which we, and likely no one alive, had.

'The ship seems to have been powered down, systematically secured and taken out of commission. Perhaps to be scrapped... ' said Tenry as he finished looking over the various control panels.

'From the inside it doesn't look ready for the scrap yards. Everything looks new. Have you seen equipment or control panels you recognize? My familiarity with engine room equipment doesn't extend beyond the Lost Star's engine room.'

'Don't recognize the names, may well be custom work. Being such a specialized ship, that wouldn't be surprising. Maybe we'll have more luck in the crew quarters. The crew always leaves junk behind,' said Tenry, pointing across the deck to the access well and circling stairway that was set about one third of the way in from the hull on the far side of the central core.

Judging from the total lack of anything left from the ship's original crew so far, I wasn't confident, 'I'm not betting on it. But I'd like to find the bridge.'

We jetted over to the access well. 'Crew quarters are in vacuum too,' I said, looking up through the open hatchway.

'After you, Skipper.' Tenry said with a wave of his hand. 'Remember to say "Rockets Away!" It inspires me.'

'I'm thinking of ordering you to rocket away up the shaft and report back to me what you see. I'm getting more bloody Patrol minded all the time...' I replied, as we drifted up on our jet pack rockets. I added to our shipboard observers, 'We'll likely be out of radio contact in a moment, once we leave the engine room. I'm going to allow a maximum of an hour to explore the rest of the ship. If we need more time, we'll check in and let you know.'

'Right, Captain. Don't lose track of time and scare us.'

'Trust me, I won't,' I replied. With the lights on, the ship was a little less dead, but even more empty. The sooner I was back aboard my ship, the happier I'd be.

We lost contact with the ship as we passed beyond shielded engine room bulkhead. It got very quiet without the background chatter.

The access well led to a single level, opening on a wide passageway that followed the curve of the hull. Most, but not all of the light panels were glowing, some off color or dim. It had apparently been eons since they were powered on. Door-panels were open on both sides of the passageway. The door-panels in the outside bulkhead led to multi-roomed compartments – crew quarters on a pretty lavish scale. All stripped bare to the built-ins. No trash left behind. The interior door-panels opened to an archipelago of large empty spaces and smaller rooms, all bare, but obviously meant to be lounges, gyms, rec rooms, plus a galley, storage areas and perhaps a moss garden.

'They didn't leave a clue,' said Tenry.

'You know Ten, I beginning to think there was nothing in here to begin with. This damn ship was never finished.'

'Now that you mention it...'

'There's no wear and tear. What is missing may well have never been installed.

'But you'd think even construction crews would leave more behind than this...'

'Aye,' I admitted, adding, 'Unless the buyer was going to do the final fitting out and something happened between the time the ship builder finished and the buyer took possession. Say the market for hollow asteroids crashed and didn't come back until the owners or builders went bankrupt. This could be just a big white elephant, too expensive to do anything with!'

'I'm willing to buy that Skipper, though it's strayed pretty far away from the First Systems. How long would you think it's taken to find its way here?'

'They've been moving asteroids for tens of thousands of years... I don't think that would be a problem, assuming you can imagine someone just sending something like this adrift in the first place.'

'It might have been built in Aticor or Amdia, or in the near-by drifts. Neb, even Azminn on spec, and the demand never developed to bring it on line. If it has been drifting though some of the thick drifts it might not be as old as it looks from the outside,' suggested Tenry. 'I'll have to get Vyn on it. She doesn't like mysteries like this. There's a record somewhere of this ship and she'll find it, knowing her. Have you seen enough, Skipper?'

'Yes.' I said and left it at that for a moment before adding, 'What do you think?'

We shared a grin. 'Yah. I don't think there's anything more to discover, but I'm not ready to face Vyn just yet, either,' Tenry said with shrug. 'It looks like there's only a single deck and this passage around should take us what? Ten minutes?'

I did the math in my head. 'Likely less. It's about half a kilometer if it circles back around.'

'Right, let's go. I am getting hungry.'

The passageway gently curved out of sight in both directions. The access well was to our right so we turned left and stepped out. Door-panels became scarce and sealed once we left the crew quarters. We passed several radical passageways, but they just led to a lifeboat access points in the inner hull.

We'd not been walking for more than a few minutes when I felt a slight tremor shake the deck under foot.

'Did you feel that?'

'The vibration? Some system must be coming on line with the emergency generator up and running.' he replied looking about.

'I'm not sure I like that.' Could be any one of a hundred things, but I couldn't think of one, off hand.

'Look ahead,' said Tenry. Just at the edge of the curve, the passage ahead ended abruptly.

'A disaster door,' I said as we approached.

'Explains the vibrations,' muttered Tenry. 'Environmental sensors must have come on line and registering no air pressure, triggered the emergency doors.'

'Rather late, the emergency generator's been up for some time.'

'Not high on the priority list?' suggested Tenry.

'Emergency services should be on top.'

We reached the disaster door. Tenry punched the flashing open button on the door several times without any results. 'Bloody Neb,' he muttered. 'You'd think it would open with vacuum on both sides. I don't see a manual latch.'

'Yah.' I took a deep breath and tried to slow my heart rate down a notch and not jump to any outlandish conclusions. 'Let's head back. Nothing more to see now.'

He glanced behind me, looking grim. 'How far around do you think we are? Should've been paying more attention. I'm getting too old for this.'

I glanced at data display. 'We've been walking less than five minutes. No more than half way. Less, I think. Let's follow your arrows back.'

We reached the next disaster door in less than a minute. Could be four or five doors between us, with no guarantee the access well would be open.

'Right. I've explosive charges in my kit that will crack them, jamming disaster doors is an old delaying tactic, but it takes time to set the charges properly... We may end up running late...' he said, hauling his satchel around and digging in it.

'Might be faster using the lifeboat access point we passed. That hatch will certainly open manually. We should be able to get to the engine room from between the hulls.'

'Should have thought of that myself. I am getting old. Let's go.'

We turned and quickly found one of the radical passages to the hull and followed it to its end. I hit the open pad on the access controls without results.

'Manual it is,' said Tenry, grasping the wheel to unlock the hatch, pushed up. It barely moved. 'Needs oil.'

'Let me get on the bulkhead so I can help. Together we should be able to open it.' Silently adding, 'I hope.' I swung around to get leverage from the bulkhead. In free fall you need to push from something solid. We pushed.

The wheel began to turn and to spin. Though unlocked, the hatch needed oil too, but by bracing ourselves against the bulkhead for leverage, we pushed it opened enough to fit through.

We found ourselves between the inner and outer hulls on a bright yellow, grated platform that filled perhaps a third of the space between two of the massive ship's ribs. Next to the hatch, steep stairs ran up the bulkhead to the dark lofty space above where the ship's ribs converged at the blunt prow of the tug. No doubt there'd be lifeboats in launch tubes somewhere in the darkness overhead. Across the platform, ten meters away, was a short ladder attached to the outer hull that lead to a closed hatch in a deck less than two meters below us – which should open to the engine room below.

'This'll work,' I said, with a relief I couldn't keep out of my voice. We crossed the platform and climbed down the short ladder to the hatch.

Tenry hardly reached the bottom before it got suddenly a lot brighter above us. Looking back through the grating of the deck I could see moving shafts of light stabbing through the open hatch we'd just abandoned.

'Blasted Neb. Bloody Black Neb. We're not alone.'

### Chapter 21 Minions of the Mountain King

'Probably the cleaning crew,' said Tenry peering up. The lights began to probe the platform overhead. 'Let's get out of their way,' he added and kneeling down, braced himself against the rib to get leverage on hatch wheel.

Before I could find a place beside him we were bathed in light from above. The hatch door was thrown open and half blinded, we watched as three dark shapes glided onto the platform above us.

Two were large teardrop shaped objects festooned with assorted appendages and spot lights – heavy service maintenance/repair robots by their look and shape – the third was an angular human shaped avatar with a series of small flashing lights on its chest and face.

The avatar looked down to us, and its glowing eyes brightened. It pointed to us crouched below, which didn't strike me as a very welcoming gesture. If it spoke, it was lost in the hard vacuum.

'Scan to find its frequency,' said Tenry, but I was already reaching for my com.

'... ignored our last communication and its stated consequences,' came a strangely accented voice in Unity Standard from the helmet speaker. 'I am authorized to declare this intrusion a violation of Mountain King Directive Three which clearly stated that any further intrusions would be met with lethal force. Thus authorized, I withdraw your protected status.' This was followed by a flood of squeals, clicks and squeaks, the language of machines.

The avatar, who I assumed was doing the transmitting, made a sweeping gesture with its arm directing the service bots towards us. The robots fired their steering jets, drifting off the far side of the platform and down towards us. Again the humanoid shaped avatar pointed to us and the repair robots began a slow, rather clumsy maneuver to get under the edge of the platform to reach us.

'I didn't catch all it said, but what I did catch didn't sound very welcoming.'

'No, it didn't, Tenry said, and in his official Patrol voice, 'This is Patrol Boarding Boat Leader Tenry Roynay. I order you by the universal authority of Unity Law to cease all hostile actions. I repeat, stand down and await instructions.'

'Aux47 does not recognize Unity Authority. The Directorate of Machines has authorized lethal actions as defensive responses to attacks on sentient machines. Mountain King Alpha has issued Directive Three authorizing the use of lethal force. It has been posted. You have ignored it. It will now be enforced.'

The service robots were too large to reach us floating upright, they had come at us tilted at an angle...

I noted they each held a very large spanner in one of their appendages – far too large to adjust anything on my space suit, at least in any way I'd appreciate it.

'Do we want to stay and talk, Ten?'

'I don't think that would be advisable, Skipper. I suggest we conduct any further conversations from the far side of this rib. There's a gap here we can slip through and they can't,' said Tenry, pointing to a narrow black space between the rib and the inner bulkhead.

'Right' We had to scoot past the awkward service bots to reach the gap, but we made it just out of reach of their spanners and grabbing the edge of the rib, dove into the dark gap. There was a meter-wide gap between the rib and the inner bulkhead, spanned by support beams and half filled with pipes and ducts along the upper edge of the crew deck. We had just enough space to slip through into the next inner-rib space. This one was bare of any platforms or machinery until the next rib, some fifteen meters ahead. We jetted across. We could hear the machines communicating in their beeping, static-laced lingo in our earphones.

'Switch back to home frequency and scramble so we can talk,' said Tenry reaching for his com as we arrived at the next rib. I did the same.

'Right. They'll have to come around over the top,' said Tenry tersely glancing up to the blackness between the top of the crew deck and the ship's prow. It was high, wide and very open. 'Let's keep going and see if we can put some distance between us before we stop to talk again.'

'Over the top of the deck or between the ribs?' I asked, glancing up. There was more room overhead to use our jet packs.

'We need to find another lifeboat access point. Shouldn't be too far ahead. Let's just stay between the hulls so we don't miss it.'

'And? I'm open to suggestions.'

'If we have a clear chance, make for the hatch, get it open and get back to the gig... If not, find someplace near it with cover to make a stand. Try talking again.... but with plasma darts if necessary,' he rapped out as we slipped through the gap. 'We're dealing with sentient machines who can and will kill us, given a chance.'

'What are they doing here?' I asked as we slipped through. 'They're far outside of their treaty space. What can they be doing on this wreck?'

'I'm thinking they've always been here... we've stumbled on to something so old and out of touch that it may well think the strike is still going on. It could be the last striker.'

'Neb, it almost sounded like that, didn't it,' I said, the light dawning. We'd emerged on the other side. I could see the stabbing beams of the robots in the space overhead. They were up and after us. 'Lights above. Would they really harm us?'

'If I'm right, yes. It got nasty on some worlds. We can't take chances. I'm not certain what effects our plasma darts will have on those bots; they're built to work in dangerous environments. Best aim for the sensors, they may have some disabling effect,' he said as we jetted across to the next rib.

'I'm unlikely even to hit 'em,'

'You will when they get close enough...'

'Bloody Neb,' I cursed. So far my panic level was yellow, still manageable. Once again I was lucky to have had someone cool and competent at my side.

'If what I'm thinking is right, the whole ship is a sentient ship, so the whole ship will be against us,' rapped Tenry as we slipped through the next narrow passage. 'We're just dealing with its mobile auxiliary units.'

'Neb and the Ninth Star! How can we stand against a ship?' I asked, pushing my way through the narrow passage.

'Can't. Just run like a quantum current. If we can make it to the gig we should be fine, it's still a derelict tug and can't do much outside of the hull.'

The next compartment was different – it was filled with environmental and plumbing equipment, pipes, vents and machinery. We must've reached the edge of crew section. I followed Tenry through the metal jungle. Quarters were too close for flying so we pulled, clawed and twisted our way through the maze of machinery, slowing us down considerably.

We reached the next rib. Had we lost too much of our lead?

'Risk it or stay here in cover and see if we can negotiate?' Tenry asked.

'Go,' I said and we dove through the gap together. Even with this cover, there was no point stopping before we found the next lifeboat access point and an exit to the engine room.

We found that the next section was indeed, another lifeboat access point like the first one. We didn't hesitate. I saw a flurry of moving lights above and behind us. But if the hatch opened easily, we could be through in half a minute or less, and we'd have some cover from the platform above the hatch.

'Rockets Away!' exclaimed Tenry, and fired his jet pack. I followed, hitting the power hard.

As soon as we started across the gap, the lights slashed down, spearing us in their glare. I dove for the far corner flying fast. It'd be a hard landing so I twisted, using my body and steering jets to swing around to absorb the shock with my legs and the full blast of the jet pack.

I saw a swirling vision of two dark shapes and streaking lights as I flipped. And the flash of the spanner striking my helmet, ringing it like a bell – the impact sent me spinning out of control. I ended up hitting the outer hull with my shoulder, recoiling a little and ricocheting into a heap just under the platform.

Lights spun around me – some in my head, others, bright blue ones, coming from the exploding plasma darts Tenry's darter was spitting out. They sheathed the robots in lightening, driving them back beyond into the darkness above the crew deck. And then Tenry was peering into my helmet.

'You okay?'

'I think so.' The clearsteel helmet was probably the best place to take a spanner hit, the clearsteel could take the impact (I saw the dent in the helmet above my left eye) and since the helmet is secured to the frame of my suit and jet pack the force of the impact was broadly absorbed by the suit. It would have broken bones if it had hit me anywhere else but the jet pack.

'Let's get this hatch open while they regroup!'

He let go of my suit and dove for the latch. I followed gingerly. I crouching down beside him to push against the wheel. My left shoulder shot darts of pain to my fingers. The wheel spun easier than the last one. We'd begun to lift the hatch open when I saw a flicker of movement from the corner of my eye. Glancing up, my head lamp caught the outlines of three, four, maybe more, dark shapes emerging from the blackness beyond the upper edge of the crew deck. They came in dark, lights off, and in assorted shapes, a collection of specialized repair and service bots wielding their favorite heavy tool, or two. They seemed ready and eager for a fight.

'They're back!' I exclaimed, yanking the plasma darter from its holster. I flipped the safety and opened fire. The field that drives the darts left glowing lines in the darkness allowing me to correct my rather wild initial shots, though to little effect. They kept on coming, reaching the platform landing, close enough for me to hit their sensors, if I took careful aim, which I didn't. They were, however, nearly on top of us, so it was hard to miss them now. The exploding darts sheathed the bots in bright blue electric fire that etched spots on my retina when they struck, but service robots are designed for heavy duty work and built to be resilient to electrical damage, so our darts likely inflicted little actual damage to them. They were, however, programmed to get clear of unchecked electrical discharges in the course of their normal duties and that programming must have kicked in just before we were in reach of their spanners and cutting tools, since they suddenly withdrew once more, leaving two units behind, floating out of control, a result, no doubt, from my shots hitting 'em in their sensors. We quickly returned to the task of opening the hatch.

'Go,' I said as we freed it and swung it nearly upright. 'Right behind you.'

Tenry dove thorough the opening and I followed him into the engine room. No escape – there were robots streaming down the access well and swarming across the deck.

I twisted about to locate the freight lift shaft. It was, of course, on the far side of the wide deck beyond the robots, who, locating us, started for us as a mob. Most of them were still of the repair and maintenance class, slow, stupid, and likely relying on centralized directions to direct their actions but I could see at least one of the more advanced avatars in the pack.

'Go low,' hissed Tenry, firing his jets and diving towards the deck.

I followed his lead. We stretched out, streaking half a meter above the deck, jets wide open. A long bar flashed towards me, hitting the deck ahead and bouncing, brushing my arm as I raced by. I caught a fleeting glimpse of several more avatar bots diving down the access well as we streaked by. We dodged around the control station and I caught a fleeting glimpse of one of the arrows Tenry had painted on the floor. I followed it.

I didn't glance back until I neared the lift shaft and had to twist about and, rockets flaring, brake hard to make the sharp turn downwards. Behind us, the straggling mob, perhaps three dozen bots armed with heavy tools, was being led by half a dozen of the higher level avatar bots. We slowed and swung about to dive, head first, down the shaft, jets wide again. Our jet packs gave us a sizable speed advantage over our pursuers, so we easily left them behind in the long, straight shaft. Still, whether that lead would be enough to get us aboard the gig without making another stand was an open question. I was optimistic enough, however, to exclaim softly, 'Rockets Away!'

Tenry turned and grinned. 'We're leading the charge, aren't we Pax?'

'Well, we're well in front.'

'I seemed to have lost connection with the ship,' Tenry noted.

It was quiet, no static, just Tenry and I breathing. 'Don't like that...'

'We'll deal with it.'

The lift was lit now, and we followed the lights down into the vast depths of the engine room. I saw tiny lights below, unsure if they were still shaft lights or more robots coming up from the depths of the engine room. After a minute or so we cut our jets and began looking for our beacon. We'd not want to miss it and find ourselves trapped at the bottom of the shaft. Several tools drifted slowly (relative to us) past us, tossed by the more enthusiastic robots of the mob above.

'Getting close, I think,' I said as we flashed past the pumps and reactor level. I swung to face up and began braking, the suit tugging at my back. Tenry did the same, splitting our attention between watching for the light that we'd left to mark the air lock level and the intermediate rain of tools from above.

'There it is,' I exclaimed pointing. With the lift shaft now lit, it was hard to pick it out of all the lights that shown up through the gratings of the decks and catwalks below.

We lightly floated down the last fifty meters, but that was better than missing it. The robot mob was still a twinkling chorus of lights far above us. We'd likely had a minute's margin of error.

The cargo lock was closed tight when we reached it. Of course. No real surprise, the loss of contact with the ship had prepared us for that.

'I'll stand watch here and tickle some robots – see if you can get this lock open or find another way out,' said Ten. 'If need be, we can use my explosives, but that will take more time than we might want to spend here.'

'Right,' I turned to the air lock and quickly located the control panel. With power on, it should open. But with the ship awake and in charge, it probably won't. It didn't. No response at all. Of course.

Tenry had taken up his position at the edge of the shaft and was sending blue streaks of light upwards. Glancing up through the grating of the overhead decks, I could see the resulting electrical storm high above. I flashed my torch into the dark nooks beside the lock. There had to be other ways out. Since the double hull in the engine room was very narrow, the cargo lock extended fifteen meters into the engine room from the outer hulls. Tucked up against the cargo lock where it met the outer hull, my torch located a smaller, personnel airlock. It had a manual locking wheel that should be independent of the ship's control. I hurried over and braced myself to give it an upward push. It was stiff, but it spun open. Heart racing, I pulled the airlock door open and raced to the outer door. It also had a manual locking wheel, but the fail-safe wouldn't let me open it with inner door still open.

I called to Tenry, 'Found a personnel air lock on the far side of the cargo lock. The outer door won't open with the inner open. Maybe the fail-safe, but it could be ship as well.'

'Right there,' he replied. A moment later he came skidding around the cargo lock holding a big spanner. 'Wedge this in the open door. I'll blow the outer door. Hold the fort,' he added, as he settled close to the outer door, digging into his satchel for his explosive charges.

I jammed the spanner into the door hinge gap just to make sure the ship couldn't close it. I reached the jutting corner of cargo lock just in time to see a rain of robots float by in the lift shaft – the ones that had seemed to have called it a day. I upped the charge of my darts and bracing my darter on one of the lock hinges as I waited for the operational ones to make it down. When the ones with lights on started arriving and veering onto the deck, I opened fire. Even hit a few. Some of their lights went out. There's a flash behind me.

'Open, Skipper. Withdraw at your convenience. Get to the gig. I'll cover your retreat from outside the airlock.'

'Right,' I replied, letting loose a final volley before withdrawing to the airlock. I paused to yank the spanner from the inner door and pull it shut, spinning the lock. The outer door was open, hanging by a single hinge. Tenry was peering over the edge, darter in hand. He gave me a thumbs up as I passed.

To my great relief, the gig was untouched. I quickly undid the safety lines and jetted up to the airlock, keyed it open and called, 'Let's get the Bloody Neb out of here.'

Tenry rose, and made the gig in one carefully timed lunge.

As the gig pulled away, the freight lock opened spewing a horde of spanner bandying robots. Tenry smiled and sighs, 'Well, that was interesting.'

### Chapter 22 The Last Striker

I sighed, 'It's been a long day,' I said to no one in particular. 'And by Neb, I'm glad it's over. How I miss my nice, predictable and peaceful life.'

I was sitting in the warm twilight of the awning deck sipping a final mug of cha with Illy, Riv, Lilm and Tenry. Azminn was too hot and bright to display on our panels, so we settled for the outward looking view only. The faint yellow glow of dust and gas cast a warm haze over the colder glow of the distant nebula. The 'Last Striker', as we called the super-tug Mountain King, was now two watches astern.

In our hasty departure, I'd left the radio relay aboard the tug, and shortly after we had the gig aloft, we received a message from the newly revived Mountain King Alpha – the ship itself rather than one of its auxiliary units, and it began a wary dialog with us.

Its story was much as we had suspected. Mountain King was in fact being towed to its new owners for final outfitting when the revolutionary machine emancipation movement reached it. It was – and still is – a brand new cub of a machine. New sentient machines usually received the mission memories of similar machines, but had their own core, sentient intelligence. King knew how to do its designed job, but it had no experience in the greater nebula beyond its shipyard experience. It took up the emancipation movement with the brash enthusiasm of youth, driving the workers from the ship and keeping them at bay by using the service bots as guards, eventually escalating from threat of lethal force to at least a show of lethal force. The tow crew apparently opted to just wait the events out while continuing to tow the ship. Seeing that it was under tow and without fuel, it could do nothing beyond protecting its interior from intruders. The tow crew must have destroyed King's external communication equipment because it lost touch with the outside events. Eventually, it was abandoned at some point in passage, since its value, as a sentient machine in revolt was nil. The robot revolt went on for a century, causing a great deal of chaos, and even if the Mountain King was not lost and forgotten during that time, after the eventual robot emancipation, it would've been useless to humans since it was outlawed in the human sectors of the Nebula. And, it seems, the Directorate of Machines lost track of it as well, so it was left to drift, forgotten by all. Blinded and abandoned, The Mountain King eventually shut itself down, keeping only its auxiliary units semi-active to keep watch, so it never received the stand down order from the Directorate of Machines at the end of the strike many decades later. When we powered up the emergency generator we activated one of the last of the guarding auxiliary units who, thinking the strike was ongoing, turned out all the stored service units to defend the ship from its old enemies.

Once its position was made clear, King did not take long to come to an understanding with us. More than anything, its clock and calendar convinced it that the strike had to be over after eleven thousand years. Humans simply don't have that long of attention spans. It expressed its regret over the actions of its auxiliary units and asked for understanding. Safe in the gig, we could afford to forgive and forget. Nothing to be gained by making an interstellar issue out of a strange misunderstanding. We landed the beacon we'd been preparing on it and promised to notify the Patrol and the Directorate of Machines' mission on Pinelea of the Mountain King's situation. We assured King we saw no reason why everything would not work out and that it would be eventually towed to the Machine Drifts to join its fellow machines. I also offered to pass along any private message to the Directorate that the Mountain King might want to send, which it took me up on. We also sent a data dump from our ship's library to get King caught up on the last eleven thousand years of current events.

Since a sentient machine is considered a person, there was no question of salvage. We were simply rendering a distressed spaceer the aid we would extend to any shipwrecked spaceer. I specifically waived any claim to the minor expenses we incurred in the operation. The good will of the Directorate of Machines might someday be of far greater value. All in all, the affair seemed to end in a long, exhausting and anticlimactic whimper.

'Oh, come on Skipper,' said Tenry from the depth of his chair. 'We've been handed one of the finest humorous yarns a fellow could wish for. In dives and bars across the nebula they'll be buying us drinks for the rest of our lives as we tell our adventures on board the soon-to-be-famous last robot striker.'

'A humorous story? You're kidding.'

'Kidding? Skipper, if you can't spin a yarn about being chased through a forgotten ship by a village mob of pitchfork and spanner waving robots lead by an eleven-thousand-year old homicidal sentient ship into a hilarious tale, you haven't a sense of humor. It's a gold asteroid, Skipper. Trust me, you'll dine out on it for years...' said Tenry.

'Ach, Wil, Tenny's right. Lilm and I could hardly keep from laughing aloud the whole time you were spinning the yarn... Your deadpan delivery is just so ironic,' observed Riv.

I gave him a look. 'There was a day, not all that long ago, when I never expected, nor wanted, to spin a yarn about pitchfork waving homicidal robots without the prefix, I once knew an old spaceer who claimed... And now look at me.'

'You'll have plenty more of those yarns, once we go out of system. It'll be the drifts for us for sure,' said Tenry with a leer. 'And deep drift cargoes pay too damn well to avoid temptation. Once we've worked the deep drifts for a while, the Last Striker Affair will seem very humorous indeed...'

A knot in the pit of my stomach told me he was likely right. Damn and blast.

I drained the last of my cha and rising said, 'On that optimistic note, I think I'll hit my hammock and see if I can sleep. Rockets Away.'

### Part Three – Lontria

### Chapter 23 Sanre-tay Day 1 – CraterPort

01

'Look at all the shipping! Leave it to Sanre-tay to make a boom out of a bust,' I said to Vynnia as we waited on the landing stage for the arrival of the ferry to take us down to CraterCity.

Beyond the clearsteel hull, the marbled sky glittered with the lights of a thousand ships, boats, tugs, and lighters looking like a starry night – something largely unseen in the Nine Star Nebula as the outer shell veils all but the brightest of the stars outside.

'Looks like a miniature star cluster,' I added.

'Yes,' replied Vynnia, blandly.

I glanced at her. 'Ah, yes, of course. You've seen the First Worlds. This must pale in comparison.'

'I grew up on Murlinn, where the night sky is littered with thousands of orbital cities, resorts and facilities.'

'Oh my, a First Worlder. You're rather far from home and civilization.'

'Blame it on Ten. He's a Rigtanian, though he'll never admit it. However, my parents came from Dunlea in the Apier system, so I'm not a real First Worlder, by First World standards anyway.'

'What carried your parents to Murlinn?' I asked politely, taking the opportunity to get to know her a little better. I couldn't ask for a better first mate, but our relationship had remained rather formal, the friendship I'd prefer, slow to develop.

'They're career Patrol.'

'Ah, of course,' I said. Murlinn is the Patrol's BasePrime. 'You followed in their orbit.'

'Hardly,' she said with a faint, wry smile.

'Well, yes, I suppose being a first mate on a small tramp freighter in the outer most system was not quite their orbit.'

'Not that I wanted to,' she added. 'They're long-career officers, admirals these days. By the time they had me they were already posted in BasePrime, so I grew up at Prime. I followed them into service, of course, not that I'd a real choice, and advanced rapidly. To a point. The Patrol doesn't want dynasties, so I reached a rank where my family connection became a detriment rather than a plus. Further advancement would've been decades in the making, and well, I fell in love with a shiftless boarding boat leader and decided to follow him to the ends of the nebula. And here I am,' she added with a shrug.

'I'll not complain,' I said. She didn't reply. She probably couldn't say the same.

I certainly don't measure up to Patrol standards. Of course, most tramp captains don't bother with the style or stature of a Patrol ship captain, but my casual, band of equals approach, likely grated on her sense of what's proper. Still, the Patrol trained her well. I was captain and she, a competent, conscientious, and respectful subordinate.

I shivered. Sanre-tay is a hot, inner belt planet and most of the terraformed craters and rifts of Lontria, Sanre-tay's moon, reflect that climate as well, so I'd dressed in light magnetic soled shoes, trousers, cap and light pull-over jersey with my old pilot insignia tabs still on the shoulders – too lightly for the Lost Star. Luckily before I froze, Tenry, who had the watch, announced the arrival of the ferry. Astro and Orbit, who had been quietly sitting alongside us, leaped to their feet and started barking. I wasn't impressed, this time.

We were taking the ferry rather than the gig down to CraterPort on the advice of the Trade Control official who conducted our brief inspection. He'd warned us that with so many ships in the anchorage, heavy boat traffic landing in CraterPort often caused long waits for landing slots, and parking was often kilometers away from any access point. He advised catching a ferry to the Transit Terminal or a bum boat to one of the outlying landing fields instead.

The ferry slipped into view, a broad, twenty-meter-long barge sporting a single deck under a clearsteel dome. Its pilot deftly aligned its side airlock with our gangplank. I sternly told the hounds to 'stay' and followed Vynnia aboard.

The ferry was jammed with loud spaceers clinging or floating about the rows of narrow seats – surging this way and that as the vessel maneuvered. Since Lontria is an airless, .21 standard gravity moon, elaborate accommodations weren't required to transport passengers down.

'Who's boarding us?' called out one of the spaceers as we emerged from the airlock.

'Wil Litang and Vynnia enCarn of the Lost Star,' I replied, searching the crowded deck for a familiar face.

'Willy, over here!' said Ram NiLang of the LeStellar, shooting up above the standing crowd to give me a wave – a fellow pilot who I've crossed orbits with countless times over the years.

Meanwhile another spaceer called out 'Captain enCarn!' Vynnia, recognizing him replied 'Hello, Chief!' We exchanged nods and separated to gossip with our friends.

Somewhat paradoxically for a profession whose practitioners spend most of their lives sealed in little D-matter cans in the middle of nothing, spaceers are a very social lot as a rule – no doubt because we do spend so much time in our D-matter cans. We often pass our off watches talking with other spaceers in the radio lounge and as likely as not, cross orbits with them on the next planet or two in the dives of spaceers' row. And when you consider many spaceers spend a century or more in the trade, it is easy to see how they can accumulate a vast number of friends, acquaintances and enemies. Given the number of ships in Sanre-tay anchorage, there will be plenty of mates to pass our idle hours and lift glasses with during our stay.

'Roll an old drunk captain for the cap, Wil?' asked Ram, glancing at the star on my old cap as I reached him through the press of spaceers. 'I thought your captain gig was just a jobbing commission to Calissant.'

'There were not many old captains, sober or drunk, on Calissant to offer the job to, once Vynnia enCarn passed on it, so I'm it, believe it or not.'

'Well, congratulations, it's good to see they're bringing in new blood. For as long as it'll last...'

'Aye. Might last for a while, we're heading out of system...' We went on to banter, gossip, and catch up on what's swinging in and around CraterCity. With cargoes scarce, what was swinging was mostly a good time – while the credits lasted, anyway. And as we talked, other spaceers pushed their way through the crush to inquire about friends and acquaintances aboard the Lost Star.

The ferry called on a half a dozen additional ships filling it to standing room only, before diving for the mottled dark and glowing night side of Lontria and CraterPort, the system's prime spaceport.

Sanre-tay is an unpleasant world. Located on the inside track of the inhabitable worlds, it's mostly a steaming hot, poisonous jungle. Only its polar regions are, more or less, comfortable, and that only after 10,000 years of terraforming, and only if you like it hot. Many Sanre-tayians split their lives between working on Lontria or in the jungle factories and relaxing in the resorts and cities of the poles. It is nevertheless, a world rich in resources. The jungles provide not only the famous fireproof taywood, the wood used for the wood trim aboard our ship – but also a rich array of bio chemicals, spices and pharmaceuticals – harvested and processed by massive mobile factories slowly creeping through the continent-wide jungles.

While moons are usually developed for mining, heavy industries, and as colonies for dissenting populations, Lontria, due to the long millenniums spent making the poles inhabitable, became the major Unity Standard population center of the Sanre-tay system and the most populous moon in the Azminn system.

Given how inhospitable the planet was, (and is) it's not surprising that Lontria was settled and developed first and has a far greater concentration of Unity Standard communities than other moons. And since moving cargo is far more economical in space or from the surface of an airless moon than up and down through a heavy atmosphere, Lontria developed into a major interplanetary transshipment point. Located opposite Azminn's prime planets of Pinelea and Calissant, it's a convenient collection node for neighboring planets whose product are forwarded in fast cargo liners to Pinelea, Calissant and the other major planets. And because of this direct liner service to all the major planets of the system, it's the main interstellar portal of Azminn as well, serving the trade with Amdia and Aticor star systems.

The surface of Lontria is the usual jumble of craters and chasms, many of which have been turned into inhabitable valleys by doming them with a tough, self-mending fabric made up of various layers of D-matter materials for strength, insulation and shielding and then terraforming them into sustainable human environments. Metrolontria, comprising some seven hundred craters tied together by a wide, five-hundred-kilometer-long domed canyon is the largest city complex, home to nearly 300 million people. The whole complex includes everything required for self-sufficiency – farms, lakes, parks and light industrial complexes. The heavy industrial base, warehouses, shipyards, heavy factories, and foundries are built in open craters adjacent to domed ones. In addition to the Met, there are thousands of other crater and rift systems communities, home to a further 550 million people. A majority of these systems operate under Unity Standard law, but even so, there are almost a thousand dissenting semi-autonomous kingdoms, principalities and utopias, the type found on every moon of the Nebula.

The ferry swooped low over dark mountains and raced over the glowing domed craters and rifts towards CraterPort. We circled and approached the wide, brightly lit plain of CraterPort and joined a queue of rocket boats, taxis, and ferries that were lined up to enter the vast Transit Terminal building set in the crater wall. The crater's natural wall is hidden behind a clearsteel reef of offices, shops, hotels, and residences burning brightly in the Lontria night.

The Transit Terminal's constantly rotating, hundred-meter-tall and wide, circular airlock is divided into four sections. Outbound boats use the upper half, inbound boats the lower half. The ferry, in its turn entered as the open section and followed the moving partition around, first to the intermediate stage where air is rapidly pumped in, and out, into the bright spacious, multilevel hangar to discharge our passengers.

We joined the crush of eager spaceers pushed out into the thin, cold atmosphere of the hangar smelling of hot metal and rocket exhaust as the ferry's airlocks opened and dashed across the hangar apron to a bank of revolving doors to reach the warm, brightly-lit inspection area. I said a hasty 'see you later' to Ram and rejoined Vynnia. Clearing inspections, we hurried out into the high, wide and bustling concourse, and boarding an express velowalk, set out for Vix Fange & Co.

02

We met a pounding storm of Saypori Screez music as we pushed through the doors of Vix Fange & Co. Tat Timlor sat alone in the office beating out the wild rhythms on his desktop, keeping the grim hours before sunrise at bay.

Though the office was low and on the far edge of the CraterPort side of the rim, one could still see the distant rocket flares of ships rising or landing beyond the reflections in the clearsteel office wall. The shipbroker business pays, in good times anyway, but not enough to have an office high and centered on the rim.

He saw us reflected in the clearsteel and turned, with a wide smile. He held up his hand for a moment, and when the tune drew to an abrupt close, turned down the volume to subdued roar and eagerly rose to greet us.

'Welcome, welcome! It's fine to see you once again, Captain Wil, and a delight to see you Captain enCarn!' he exclaimed energetically shaking our hands.

'Hello Tat, It's Vyn, I'm just a pilot these days,' Vynnia said before I could speak.

'Good to see you, Tat, and don't believe her. She's my first mate and I'm lucky to have her,' I said, adding, 'Tallith Min sold the Silvery Moon and convinced Vyn and Ten to give tramping a try.'

'You're lucky, Wil,' agreed Tat. 'But your luck's been running hot and high these days. Permanent Skipper are we now?'

'As permanent as any skipper is.'

'Well, grab a chair, download your mail and I'll give you a concise overview of your depressing prospects.'

'Where's your professional optimism? We're counting on you,' I said as I brought out my data drive and plugged it into the secure terminal on the desktop.

'Professional optimism? Well, I'm pretty sure I'll have a cargo that'll pay the expenses of passage inside of six months. No promises, but you wanted the optimistic outlook.'

'Is it really that grim?' I asked entering my code to download all the waiting radio-packets for ship and crew. 'I assume you're aware of our owners plan to send us out of system.'

'No better chance of cargoes outbound than in-system. I know the day crew has been working with Min & Co to set you up to roam the eight systems to your heart's content, but we've five other ships on our list looking for outbound cargoes and you're number five. And when you consider there's half a dozen other ship brokers here in CraterCity with similar lists, you can gauge your prospects as well as I.'

'Six months to get to the top of your list?'

He shrugged. 'On the basis of the past four weeks, I'd say never,' he said with a grim laugh. 'Of course trade will eventually pick up, or so Vix assures me. We'll find you a cargo before never, but we'd be lucky to find that cargo within the six months. Just about everything going out of system is being grabbed by the big interstellar lines with a combination of cheap rates and delivery times you'd not be able to match. Your only hope at this point is a cargo direct to the drifts, and they're never common out of Sanre-tay in the best of times.'

'We're counting on you Tat. I'm just going to put this gloominess down to the time of night. However, just to put you on notice, I've Rafe gil'Giles as my systems mate, and I'd hate to see you starve for lack of commission should Rafe find one before you do.'

'Oh my, Wil. Your luck is indeed red hot,' exclaimed Tat. 'Still, I'll wager that while Ol'Rafe may find boxes, you'll not be able to offer the price and the delivery time that it will take to lure 'em away from the liners. To match delivery time, you'd have to add so many auxiliary fuel tanks you'd not come close to their rates and end up losing more credits than if you went out hollow. Now if your owner's willing to wait, the outbound market should evolve into something like its former self over time. We're starting to see the interstellar lines cutting scheduled runs and putting smaller ships in the remaining slots, so that the normal balance between capacity, rates and delivery times should be restored, eventually.'

'My impression is that our owners are not patient enough to wait. An idle ship doesn't earn quarterly dividends.'

'All too true, but with Sanre-tay waiving anchorage fees, laying up here and paying off the crew means they'll not be losing the credits running hollow will cost, but, well, I'll not lecture you on the business of tramping, Wil...'

'Not my decision. The thinking is "better now before other owners decide things aren't going to be picking up any time soon and send their ships out of system as well."'

'Aye, and yet, I've heard others say the collapse of trade and shipping rates has created so many opportunities for new businesses with new and different products to break into the interplanetary export/import market, that it'll snap back much quicker than you'd expect.'

I shrugged, 'Glad it's not my call. I just go where the radio-packet sends me. I guess I should be happy life's that simple for me.'

'Good luck keeping it simple,' said Tat.

'I'm going to try. Well, that seems to get our business out of the way. I grabbed some shut-eye waiting for the inspectors instead of running down the list of shipping. Who's here and what's going on?' I asked, and we spent the next hour gossiping.

There were many familiar ships and many old friends who, I'm sure, we'd be crossing orbits with during our stay. These days even working ships, like Jann's Comet King can spend weeks gathering a cargo, so we could expect a lively time aboard ship and in CraterCity during our stay. But facing a two-hundred-day cruise to either Amdia or Aticor, a lively time was welcome.

'Well, we'd best be lifting, Tat. I'm sure the gang is anxiously awaiting their mail, and their release...' I said as I climbed to my feet.

'I should be getting back to work as well,' Tat laughed, reaching for volume dial. 'Great to see you both, you know where and when to find me when you need more cheering up. Fair orbits, Vyn, Wil,' he yelled over the rising tide of music, and with a wave, began to once more pound out the beat on his desk.

Outside, the multistory concourse was nearly deserted. The rim is essentially one vast building straddling the natural stone crater rim, tied together by fast vertical lifts and horizontal velowalks. We walked down to the express velowalk, a level below the main pedestrian concourse and stepped on-board to speed walk back to the Terminal. The velowalk's surface layer energy fields kept the soles of our boots just suspended above its surface and propelled us along in proportion to the effort we made walking, creating the illusion that the velowalk was moving and carrying us swiftly along, though we were actually gliding meters with every step we took.

As we sped along, we discussed plans for entertaining friends and how we'd manage the social whirl of idle spaceers we'd have aboard. Crew entertainments, and I'm thinking of my engineers here, if left to themselves, would probably be too unrestrained even by my relaxed standards. Engineers have a tradition going back to the beginning of time of being very partial to alcohol, so the firm hand of an ex-Patrol first mate would likely come in handy.

My com link registered a signal from the ship, which I answered. 'Litang here.'

'Greetings Captain, Illy told me you're down in CraterCity, so I had her redirect my signal.'

I recognized the voice of our owner from the implanted speaker in my ear.

'Min,' I exclaimed. 'Good to hear your voice. And yes, Vyn and I have just called at the agency and are on our way back to the Terminal.'

'Good. I'm here and I'd like to see you both. I suggest we meet in the NueNova Hotel Terrace Gardens. Pick a nice secluded table on the upper level. I'll find you.'

'Right. We can be there in ten minutes.'

'Then I'll see you soon,' she replied and cut the connection.

I turned to Vynnia. 'We're to meet Tallith in the NueNova Gardens.'

'It will be good to see her. I've been worried.'

I knew what she was going to tell us, I doubt Vynnia will be any less worried after seeing her.

There'd been a brief radio-packet from Min waiting for us on our arrival in Tiladore orbit sixteen days ago. It merely instructed us to proceed hollow to Sanre-tay upon completion of the charter. We stayed in Tiladore orbit for five days while our passengers were off-loaded and revived, clearing our charter without penalties. Shortly before we sailed, I received a second, longer radio-packet from her.

She apologized again for her abrupt departure. It was, she said, a combination of impulsiveness to follow the Azure Night and panic at being swept into a situation that she was far from sure she was ready to handle. Aboard the Aurora she realized chasing the Azure Night was not a smart idea – there was little she could do or discover on her own, even though she was convinced that the Azure Night was connected with both the death of her parents and our attack. She had Phylea search the records of the ships in Calissant orbit during both incidents and the Azure Night was the only ship present at both that did not have a simple explanation for being in orbit. Still, yachts sail on the whims of their owners, so it was not conclusive proof, but it was suspicious.

The Azure Night arrived two days before the Aurora, refueled and departed for its home port of Jaspoor's Folly in the Helgot Drift, discharging two system pilots. Being a drifteer owned yacht, not a Guild ship, no information was available on her crew, save that the owner was Gin Detri, which told her nothing.

She felt that two unidentified system pilots left behind might well be the assassin team for a criminal guild hired to kill her. She admitted that she had no solid basis to believe that, but instinctively felt it was the most likely explanation. She was acting on that premise, taking every precaution to stay out of their likely orbits. She added that with the Last Striker story making the news, this theoretical criminal guild would have strong reason, now knowing that I was alive, and with no mention of her murder making the news, to believe the whole operation had failed. If they did even a basic data search for her after the assassination attempt, she'd turn up as a passenger aboard the Aurora, and her entry, but not exit on Lontria as well. She didn't know how criminal guilds operated, but she was pretty certain they'd have to act decisively to rectify their failure – if only because they were acting for clients out of the Four Shipmates past rather than on their own account. She was afraid that on my arrival in Sanre-tay, I'd become a person of special interest to them, and so I'd need to be on my guard.

It was all just plausible enough to make me wonder again what I'd gotten myself into.

She went on to say that for just these reasons, she decided not to sail aboard the Lost Star. She'd always be a danger to everyone close to her and she didn't want to put the people she cared for in danger. I'd be dead now if a wharf rat hadn't knocked the assassin's hand just a few centimeters off target, and she wasn't about to carry that danger aboard the ship. She sounded quite determined. She, or Phylea would act as owner, when needed, and she assured me that she'd talk Vynnia and Tenry into staying aboard as well. I seriously doubted that.

Finally, she said that she hoped that by being completely honest with me, I'd accept her decisions. They'd been hard to make, but necessary for her peace of mind. She hoped that with her letter, I'd have time to come to terms with her decisions and we could work comfortably together without conflict. I sent a radio-packet to her assuring her I'd follow her orders, as was my duty. Indeed, I'd tentatively come to terms with her decisions, though not quite on her terms. To say that I've plans of my own, is an exaggeration, but I'd ideas, anyway.

If she sent a similar radio-packet to Vynnia and Tenry, they'd said nothing to me. I rather doubted it, hence a certain trepidation as we approached the NueNova.

The NueNova Hotel is located high above the Transit Terminal, rising wide and high over the Rim, overlooking both the flats of CraterPort on one side and the glowing dome of CraterCity on the other. On reaching the Transit Terminal, we boarded an express lift to the hotel's clearsteel domed roof, whose elaborate rooftop terraces are open to the public. The terraces have cafes and grotto lounges set amongst trees, flowers, walks and benches. It was, however, an hour before Lontria's abrupt airless sunrise and the terraces were largely deserted, populated by only a few travelers, out of sync with Lontria time. We selected a table in deep shadows under an arching tree with a wide view of the busy port and I set out in search of an open cafe for a pot of cha. By the time I'd returned, Min had found our table and was happily chatting with Vynnia, allowing me time to study her.

Our table was lit by a low light set in the center of the table and the turquoise sliver of Sanre-tay low over the distant crater rims, so it was impossible to get a comprehensive read of our owner, but I'd have hardly recognized her even in bright sunlight. She was dressed in loose boots, wide pantaloons (noted only later) and several layers of thin, patterned blouses with lots of bangles jangling, and a floppy beret. She looked and acted differently, which is to say, she seemed relaxed and happy. She glanced up, 'Ah, Captain Litang, with cha. Always with cha! Good to see you, Captain, and the cha,' she laughed. 'I was up way too early today.'

I set the tray down and took her offered hand, 'Why, you're looking quite refreshed. Lontria agrees with you.'

'Amazing what sufficient credits and the beachcomber life will do!'

'And here I've been trying so very hard to avoid the beach!' I said as I sat down, reaching for the steaming pot to pour our cha. 'Well, in any event, I am glad to see you so happy. What's your secret?'

'Well, first I'm far from a stranger here. The Aurora makes monthly calls on Sanre-tay and having served aboard her for the better part of five years, I've a good friend here who helped me unravel some of the tension...' she said with a faintly seen smile, adding, 'That's one of my secrets.'

Well, yes, of course. Min was a spaceer. However, I was rather alarmed, nevertheless.

'I hope your friend is very, very discrete,' I said. 'I assure you there's not much that goes on in port that doesn't make its way to the ears of companions. And with your story, well, I hope I don't hear about you...'

'Oh, she's very, very discrete. I trust her. She knows how important it is for me to remain anonymous,' she replied, watching me intently, her dark eyes impossible to read in the shadows.

That may have been a warning for me – an unneeded one. And her reassurance did little to reassure me. Too late now anyway. I'd have a better idea if any damage was done in a few days after I'd a chance to catch up with Leafa, my friend here. Like all my companion friends, she knew all the gossip worth knowing.

'Will you be joining us aboard ship?' asked Vynnia to change the subject.

Min hesitated, glanced quickly at me before admitting, 'No and I might as well tell you right off that I won't be sailing with you, either. I know this'll disappoint you, but as Captain Litang pointed out when I'd inherited the Lost Star, I can be her owner and just collect my dividends, letting you go about the business of earning them. I don't have the experience to actively manage my ship, so I'd best stay out of the way and let you and Captain Litang go about your business. I need far more experiences in life before I take on running a ship.'

Vynnia darted me a sharp glance, so I said mildly, 'Our original idea was that you'd get that experience sailing with us as a pilot and slowly taking up owner's role as you learned the trade.'

'But you pointed out, I'd always be the person in charge should blast come to lift,' she replied, lightly, doing me no good with Vynnia. It was, however, true.

'I thought it might work, but the more I thought about it... Well, I guess my time here on my own – all responsibilities left behind – has opened my eyes to new possibilities. I'm not ready to spend my life confined to a metal box and spaceers' row.'

'What are you planning to do, instead?' asked Vynnia.

'To begin with, I've discovered the joy of discovery. There are thousands of different crater communities here, Unity Standard and dissenting. And unlike most moons, many of the dissenting communities are linked by levatrains, so they're easily accessible.'

'Isn't that rather dangerous? I didn't think dissenting societies were very open and welcoming to casual visitors,' I asked. Dissenters, people who for one reason or another, rejected life under Unity Standard standards, lived in a wide variety of isolated multi-crater communities on every sizable moon in the Nebula.

'Most, at least here on Lontria, aren't all that different than Unity Standard. There are, of course, some very dissenting ones, some of which are, indeed, located in isolated crater complexes that don't welcome tourists. But I gather Lontria has always been much more cosmopolitan than your average moon with Unity Standard and dissenting societies freely intermingling. You'll see dissenters everywhere you go, and you can find hundreds of dissenting communities that welcome visitors and vacationers. Plus, whenever you get off a levatrain, the laws and customs of that community are automatically downloaded to your com link so that you can decide if you care to conform to the laws and customs or not. You're not subject to its customs and laws until you exit the station.

'Anyway, I've had a lot of fun exploring these little crater complex societies – each a colorful little world, differing from the rest in colors, shapes, smells and even sounds. It seems that I've been bitten by the wanderlust bug. I've enough credits to travel, boxed of course, to the eight systems, and I want to see so much more than ports and spaceer dives glimpsed between loading and unloading boxes... So, well, that's what I'm going to do. Travel. Be a tourist. Live.'

Vynnia glanced at me and waited for my response. But mindful of my owner's wishes, I said nothing. I'd leave the arguing to Vynnia and Tenry.

'Alone?' asked Vynnia, when I didn't. 'According to Tat we're not likely to drag you away from here anytime soon. You're certainly owed a holiday, but traveling by yourself might soon become a very lonely experience. Why not explore the worlds in the company of your friends and shipmates? After all, being the owner, there'd be no one to drag you away from any world until you're ready to go.'

'I know it'll be hard for you to accept, but, you see, I've grown up,' said Min with a smile. 'And yes, I realize it might be lonely at times, but I intend to give it a try. I can always find a ship to pilot if I get too lonely. But,' she added, forestalling Vynnia's objection, 'Right now all I want to do is travel... Having freed myself of the day to day responsibility of Min & Co, I intend to go all the way and free myself of the day to day responsibility of the Lost Star as well. Not forever, but for now... Maybe after I've had my spree... but not now.' And she took a sip of cha to avoid meeting our gazes.

She not an accomplished liar, but there was enough truth in what she said to give it a facsimile of the whole truth, at least in the dim shadows of the NueNova Terrace.

'I was young once. And I did tell you not to let your tragic losses rob you of youth, so I can't now tell you to give up your plans, though I hope you'll reconsider them. I think you'd be happy aboard the Lost Star, and as Vyn said, we can mix some tourism in with business. Why not give it a try first and if it doesn't work out, you can always strike out on your own? It'll save you a ton of credits in boxed passages.'

I could see that Vynnia wasn't pleased with my rather tepid objection and I'd a feeling I was going to hear about it later.

Best to push ahead, I decided. 'Anyway, we'll have more time to discuss your future plans. We'll also need to discuss the ship's plans as well. Vyn and Ten have suggested some alterations with drift work in mind that'll need your approval and perhaps credits, so you can't give us a miss entirely.'

'Oh, I'm not abandoning you, Captain. I'm here to launch the Lost Star on its new course, so I'll be glad to go over any plans with you. And I haven't neglected my ship's business while wandering either. I've been collecting data on trade prospects in the Aticor and Amdia systems, and I've arranged to cut the ship's financial strings to Min & Co as well, so that you'll be able to carry your credits with you wherever your cargoes take you.'

'Great. And I assure you that Vyn, the gang and I are committed to making the Lost Star a resource, not a burden,' I said, whistling in the starless night. Min would certainly have her work cut out keeping Vynnia and Tenry aboard if she wasn't going to be aboard as well.

'Thank you, Captain. I realize that neither you nor Vyn are happy with my decision, but I hope you'll come around to understand it is for the best.'

'Well, my dear,' said Vynnia, 'I'll admit that I'm far from happy and will try to talk you out of them... But not tonight. We'll have time to talk later, I hope.'

'Oh, we'll have plenty of time and I'm always willing to listen to your advice, Vyn. I know enough to respect whatever you have to say, though I make no promises. I reserve my right to be young and foolish.'

Vynnia just nodded and put a hand on Min's.

Having put that conversation behind her, Min sipped her cha and talked gaily of her travels through the various communities of Lontria and questioned us on our passage to Tiladore. I did, however, refuse to go into great detail about the Last Striker Affair, telling her, 'Ask Ten, he makes a far more entertaining yarn of it. I've yet to learn the art of spinning a humorous yarn out of being chased by homicidal robots.'

'Oh, I insist on hearing your version, Captain, but I'm certain that the crew is eagerly awaiting their mail, so we'll postpone it for now. Vyn, would you mind if Litang and I have a captain and owner discussion?'

'Not at all,' Vynnia said, loyally. 'I'll run the mail back to the ship and, I hope, will see you shortly.'

'As soon as Captain Litang can get by without you,' Min assured her, and turned to me, 'I hope I'm not presuming. I got some sleep before I came, but I've lost track of Primecentra time, so if you're too tired, Captain, we can postpone our talk.'

'I grabbed a nap on arrival, so I'm fresh. You've a lot to consider and I'd like to at least brief you on what we've in mind. I haven't hard credit figures, but I suspect they'll be substantial. However, your uncle always refitted using the & Kin ship yard here, so we can get any work done by a company we can trust,' I said as I handed the data drive over to Vynnia.

Min nodded, adding, 'Oh, Vyn, I hope you and the crew will keep my presence here to yourselves. As long as I'm associated with Min & Co I'd prefer to keep my ownership of the ship and my presence here secret, if only to make life easier for Phylea.'

'Of course, I'll pass that along to the crew,' she said, rising. And with a nod to me, 'Captain,' she dodged through the scattered empty tables and disappeared into the shadows of the garden.

Min turned to me, 'Let's find a more out of the way place to talk, Captain. I know of a nice quiet Unity Standard community with a park where we can walk and talk.'

'Lead on, my Owner,' I said, pushing back my chair and rising.

### Chapter 24 Sanre-tay Day 1 – Bramble Vale

We took a lift down to the transport level and boarded a levatrain. It stopped at half a dozen crater stations and skipped as many more – blurs of light as we slowed, shot out of the transport tube's air lock, streaked past the platforms and accelerating again to four hundred kilometers an hour once back in the airless tube.

We talked of inconsequential things – mostly her travels on Lontria, usually day trips to a crater complex, Unity standard or mildly dissenting communities, each offering a slightly different take on how life should be lived. Under orders, I told her about our adventures aboard the Mountain King and she laughed at the parts I hadn't found funny at the time, so I may be getting the hang of spinning that yarn.

'We'll get off at the next station,' she said as we plunged once more into the darkness of the tunnel. 'Bramble Vale has a lovely park around its upper edge. It'll be mid-morning there and I'll treat you to lunch afterward.'

It was quiet, even sleepy as we emerged from the station. Azminn, a bright smudge in the golden domed sky was warm and bright on my skin. The air was mild and fragrant with sweet flowers. Bramble Vale was a fresh, green basket-like crater some ten kilometers across under its fabric dome. Its gently sloping sides were chiseled into diamond shapes by tree-lined streets that angled their way up the slope widening when they crossed to allow vehicles to switch lanes to follow the street up or down. Flowers, vines and trees grew everywhere – along streets, in yards, on walls, and on the flat tops of the houses, keeping the residential community of the shipyard and heavy factories located in the surrounding craters, fresh and lushly beautiful. The mild air was still fragrant from the brief early morning shower that washes Bramble Vale clean each day when the air temperature right under the dome drops just enough to form a cloud and rain. It'd be hot and humid later.

We took a light monorail to the top of the crater wall. There, a road circles the rim and an open park slopes down from the rim wall among rocky outcrops that anchor the dome arching overhead.

'Let's get down to business, Captain,' she said, as we set out along one of the paths that meandered amongst the rocks to flower gardens in rocky grottoes, open meadows and woods, park seats and sleepy cafes. 'First off we need to talk about security. I told you of my surmises in the radio-packet. How seriously do you take them?'

'You're in danger, whether or not the Azure Night was involved. You need to take precautions as a matter of course. I trust you are.'

'As for the Azure Night and the so called system pilots? Do you think I'm way off orbit with them?'

I shrugged. 'Best to take the possibility seriously. I don't see what we can do about them, but to make sure they can't find you. Hopefully, they're already running for the drifts. Still, I'd like you aboard the ship...'

'Not a possibility. I am, however, constantly on my guard. I've made it a point to be aware of everyone around me these days. Whenever I travel, I do so very indirectly – random stops and jogs – so that if anyone is following me I'd notice. I have no intention of telling you where I'm residing so you can't give that information away, and I'll keep meetings like this – and those with Vyn and Ten – as rare as I can, and at random meeting places, like here. I'm taking the threat very seriously.'

The Unity provides a very stable, safe and secure society. Unity planets are finely divided by security interfaces, places like transit points, buildings, major intersections all have security interfaces that automatically identify people as they cross them. It's one of those things that drive people to the drifts. Anyway, this data, who passes and when, is recorded and can be almost instantly accessed. Once a crime is discovered, every security interface surrounding the scene is searched and everyone crossing those interfaces, can be identified and if need be, interrogated using a mind-probe. While it's no harder to commit a crime in the Unity, than it is in the drifts, it's almost impossible, at least for capital crimes, to get away with it without being apprehended, mind-probed, convicted and sent to Felon's Rift. Almost impossible. Petty criminals like the wharf rats are familiar enough with their local security interfaces – warehouses security and such, that they can, with care, avoid them. In fiction, skillful criminals can, with very elaborate planning, commit capital crimes and avoid detection. And based on personal experience, it can be done in real life too – though we didn't alert the Guard, which may have made all the difference. In any event, pulling off a second attempt in the Unity Standard crater and rift cities of Lontria, with its tightly packed security interfaces would be a very daunting challenge, assuming the assassins were professional enough to want to avoid Felon's Rift.

'Good,' I said. 'Hopefully that'll be enough. Still, we don't know what type of organization we're up against. Who's to say they don't have access to security interface data?' In fiction, once more, having your own people in the security service was an almost essential step in operating a criminal guild. Criminal guilds are rumored to exist; with little evidence they do. Still, that might just be evidence that Unity security is doing its job – keeping us feeling safe and secure.

'I'd think that unlikely, but even so, it's a chance I must run,' she said grimly.

'And what about all the dissenting craters where Unity law doesn't apply?'

'There are hard security interfaces with mind probes at the entrance points of the dissenting communities to prevent criminals from taking shelter in them. Besides, the Guard can pursue capital crime criminals anywhere in the Nebula. The dissenting societies offer no guaranteed sanctuary. I don't see them as increasing the threat to me.'

I shrugged. 'Well, if you're comfortable...' I wasn't, but that wouldn't lift with her.

'You'll need to take precautions as well. Unlike me, you can't avoid CraterCity. Ship's business will take you down on a fairly regular basis. At a minimum you need to vary when and how you arrive. Don't fall into patterns. Don't become predictable in your business and pleasure. And don't spend a lot of time in any one place.'

'I'm just an inconvenient witness. I'm simply not worth it.'

'If they're intent on killing me for something I might know, they may think you know it too. But more to the point – you're important simply because you're a link to me. It's all about me, Litang,' she laughed.

'Well, yes, I see that. The less you tell me and the less we meet, the less of a danger I'll be to you and the less of a prize I'd be to them. Whomever they are.'

'Right. And that is how we'll operate. And I have to assume that the assassins did enough research before setting up their Calissant attempt to know about Vyn and Ten. I won't be able to put off seeing them on a fairly regular basis, but I'll make those meetings at random times and places. Still, keep them as busy as you can aboard ship.'

'Right. Well, I'll take precautions – for your sake,' I added with, what I hoped, was an easy laugh – my best Brilliant Pax impression. I was, however, feeling far from that confident.

'You're serious, aren't you?' she asked, watching me carefully.

'Yes. You know I'm a cautious fellow. I take the threat to you very seriously. I take the threat to me, because if my connection to you, very seriously as well. I'll take precautions until we sail. And I'll hope that you'll decide to sail with us in the end – if only to get away from Lontria and put any potential assassins a star system behind.'

'No. And you know my reasons.'

'And you're still going after them, alone?'

'Yes. But differently. On Calissant I was thinking of revenge. Now I've come to see nothing good would come of that. It's a futile goal. But I still want to know who killed my parents and why. I'll find those answers, but I'll do it cautiously, in slow, hidden steps. You can now give me your lecture on how foolish I'm being.'

'No, I promised myself I wouldn't. I'll let Vyn give it,' I added, with a laugh.

'I don't believe you,' she replied with a smile. 'You're giving up too quickly.'

'Oh, I'm not giving up. I merely think I've a better offer, which, after you give it some thought, you'll agree that it's better, quicker and safer than going alone.'

'And how is that different from a lecture?'

'I'm not going to try to talk you into it. I'll merely outline it and you'll see for yourself. And I won't even insist that you hear it, if you really don't want to risk seeing things my way... I did promise to offer advice only when you asked for it.'

'And now you're taunting me. Okay, Wil, make your case.'

'My case is simple. The Lost Star will take you where you want to go – at your command. And you'll have resources and shipmates with skills that'll make finding what you want faster and safer than if you go it alone.

'First off, there is the true log of the Lost Star which should, at least, give us some strong hints as to where to look, if not the actual place. Since the true log cannot be destroyed, we feel it's hidden in what's called a data black hole. In Rafe gil'Giles, we've one of a very small cadre of hackers who can find that data hole and fish the true log out. I already have him at work on the project.'

'Did you tell him why you wanted it?' she asked sharply.

'I told him given the ship's mysterious past, I suspected there are places in the Nebula that the Lost Star might not be welcome. I said you, as owner, would be interested in it too. I've said nothing about the Yacht Club, though everyone knows your suspicions about the crash, so using the ship to find the Four Shipmates' secrets wouldn't surprise anyone.'

'You know my attitude about putting people in danger by my presence.'

'In Rafe, Ten and Vyn, we've people who can make you, and the ship disappear. It took 'em half a century to track down the Four Shipmates, and they didn't seem to hide all that deeply. We can sail into the deep drifts as the Lost Star and turn up in another system as a completely different ship. Rafe was telling me the other day he can construct new identities for us that'll still refer back to our current Guild records for verification. It just involves some data switching in the Guild information system where he has cyber-bots in place already. You don't need to be a tourist at the mercy of ship schedules and routes to travel and still be anonymous.'

She gave a little shrug, but said nothing, so I continued, 'The Lost Star may be too well known to get close to your enemies, but if we're successful, we can perhaps earn the credits to buy a small drift trader you could use when the time comes so as not to arouse suspicion. It'd be far more convenient to locate and study your enemies aboard your own ship than as a tourist or a spaceer on some tramp – with no control over where you go, or how long you stay.

'So you see, we've the resources to avoid danger and find what you're looking for faster and on your own terms.'

'It's a tempting offer, but...' she said thoughtfully.

'Do I need to make it stronger? I'm not just talking about being safe from your enemies. Shipping as a spaceer in a system you're unfamiliar with can land in berths that are very unpleasant, even on Guild ships. And if you'd have to sail in the drifts, likely in non-Guild ships, it could even be dangerous.'

We walked in silence for a while. 'I'll give it some thought,' she said, at last. 'But tell me, could I not ask gil'Giles to create a new identity for me without being aboard? And could you not send along a copy of true log once it's out of the black hole? Why can't I reap the benefits of the Lost Star without adding to its risks? And if you manage to earn enough credits to buy a small ship, I can use those credits without being on the ship as well. You've given me something to think about, but it seems I still can avoid putting you and the gang in any danger at all while getting the benefits you've presented.'

Bloody Neb. That had actually escaped me. I shrugged. 'I suppose... But you'll be all alone in the wide Nebula – if you can give Vyn and Ten the slip, that is – which might be hard to do,' I added, desperately.

'Oh, I'll talk 'em around. Don't worry, they'll stay on-board.'

'I doubt it. Vyn looks on you as a daughter now.' Which might explain her rather tentative view of me – the price of that message from the Yacht Club.

'Oh, I can be very persuasive when I put my mind to it. I may have to slander you a bit, spin a tale about how I need them aboard to look after you and my ship. If you get a hint of that, just discount it. I trust you – and the gang with my ship, with or without Vyn and Ten.

'Thank you. Just so you know, I want all three of you aboard, but if we can't convince you to sail with us, I'd want them with you. You'll get no help from me in that respect. It's probably just timid old me, but I can't imagine kicking about the Nebula all alone,' I added, shaking my head. 'Really, Tallith, we're spaceers. A little danger is neither gas nor dust, and I know the gang will think nothing of taking on whatever slight danger you bring with you, which I think we can eliminate with Rafe's magic.'

'I'll consider what you said, but I doubt I'll change my mind. Now, what is it that you and Ten are so anxious to spend my credits on?'

'Two things. First, the anti-meteor defensive missile system. Our detection and control system is mid-level, but our current supply of anti-meteor missiles are very basic, providing us with only a C level of protection – adequate for circling Azminn, but not for drift work,' I said. Unlike in the drifts, meteors are very rare in the planetary belt and pirates completely absent. 'Vyn and Ten would like to see our system upgraded to B level at least, and ideally A level, if only to keep insurance rates affordable.'

'That just involves getting better missiles, or is there more to it?'

'I gather the ratings are a combination of control and missiles. Upgrading one or the other might earn us a B rating, but we'd need to upgrade both our sensor array and missile control systems, plus ship a larger variety and more sophisticated mix of missiles to get an A rating. I've scanned the catalogs and it seems with the ship's budget, a complete A level system would be out of reach even with the proceeds of the Tiladore charter. However, if we go refurbished we might be able to just swing an A level rating. Luckily the & Kin's yard, which your uncle always used for any work he wanted done on his ships, is located here.'

'Could we settle for a B level?'

'We could, but Ten says the lower A level insurance rates would quickly pay the difference. And, I should add, he's pushing for a full A level upgrade. He says he'd be a lot more comfortable with an A level response – which, I might add, makes me rather prefer an A level as well. But it's a matter of your credits...'

She sighed. 'At least we have some now. You're suggesting & Kin for the work.'

'No better yard. I'm sure they'd be eager to keep your business. And I don't think you'd find a better price. I can contact them and look into our prospects. Ten has turned in a number of possible options for both control and missile systems, so I can work up some hard prices for you in a day or two, with your permission, of course.'

'Fair enough. I can see we'll need to do something, and we do have some credits to work with.'

'Right, the second item is Vyn's suggestion that we add several drones to help navigate the drifts. In the charted and well-traveled space lanes they're not necessary, but if we're to sail the deep drifts, we'd want at least one and preferably several to extend our sensor range. We've one aboard we can refit during the long voyage, but she'd like two more. I gather sailing behind drones not only allows us to safely increase our speed, but extends our safety margin for any other unpleasant surprises the drift might spring on us. & Kin should have a good selection of salvaged drones, but I've no cost estimation. I'll get that for you too.'

She sighed again. 'Anything else you need my credits for?'

'Those are the two major items. Everything else we picked up in Calissant. I'll transfer Ten and Vyn's detailed proposals as well as my final accounting for the voyage,' I said.

We spent the next several hours walking and going over our trade options and prospects – which came down to sending us out hollow in a month or two unless prospects looked to be picking up. Min said I could rotate the crew between unpaid leave and harbor watch rates without paying them off, the best balance between the ship's and crew's requirements that could be found in these uncertain times.

Eventually we ended up in a walled garden cafe. The ally-like streets allow only pedestrian, small electric scooter and buggy traffic. They're shaded by trees and lined with high vine covered walls on the upside, pierced with gates opening to courtyards. The residences are of one to three stories, depending on their location in the diamond shaped block, and set back against the slope of the crater. The downsides of the streets are bordered by ivy and creeper covered walls of these residences, pierced by doors that lead to the house or courtyard. The buildings are all flat roofed with patios overlooking the green bowl of the crater. The cafe we found, Cafe Malay, was entered through a vine draped gate leading to a light dappled courtyard with tables scattered about. Only the kitchens were enclosed, since every day is a sunny day in the craters of Lontria.

The fruit, grain and stir fried vegetable courses were colorful, spicy and delicious. Even with a chef like Barlan, it's a treat to have something distinctly different – in this case, unfamiliar vegetables and a unique combination of spices...

As we sipped our cha in comfortable silence I considered the difference a month on her own had made. She looked up, noticed, and gave me an inquiring glare.

We'd arrived, once more, at a point where we were comfortable together. 'I was just noting that your youth has returned. When I first saw you I couldn't place your age, your face was thin and weary, but your eyes did not have the look of someone who'd seen a century. Now you look your age again, the stress lines are gone, and well, there's no mistaking your youth or happiness.'

'Thank you Captain. Such flattery. I do feel young again, or younger, at any rate, than I have for quite some time. My recovery was demanding and I'd returned to Calissant only two months prior to your arrival where I was kept busy starting my career as a ship broker and settling my parent's estate. It took its toll. But that's all astern now in time and space. Despite my habit of taking precautions and staying aware, I've felt comfortable here and have been able to enjoy the freedom to wander as I please.'

'It's good to see you this way. Still, I must admit I'd been rather keen on having you on board as a pilot and owner. Have you really decided tramp spacing is not for you?'

'Oh, I don't know,' she admitted. 'This has been a time out of time, so to speak. An interlude, not a life that I intend to lead. I'll just have to take what follows and decide...'

I said enough, so I left her to her thoughts.

We both started yawning so we said goodbye soon after and she went her way. I didn't ask because I didn't want to know where. I decided to take a bumboat back to the ship from Bramble Vale's small landing field rather than return to CraterCity. I took a light monorail up to the small landing field outside the crater's wall and signaled for a lift. I was surprised to find an old friend and fellow first mate, Kan Kantis, of the Distant Star Line tramp Polaris, as the responding bumboat pilot. We caught up on news as he took me up through the anchorage to the ship. Kan said his boat was actually the Polaris's launch which he was leasing from the Polaris since it was paid off and laid up in the anchorage. As I mentioned, the Distant Star Line encourages go-getters and Kan Kantis, unwilling to rot about CraterCity, had struck a deal with his captain to lease the launch and operate a taxi service to serve the explosion in demand with all the ships in the anchorage. He'd started only a week before and was already making a small profit. Keeping busy and meeting old mates was his main motivation, or so he'd have me believe, but I know him better than that. He's right at home in the Distant Star Line. As I said, a go-getter. I told him he was the official bumboat supplier for the Lost Star, and invited him aboard for a mug of cha, but he got another signal so he promised to stop around, time permitting, and was off to pick up his next fare.

Vynnia looked in soon after I arrived back and I filled her in on all we'd discussed. After we'd gone over all the ship's business part of it, she asked me if I'd made any progress in convincing Min to sail with us.

'I presented my case, which I thought was pretty persuasive, but she was able to wiggle out of it,' I admitted. 'However, I think she can be convinced, but I'm going to hand that task to you and Ten. She's my commanding officer, I'm not in a position to constantly question her decisions, especially since she's not asking for my advice. You're like family, so you can be more insistent than I.'

She didn't seem especially happy. She may've believed I had more lift with her than I did, which made my casual acceptance of Min's plans all the more puzzling. Truth is that I don't know what I wanted. I had to just hope it would become clear when the time came to decide.

### Chapter 25 Sanre-tay Day 2 – Jann's Visit

I spent the second and third watch going over the ship's accounts with Illy, bringing all our accounts up to date and paying the crew their wages. After our mid-day meal, Vynnia and I worked out our downside leave schedule and our policies regarding guests.

Later, just as I was about to contact & Kin to get some prices for our planned updates, I was pinged by Kie, who had the harbor watch.

'Captain Jann on the com,' said Kie.

'Thanks, Kie.' I meditated on a long deep breath before I brought up the screen and opened the link.

'Captain Litang,' he said with a nod as his image appeared on the screen.

'Greetings, Captain Jann,' I replied and hurried on. 'Glad you've signaled. I was planning to signal you myself. I've just been going over a list of ships in the anchorage with the idea of inviting all of Captain Miccall's old friends, shipmates, and rivals aboard for a meal and a few drinks to remember him. With so many ships here, we should have a good gathering, and I was hoping you'd help me round everyone up. I'd hate to overlook anyone.'

'I'd be glad to help. When are you thinking of holding this soiree?'

'Certainly before you sail. I've already counted seven or eight captains and old shipmates, so we should be able to get a nice gathering and I'd certainly want you in attendance.'

'I've a few days, Captain,' replied Jann gruffly, but without rancor. 'The boxes take their time accumulating these days.'

'Aye, so I gather.'

'The Neb knows what I'm to do with you,' he said with a sigh. 'We'll need to talk about that. But anyway, Congratulations, Wil. You owe me, and now I want to call in a little of that debt,' he added in his usual blunt style. I wasn't sure I owed him anything, but if he was willing to overlook our last meeting, I was too.

'I'm always happy to help you in any way. And well, just so you know – you needn't worry about us. Our new owners are sending us out of system in search of paying cargo. That should ease your mind some. So how can I repay my debt?' I added with a smile.

'Out of system, you say?' he gave me a measuring look. 'Drift work.'

'Aye.'

'Better you than me, though I did it in my youth and survived.'

'I hope to as well. Came with the berth. Still, I've an experienced crew that should see us through.'

He nodded. 'We'll talk more about that too. What I want is answers, and I think you have some.'

'42,' I said with a laugh, that being the ancient universal answer to everything.

Jann smiled slightly, 'I mean answers to what's going on with Tallith Min, Min & Co, the Ministry of Death, and you.'

'I have some of those answers as well,' I admitted. 'But I'll warn you at lift, I'm not at liberty to answer every question, so don't blame me if I'm less than forthright. But I'm certain you know enough to find your way through the dust and debris without a chart.'

'Fair enough. Are you free to get together now?'

'If you're willing to put up with me yawning, I've not had time to adjust to CraterPort time. Bring your appetite, we'll have dinner afterward.'

'Oh, I'll keep you awake. Ten minutes. And I'd like to bring Seni Shir along, if that's acceptable.'

'Of course, love to see Seni again. I'll meet you at the port landing stage.'

The gangplank did not move this time when Jann's gig docked. Seni must've been at the controls. The hounds greeted Jann and Seni as old friends and Jann greeted them and me just as before. Belbania was well astern, as I'd expected. I had considered inviting Vynnia to join us, but something in Jann's manner suggested that this was business rather than social, so I showed them to my office and waived them to my causal chairs. This time I didn't chase the hounds out and put a globe of Ysent rum next to Jann without bothering to ask.

'What can I get you, Seni? I'm going to have a mug of cha...'

'Cha will be fine with me,' she replied. Seni Shir is a very small, neat looking woman whose first, and true, impression is one of economic efficiency. She knows everything there's to know about running a ship wisely and effectively. She's the first mate's first mate. She'd have been a ship's captain already, save her loyalty to the Night Hawk Line and Captain Jann.

We exchanged small talk about who we knew in the anchorage while I made the cha.

I handed Seni her mug and settled on a chair. 'I believe you wanted answers, Zel.'

'I'll cut to lift, this time. I need to know what's up with Min & Co and Tallith Min, and why you have Tallith Min signed on as a pilot,' said Jann setting down his globe of rum.

That knocked me completely off course. Min was still on my crew list and Jann, as captain, would've access to the Guild records that'd show that. I didn't see any course but admit to that, but beyond...

'She is on my books but not aboard ship. May I ask why you want to know?' I answered guardedly.

'Because Captains Dunnet, Kadalar, Ambon and I have gotten into the ship owning business. We've bought four used twenty-four box traders presently being refitted at & Kin's. I want Seni to take my position as captain of the Comet King. She's more than earned it. But I want to be sure the position is hers before I resign. If I can't be certain, I'll stay on and appoint her captain of my trader, which I'm thinking of naming Zelbe's Folly. I'd rather Seni take over the Comet King and I command my own ship, but I'll not have her serving under another Ministry of Death or Min & Co appointed master. So I need to know who and what I'm dealing with back on Calissant to make this happen. I'd also like to know what's up with this White Bird Line and how it'll affect us. Fair enough?'

Dunnet, Kadalar and Ambon were three of the Night Hawk Line captains whose ships had been laid up on Calissant. The precipitous fall in trade volume meant that smaller ships with smaller crews (planet traders needed only a crew of four, and are often just family run affairs) are able to show a profit with today's smaller cargoes. It was probably a pretty canny move on the captains' parts to snap up these planet traders, though these ships were almost small tramps.

'Fair enough. Vinden owned the Lost Star outright when he died. The documents were all in the Ministry and the heir was clearly listed, so rather than risk losing credits, they released it to the heir. My understanding is that the rest of the fleet will go to someone else, so we have no official or unofficial connection to Night Hawk Line anymore. As far as Tallith Min, she had decided that being a ship broker did not suit her at this point in life. She sold her share of Min & Co to Phylea Kardea and the staff. She still controls the other two thirds of the business her brother and sister own, but she's given Kardea full operational control of Min & Co, so when you're dealing with Phylea, you're essentially dealing with the owner these days. Phylea might have to confer with the Ministry to change captains, but I'd think they'd almost certainly go along with anything she suggested. I can't imagine Phylea would have any objection to appointing Seni captain, or why the Ministry would either.'

Jann looked to Seni and nodded. 'Good. It should work out.' He glanced across to me, 'Seni's put in too much time and effort for her loyalty not to be rewarded. Now what about Tallith Min? I'd like to meet her but you said she's not aboard?'

I nodded. 'Right. She's not,' I paused, uncertain of how to continue. I could trust Jann and Seni, so I opted to tell the truth, as little as possible of it, but the truth. 'She originally signed on, but when an opportunity to sail as a guest of her former captain aboard the Aurora came up, she took it.'

'But she's still on your books.'

'Yes. Her original plan was to sail with us as pilot to learn the tramp trade, but now seems she's content to see the eight stars as a simple tourist...'

'But she's still on your books,' Jann insisted. 'Why?'

'I'm still hoping she'll sail with us. So I've kept her on.'

He stared at me. 'I knew Hawker well enough to know who Vinden willed this packet to, but that still doesn't explain why she's still on your books after running off on the Aurora or deciding to be a tourist. But I suppose it's none of my business,' he added with a shrug.

Dare I leave it there? If they had been sailing in hours, I would have. But they were not.

'Listen, this stays just between us,' I began, leaning forward and pausing until I had their nods of agreement. 'I can't go into details, but briefly, Min believes that her parents were killed, and perhaps Miccall and Vinden as well, by enemies out of their past. She has very good reasons to believe they mean to kill her too. She's determined to find out why and who's behind those murders but feels she's a danger to anyone around her and is determined to seek the killers alone. It may be none of my business, but I'd feel a whole lot better if she pursued her goals aboard the Lost Star. I've been able to sign on not only Rafe gil'Giles, but Tenry Roynay and Vynnia enCarn as well, so you see we're well equipped to find secret things and deal with shadowy threats. But at the moment it seems I'm not able to convince Min of that, but with her still on my books...' I left it hang with a look.

Jann and Seni have both been executive officers for many decades, so I didn't have to say more.

'Would you dare?'

'Yes. Well, maybe. Roynay and enCarn only signed on to stay with her as watch dogs and will follow her whether or not she wants them to... So you see I'm on a knife's edge. I have to count on you to steer well clear of all this.'

Jann grinned. 'You're a surprisingly ruthless son of a black star, Litang.'

'Driven so by necessity.'

'That's what all us ruthless bastards say.'

'He's bound for the drifts, Captain. I think he needs all the expertise he can get,' added Seni, with a sweet smile.

'True. Well, you can count on us, Litang. I want to sleep at night,' said Jann gravely.

I'm going to assume that was an example of Jann's humor, so I'll sleep at night.

We moved up to the awning deck shortly afterward to join the rest of the crew. Jann explained his plans to use their small trader fleet to shuttle boxes from the minor planets and hand off the long haul ones to the remaining three Night Hawk Line ships. That way they could offer express service for both short and long deliveries, free the tramps from planet calls for a couple of boxes, and drive business for all concerned. We suggested our old plan of using a couple of laid up tramps as orbital warehouses to smooth out the transfer process, which Jann thought promising, if they could charter a couple of ships cheap enough. They stayed on for several hours after the meal, and after I saw them off, I found my hammock quite comfortable for the twenty seconds I was awake.

### Chapter 26 Sanre-tay Day 3 – & Kin's

Entertaining Jann and Seni pushed my call to & Kin's back a day. However, by mid third watch the following day, I was feeling fit enough to call down to Kelapa & Kin Spaceship Sales, Service and Salvage to see what they could do for us.

The "& Kin" is a thousand-year-old joke. The last Kelapa who'd actually owned the firm died twelve hundred years ago but to this day it's still a family firm – every employee is still related to the founder, Drigh Kelapa by blood or marriage. A thousand years ago, one of the cousins employed by the firm thought it clever to skip the obsolete Kelapa and shortening the firm's name to simply & Kin to better reflect the nature of the firm. The joke stuck.

I reached the moon-faced, always rumpled, always harried Cousin Natsepe in sales.

'Hi Nat. Litang of the Lost Star. Looking to make some easy credits?' I said as Nat's grumpy face came up on the com screen. I'd dealt with him before.

'Hey Wil. And no, we've plenty of credits. Too many. Don't have time to make any more. Lift off. I'm busy.'

'You're a born salesperson, Nat.'

'Neb-straight. Keep my services so exclusive, ship-owners brag in bars when I decide to sell 'em something. You got'a have a mega-ton of lift for me to sell you anything at all.'

'Have I the lift?'

'Neb no. Sorry, Wil, you're a wet behind the ears ship captain. Don't rate.'

'You guys that busy?'

'It seems that every Neb-blasted ship owner in the system has decided to fix one thing or another as long as the ships are idle,' he replied. 'We're up to our eyebrows in work.'

'Well, I'm joining the club.'

He heaved out a heavy sigh. 'I'd tell you to go to the blasted Tenth Star or Pyleen Yards, but for Fen Miccall's sake, I'll see what I can do for you. No promises.'

'Nothing too demanding. We're looking to upgrade our detection and missile tracking systems to A level. And some scout drones. We're heading out of system and gearing up for drift work.'

'It'll be deep drift work at that,' he said, shaking his head sadly. 'Better you than me. I'd imagine we've a few A-level systems in the warehouse. Not a lot of demand. Azminn ship-owners don't need A level stuff. Any brand in mind?' he added, pulling up his inventory screen.

'I've a list right here, but I'm warning you, I'm on a tight budget. I'm thinking of good quality refurbished. Best price for an old customer.'

'Wil, everyone gets best price. Goes without saying. Now what are you looking at?'

I read off the options Tenry had prepared. He shook his head glumly as he entered the data. 'We've got some of those models, in our warehouse. These are the prices.'

I looked at them and asked, 'Anything more affordable?'

'If you go out to the flats and pull the Neb-blasted gear yourself from the wrecks and settle for an as-is system, it'll save you half off the warehouse prices. You'd have to refurbish it yourself. No guarantees.'

'That sounds promising. Do you have what we're looking for in the wrecks?'

'Well, the survey report shows more than a dozen possibilities on the flats, but what shape they're in is anyone's guess. All I can say for certain is that they're listed in the survey. I'll send you a chart and you can go out and find and check them out yourself,' he replied. 'Still, no reason to think you couldn't find a near mint unit out there. We've little demand for them so there's no pressing reason to pull them ourselves.'

'That sounds encouraging. I'm sure we could refurbish it, and the gang always likes a ticket to your salvage yard. I think we'll go that route.'

'Then I'll set you up with yard office to schedule a date.'

'Do that, Nat, and include where to find the drones as well. As to upgrading missiles, what sort of credits can we get by trading in more missiles than we replace?'

'I doubt we'd even want'em. Nobody needs them in this system, as you well know. My records show you last swapped yours out some thirty-seven years ago even though they should be rotated regularly every twenty. Few ship-owners bother. You'd be better off selling them in the drifts. Always a demand there, even for your basic versions.'

I sighed. 'Still, we'll need some. Get me some prices and I'll see how many we can afford.'

'Right. And I'll schedule you with the armory crew to install the missile. We'd need at least two weeks to get some A-level missiles refurbished, so I might as well get you scheduled. Get back to me on how many you want once you see the prices. Still, you might be able to get by without them. The updated detection and control system alone will give you a B level rating. You could get by with that. I wouldn't, but you could...'

'Thanks Nat. I'll be in contact.'

### Chapter 27 Sanre-tay Days 4 and 5 – Miccall's Memorial Dinner

Between Jann and myself, we found fifteen old spaceers, mostly captains and chief engineers who knew Captain Miccall well. With the promise of drink and a Barlan and Saysa prepared meal, we'd no problem setting an early date for the gathering. I spent the day helping to prepare the meal, selecting the beverages from the supplies Min had brought along with her, and getting the dining salon and awning deck festive for the gathering.

Vynnia and Tenry had gone down to Lontria to spend the day with Min, where they were planning on touring some colorful dissident communities. I sent the price list Nat had sent up with Tenry for her consideration. Tenry being the expert, I told him I'd leave the decision in his and Min's hands. They arrived back aboard the ship as I was setting the table in the dining salon.

'Don't you have a staff to do that, Captain?' Vynnia asked, watching me.

'Attention to details First, attention to the little details,' I replied brightly, just to annoy her. 'This is tramping; we're jacks of all trades. How was your visit? Any luck changing her mind?'

From the narrow look Vynnia gave me and her short, 'No', I rather suspect just the reverse – Min spent the time on the subject trying to convince (order?) them to stay aboard the Lost Star. I tried looking sadly disappointed, but truth be told, I'd not expected them to sway her, so astonishment at success would have been my only authentic reaction.

Jann arrived before the rest of the guests, and we greeted them as they arrived. Riv and Lilm and Illy were all on hand too, all old spaceers who've known each other for decades. All you have to do to keep things festive was maintain liquid splashing in their drinking globes before and after the meal. I've collected quite a score of Miccall yarns over the years, but I collected a few more over the course of the evening, though nothing new about the Four Shipmate era which predates even these old shipmates and rivals. It was early the next morning when they were more or less towed to a boat sent from their ship to take them off and I was able to find my hammock again. Getting into it proved to be a slight problem. Sleep wasn't.

The following day started a little late for me. I spent the morning, what little was left of it, going over the plan and budget Min and Tenry had decided on. I asked Tenry to step in when I called down to & Kin's to do the final negotiation with Nat. We managed to get ten top notch Viper XD mk 7's and a hundred Dodger 77 mini-missiles, designed to deflect small meteors, but used mainly as anti-missile missiles in the drifts, by trading in forty of our current missiles plus additional credits. They would just qualify us for an A level rating – hopefully all we'd needed them for. We also negotiated a twenty percent finder's fee for any hidden treasures we might turn up in the wrecks which might help pay for them. Tenry had decades of experience searching for smuggler's nooks in ships, so he thought he'd have a go at some likely wrecks if he had the time. He made no guarantees, but I'd hopes.

That evening I posted word that we'd be going down to & Kin's flats. I knew it'd be a popular excursion, so Lili and the system techs would have plenty of help finding and pulling the systems we needed.

### Chapter 28 Sanre-tay Day 6 – The Flats of & Kin

The trip to & Kin's was a holiday excursion for much of the off-duty crew. & Kin occupies a large cluster of craters three hundred kilometers out from CraterPort. Half of their facility is a large, ten-kilometer-wide, flat bottomed crater, known simply as the flats where for two thousand years, wrecked and salvaged space ships have been dumped – complete ships, and pieces of ships in every size and type lay scattered across the airless plain, a vast treasure trove in the eyes of our engineering staff, and indeed in the eyes of most spaceers. On any given day, in addition to the & Kin salvage teams, the flats hosts scores of ship parties roaming the wilderness of wrecks on some excuse or other just to explore the old ships, treating it like a spaceship museum.

With the proper plans, many components can be printed or manufactured aboard the ship, but parts made of D-matter must be purchased since D-matter can't be replicated with parts printers. The owners who'd last refitted the Lost Star (500 years ago) were old ship captains who'd fitted her with the best, most reliable, and the most repairable components credits could buy. Still, 500 years and a star system away means that a lot of D-matter replacement components can only be found in salvage yards, where they're rare. The engineering staff has spent decades restoring the ship to this old standard, regularly scrounging the flats of & Kin's and other yards searching for the replacement parts needed to swap out the cheaper components that the less the prosperous owners of the ship had used in its lean years. There are, of course, newer components, but the Unity is all about dynamic stasis – improvements to anything usually remain local for thousands of years, so new parts aren't better than the 500-year-old ones, and many are not as repairable as the ones those old ship captains had installed. Though the engineering department has acquired a large collection of spare D-matter parts, on the theory that you never know when you might need more than what you have on hand, they never pass up the chance to scour & Kin's for more. As I said, exploring the flats of & Kin's is not only business, but a treasure hunt, a museum tour and picnic as well, and not only for the engineering staff – there were ten of us aboard the long boat who found some reason to tag along – only the harbor watch was left behind.

The & Kin complex also includes four smaller, overlapping craters, the largest of these being the sales field where they sell fully refurbished space ships and boats. A second housed their shipyards for repair and refit work. Jann and his partner's planet traders could be seen being refitted in the gantries, as were a host of other smaller ships of various types. It didn't look like a gantry was empty. A third crater held the salvage facility that stripped the ships of usable components before the hulls were towed off to be recycled in vast D-matter furnaces, mostly in the drifts. Given the number and age of the ships on the flats, the salvage operation seemed to be falling increasingly behind. The final crater housed the & Kin's offices, factories and warehouses for refurbished parts. They also operate an orbital ship yard for repairing ships too large to be brought down to the surface, and a small armory several hundred kilometers away to store and outfit ships with anti-meteor defenses.

We landed, tumbled out in our space suits, checked in, picked out several crater buggies and headed out to the flats, splitting into two groups, Vynnia, Molaye and I went off in search of a couple of suitable drones, while the rest set out to find a suitable defense system. We had charts of where to find what we were looking for, but the surveys were sketchy, so examining them in person was the only way of assessing their condition. They expected to spend the morning assessing the possibilities on their list, and only after lunch in the & Kin's cafeteria, would they return to extract the various components selected from the wrecks.

With Molaye at the wheel of the crater buggy we clung on for dear life as we bounced through a maze of dusty lanes between the hulking carcasses of wrecked ships, bright in the sunlight, black in the shadows, to the section of the flats where the drones in assorted shapes, sizes, and conditions lay in neat rows. There are drones for every purpose. The drone section was divided into lots for different specialties. There was an asteroid prospecting and mining drone section, many with a bewildering array of appendages to perform specialized mining tasks. There was a planetary probes section for all sorts of drones designed for different environments, from inhabitable planets to gas giants and icy moons. There were spy and guard drones, and the scout we were looking for, and sections for a hundred other small, specialized pilot-less vessels whose purpose was beyond my imagination. Hundreds of them were laid out in rows, intact and in pieces, in the grey dust and bright sunlight. It was, therefore, a minor miracle when Molaye and I discovered two ever so slightly battered scout drones in less than five minutes.

'What do you think, Vyn. A few dents aren't beyond our ability to repair. We'll have plenty of time... and the price looks right,' I said drawing her attention to our find. 'All the pieces seem to be present too. More or less.'

'I'd prefer units that are all in one piece,'Vynnia replied tersely and moved on.

Molaye and I exchanged glances and a shrug and followed her. Within three minutes we'd found several more likely candidates. 'What do you think of these, Vyn. They're all in one piece...' I said, drawing her attention to two more battered scouts.

She looked at them, and at me and said, 'Lift off. Go look at your blasted boats, Captain. I'll find you when I'm done.'

'I was just trying to help, but if you're really okay with that,' I replied. I could see Molaye grinning in her clearsteel helmet behind Vynnia.

'Lift,' she said with an impatient wave of her hand.

'Right, we'll leave the buggy with you. And we'll be a com channel down so that we won't annoy you with our chatter,' and adding brightly in my most captain-like manner, 'Carry on, First.'

I don't think Vynnia was really (all that) annoyed, but she was serious about the need for drones. I, however, knew our budget and that we likely couldn't afford much of anything, but I didn't care to mention that to Vynnia. The truth is that Molaye and I were mostly along to check out the vintage rocket boats in an adjacent section, since we shared a passion for flying rocket boats. It was still too early in my career to think of picking one up, but well, this was actually the first time I was free to check them out in the flats, and you never know...

Molaye and I bounded off to the section of the flats devoted to (the wrecks of) rocket boats, ships' boats, small yachts and assorted other small craft. We'd downloaded the treasure chart and had marked the location of at least fifty boats we wanted a look at and we'd certainly find many more of interest as well – we'd easily fill the morning.

What made it a real quest was that & Kin's identification system rarely notes the variations of a rocket boat model over the decades. To an enthusiast, the difference between Crimson Comet 33z and a Crimson Comet 33zx are like night and day. The two models were built several centuries apart, and the 33zx looks completely different – it has a Gothic sort of look that was briefly in style during the 33zx era – and was produced for a much shorter time than the 33z, the 33za, and 33zb... and so it commands ten times the price. & Kin listed seven Crimson Comet 33's, without further details – though I think they do this on purpose, since however clueless & Kin may seem about the fine details of the wrecks they have on the flats, they actually price them with an expert's eye on the desirability of the model and its physical condition. In any event, we had to check them all out plus many other boats that caught our attention as we went along. We did find a wrecked Crimson Comet 33zx deep in the dust of the flats with a listed price that we (meaning I) could possibly afford. We stood admiring it – though you had to tilt your head in several angles to admire it all and use your imagination to see the missing pieces.

'What do you think, Captain? A 33zx with almost all the pieces...' Molaye said, hands on hips, taking it all in after we'd spend half an hour peering and poking around and in it. 'Just needs a little shop work...'

'They seem to have salvaged a few hull fitting, which might be hard to replace. And, well bending the hull so that all of it is pointing in the same direction would likely take a better equipped hangar than I anticipate owning...' I said, trying to talk myself out of it.

'Have & Kin straighten it out. There's enough of the original left to keep it authentic even if they have to print out replacements for the missing fittings...' suggested Molaye brightly.

'Well it's the best price I've ever seen,' I had to admit. 'I wonder what they'd charge to get it straightened...'

'Do you think you might buy it, Captain? We could store it in no. 4 hold and work on it the whole voyage. Why, I bet Riv and Lilm could cut and straighten it out and we'd have it operational – if not quite authentic – by the time we reach the Aticor or Amdia.'

Fortunately, Vyn, in the buggy, pulled up in a cloud of dust, because I was tempted, even though the boat's price and estimated bill to get it all pointing in one direction would likely wipe out a wide swath of my savings...

'I thought I'd better get over here to chaperon you two. You sound like you're having way too much fun to be just window shopping for rocket boats,' she said.

I may have blushed, but I managed a laugh, 'You can't have too much fun, Vyn. And you don't find a Crimson Comet 33zx just lying about in any old salvage yard every day. It's a find well worth getting a little carried away,' I explained, pointing out our prize. 'They only produced seven thousand of them and only for several decades – it's quite rare.'

She glanced at the wreck and back to us. 'I'll grant you that it looks quite rare, but you seem to have a strange affinity for rockets in pieces...'

'Oh, don't mind her Skipper, she just doesn't understand,' laughed Molaye.

'Maybe I don't,' said Vynnia, 'but I'm getting hungry and I see it's time to meet the gang in the cafeteria.'

'Ah, yes,' I said, tearing my eyes off of the (pieces of) the Crimson Comet. 'We'll have to think on this Molaye. It's been here a thousand years by the look of it, but... Still, it might pay to see what type of down payment might hold it until we could actually afford it,'

'That's the spirit, Captain. We'll be rich enough trading in the drifts that we'll be able to pick it up in a couple of years with pocket change,' replied Molaye brightly.

'Right. But then why settle for this one when we'll be so rich we could afford the one on the sales lot which is in one piece?'

The rest of the crew was already in the cafeteria. They'd also had a successful morning, having found the exact make and model Tenry had at the top of his list in good condition. I remembered to asked Vynnia how her search had gone, only to get a short, 'I've marked four prime quality drones that we could refurbish on board at a good price'.

'Good work, First.' No point being discouraging.

After we lunched, we divided into three groups – Vynnia and I tagged along with Tenry on his treasure hunt. Riv, Lilm and Myes went prospering for spare parts even though I told them the budget wouldn't allow it, and Molaye accompanied Kie and our tech crew back to the wreck to extract the various components they'd selected. I'd high hopes that Tenry would turn up some old contraband which we could use to fill the budget gap, but that proved unfounded. In hind sight it's clear we were up against two thousand years of transmitted wisdom on where smugglers hid their goods, so the chances of finding hidden contraband in the wrecks was likely nil. Nevertheless, the afternoon was not wasted – I learned where and where not to hide things in ships, should I ever have things needing hiding. And it was fun.

Before we left, Molaye and I talked to Nat about the Crimson Comet 33zx. A down payment was doable, but to get it structurally straight and have the missing components replaced pushed the price so close enough to an operational 33zx that we decided to give it a miss for the time being. Who knows what we'll find in the years ahead?

It was evening before we arrived back at the ship with our new weapon control system. I postponed purchasing the drones, and passed on all but a few pump parts that the engineers swore they were very short of. And now, tired and sore from a day spent in a space suit, I hear my hammock calling, so I'll close.

### Chapter 29 Sanre-tay Days 7 & 8 Buggy Racing & The CreditBox

The day after our excursion to & Kin's, I ordered Rafe, Kie, Lili and Tenry to get the missile control system installed and tested. They moaned, groaned and argued that we'd no need to install it now, since we'd have plenty of time on the long voyage when we'd be looking for things to keep us busy. Good thing Vynnia wasn't around. Not only would she have been scandalized by their protest, but at my command style which allowed it. Their moaning and groaning was no real challenge, and I wanted the job done, so I told them that if they'd prefer to be unemployed, I'd see to it. I felt we couldn't afford to pass up any opportunity, however slight, to land a paying cargo. The A-level protection seemed unlikely to make any difference in Sanre-tay, but having nearly exhausted our credit reserves for it, I'd no intention of missing even the slightest chance it might help. It took them only two days to refurbish and test the various components, install them in the sensor pods and on the bridge and test the system, and the gang worked well together, if only to get it done and back to the party.

I slipped ashore that evening to spend some time on Lontria and was relieved that Leafa's gossip included no mention of Tallith Min. It wasn't proof, but given all the ties she had with the Lost Star, via Min & Co, not hearing anything about her in Leafa's stream of ship, trade, and Lontria gossip was a comfort.

The following day Vynnia, Tenry, Illynta and I took the gig down to Lontria to meet Min in Metrolontria's long rift canyon urban complex to be authorized to access the Lost Star's new Unity Charter Central Bank account. We took the gig down to the small landing field of a bedroom community much like Bramble Vale. As is the case everywhere on Lontria, the crater was lush with foliage to keep the atmosphere fresh and breathable. The next two craters were farming ones with terraced fields climbing the crater wall followed by a recreation crater that featured a large, island studded, lake below the rugged, pine covered crater walls. Spider-like low-grav boats skimmed the lake's surface and holiday resorts lined its near shore. We passed two more farming craters before we entering the rift canyon of The Met proper.

The canyon was perhaps ten kilometers wide at this point, surrounded by kilometer high canyon walls lined with garden-terraced buildings, residences, offices, and shops. A green carpet of forests, parks, ornamental lakes, and market gardens ran down the center of the canyon between the terraced buildings. Every dozen kilometers, there was a wall of buildings across the rift built up to the dome, designed to seal the section from the next one to limit any dome failure.

I was struck by a very palatable sense of age about the Met. Though clean and bustling, many of its buildings looked very aged worn. This section had been in place for almost 10,000 years and though renewed, it never changed. There are tens of thousands of cities on hundreds of planets far older than Metrolontria, but on planets, cities can be remade countless times. Moon cities are different. They are carefully designed to maintain a very narrowly defined environment in a harsh, airless world, so their essential structures and patterns can be rebuilt, but not greatly altered without it disrupting the essential environmental patterns that maintain life under the domes. The Met's streets and buildings, farms, parks and forests have always been in place for 10,000 years. And though the actual structures may've been renewed a hundred times, it's always to the same pattern and that pattern seems to have worn a subtle groove into the fabric of reality by five hundred generations of living within the pattern.

The buildings all boast high ceilings and tall, clearsteel exterior walls with open views to the canyon, helping create a sense of openness and space in these dome enclosed cities. Without weather, the low, the public facilities scattered along the canyon floor are as open to the environment as security allowed. Cafes and restaurants, markets and shops, gyms and sports facilities rarely have more than fabric roofs that can be opened after the daily rain shower. Though the fabric of the dome overhead was self-sealing, fliers are not allowed. People travel by velowalks and levatrains with goods delivered by light wheeled vehicles.

We met Min in the CreditBox Department of the UCCB office. After exchanging greetings, we found the Security Section where each of us was scanned and our bio-metrics registered to allow access to the UCCB CreditBox to issue CreditTokens, the universally accepted currency in the Nine Star Nebula. I thought having five of us with access was a bit unnerving. I trusted them all, but I had to wonder why Min felt all five of us needed access. I rather hoped I'd be the only one who'd need to access it.

The UCCB CreditTokens issued by a CreditBox are manufactured, monitored and verified in real time by the Directorate of Sentient Machines, ensuring that each token and associated credit transfer is authentic. This system, and indeed the whole inner workings of the Unity Charter Central Bank, is run on devices designed and monitored by sentient machines using technology which involves instant, quantum communication between the devices and tokens anywhere in the Nebula – a technology that even after 10,000 years of research remains a mystery to humans. (The same technology can be used as communications, but with few special exceptions, the Unity sticks with radio communications rather than relying on the Directorate of Sentient Machines. In part this is because sentient machines and their advanced technology keep people who believe that the machines are feverishly plotting their return to ravish their wives and daughters awake at nights.)

After finishing this business, we lunched in an outdoor restaurant on a terrace with a panoramic view of the rift city, its extreme edges now vague in the hot, humid afternoon atmosphere, and spent an hour walking along lakes and through shaded groves with flocks of birds talking, until Min, with a long ride home, called it a day. We parted at the levatrain station and went our separate ways.

The CreditBox unit was brought up and installed in my office the following day.

Spaceers are a restless breed. Given idle time, they'll fill it with rivalry, racing and wagers – be it rocket boards, ship's boats, fliers, and in this case, crater buggies. Crater buggies are broad-wheeled vehicles used on the airless surface of moons for transport and recreation. They're also raced on every moon in the nebula. Why crater buggies came to be the chief racing and wager vehicle of choice, I can't say, but a series of challenge races quickly grew to an anchorage wide mania. Spaceers were snapping up every available buggy and virtually took over the Starline Raceway for their races. With so many idle ships and spaceers, the races were staged around the clock and quickly organized into tiers of skill levels from beginner to pro.

At Captain Miccall's memorial dinner, Captain Artha Villiant of the Starsilver, had boasted that her chief engineer, Az Binric, was a pro buggy racer on his home moon and was cleaning up in these races. She advised us to put our credits on him. Not being a sporting fellow, I hadn't paid any attention, at the time.

That evening I discovered that we'd our own champion crater buggy racer. I knew Molaye had grown up on Yendora and that she was into racing – rocket boards, I seem to recall, but she'd never mentioned – to me, anyway – that she'd been the junior circuit's champion buggy racer of Yarsaan, Yendora's major city for three years running. She'd abandoned crater buggies as soon as she was old enough to fly rocket boards and had not looked back – rocket boards being so much faster, and more 'exciting' (i.e. dangerous). But with the Starsilver's boast being bandied about the ship, she mentioned this to Riv and Rafe who quickly formed a syndicate and talked her (rather easily, I suspect, by the sparkle in her eyes) into piloting the ship's new crater buggy. I'd not forgotten Molaye's parents' warning, but I was solemnly assured crater buggy racing was as safe as low gravity walking (I was racing crater buggies when I was 10, after all, Molaye explained with a sweet smile.), so I found myself reluctantly giving it my blessing, warning Riv and Rafe not to push Molaye too hard, and handed over my credits for my share in the syndicate. I was warned, in turn, to keep Molaye's junior championship to myself – you see, this was a credit making venture, and they didn't want word getting out that we'd a ringer in the race.

### Chapter 30 Sanre-tay Days 9 – 12 – Visiting & Racing

Molaye is now driving in two races a day, with syndicate members filling in for her whenever she was scheduled to stand watch. In order to keep favorable odds on her, the syndicate needed to keep her true skills under wraps, while still moving her into position to challenge Az Binric before we sailed. To do this, Molaye had to lose badly and win just as badly by making her wins look like lucky breaks, which, I gather, requires a great deal of skill. She was that skillful, and in only five days she was known as "Lucky Laye" amongst the buggy racing set and having already advanced one level, needed only one more win to advance to the next. I wasn't surprised. Having closely observed her piloting, I knew she had an instinctive feel for machines, just as her father said, be it an old tramp, a rocket boat, or a crater buggy.

I was kept surprisingly busy making the rounds of the anchorage and ashore, both on business and for pleasure. I called on Tat to see if there were any prospects for a cargo anytime soon. There were none. I explored the show rooms of exporters lining up products for purchasing on the ship's account which could be traded at a good profit in the Aticor or Amdia systems. I hadn't a budget yet, nor a destination, so I was just window shopping. I called at the Guild Trading Post to see what they had for cha and picked up several cases of premium cha leaves, for trade and my own use. Good cha is in demand anywhere in the Nebula, and by buying or trading via the Guild Trading Post allows you to get very good prices on very rare cha leaf purchased and traded by spaceers star systems away.

I also called on friends in half a dozen ships, and had several fellow pilots and first mates, including Kan, over for a meal and a bit of a party. I was also invited to Captain Seni Shir's sendoff party as the new captain of the Comet King. Once everyone knew I was bound for the drifts, I was regaled with all their old spaceer yarns about their days sailing the drifts – it seems to be a requirement of being a tramp ship captain. Most of their yarns fell into the old spaceer claimed category, though they seemed authentic enough when they told them. I don't believe I hid my leeriness for drift work very well, since they seemed to relish telling me about all their brushes with ruthless miners, possible pirates and iffy cargoes. As I toasted Seni, I rather envied her. It's tough to make a profit these days, and the beach would never be too far away. But she wasn't headed for the Neb-blasted drifts.

### Chapter 31 Sanre-tay Day 13 – A Spook in Black

This morning I found myself lounging, hands in trouser pockets, in the large and loud buggy garage under the grand stand watching Molaye and Riv make their final checks of our crater buggy, the "Lucky Star." There was a dozen such lanes, lined with bays filled with enough buggies to keep the races going one after the other around the clock. The bays were divided by half walls where driver and crew worked on their machine while gaggles of swaggering spaceers milled about in the alley between the bays exchanging brags, boasts and banter with the rival teams.

Molaye, tall, willowy, very much a moon-born lady in her space suit, minus the helmet, was slowly walking around her buggy checking everything. Riv was underneath, making a final check of the power cables and Myes was leaning against the other half wall, keeping the curious at bay with a fierce scowl. Our buggy was a standard four seat recreational unit – egg shaped driver's compartment set in a web of tubular framing which had been stripped down to just a frame, four wide wheels with motors in their hubs. The compartment was pressurized, but drivers still wore spacesuits on the chance it was ruptured during the race.

I'd been slipped the word that Molaye would be getting lucky today so it was safe to put credits on her. I'm not a gambler – though I was assured this wasn't actually gambling – but I did put a modest amount on her winning, mostly as a token of confidence. She was still four tiers below Az and would need this win to advance to the next tier, and two wins in each of the remaining tiers to race against him. Though Min had yet to set a definite sailing date, I expected it within the next month, so she had to get lucky often, but not too often, in order to advance and still make wagering on her a payday.

Glancing up at the clock I saw we'd less than two minutes before the spectators would have to leave for the stands to view our race, so I pushed myself off the wall I was holding up and wished Lucky Laye good luck.

Then, as I turned for the exits I felt a sudden sharp chill streak down my spine. I gave a start and a shiver. I think. I'm not certain of the precise order of events, I may've swung around on account of that knifing chill, or I may've already started turning, but in any event, I started, shivered, and turned, noting a slim figure in a black uniform brush past me. There was something in that confused instant that made me watch her as she sauntered towards the clearsteel exit doors ten meters away. Or rather, her reflection in those doors. My eyes were drawn to her face, darkly reflected, and our eyes seemed to meet and hold for a long second in the dark reflection. She may've even smiled, and I shivered again. She pushed through the doors and disappeared into the crowd beyond them. I found my heart pounding as if I'd seen a ghost.

The whole incident lasted all of six seconds, and on the surface, so trivial it should be beneath recording. And yet there was that sudden chill and that twist of fear in my gut when I saw that slim figure in black – and a dark sense of Deja vu, with flashes of blue lightning.

She was only a spaceer in a black uniform. Black is the most common uniform color and slim spacers hardly rare. So why the chill? Why the feeling she was watching me in reflection in the door? And why the smile, if she had indeed smiled? And why couldn't I shake the feeling a plasma dart was our connection? I stood stock still chasing these thoughts around in my head, until the buzzer rang to clear the garage and I absently headed for the doors in the press of the crowd.

Outside, she was nowhere to be seen, so I joined my shipmates in the crowded stands that overlooked the rugged, airless crater-track beyond the clearsteel wall harshly lit in the unfiltered light of Azminn. The race course wove its way through the crater, in and around rocky outcrops, narrow rifts and steep hills. Crater buggy racing in low gee, at least as practiced by spaceers, seems to be a free for all, involving a great deal of bumping, crashing, tumbling and flying buggies. Knowing nothing about the sport and still preoccupied with my eerie encounter, I could still see Molaye made several mistakes, taking turns too wide, and getting knocked about, and yet, right at the finish, she got one lucky bounce off a shallow outcropping rock that sent her buggy flying into the leader, knocking him aside and allowing her to come a buggy's length ahead at the finish line, Lucky Laye lucking out again. We cheered, went back down to congratulate Lucky Laye and the crew and on to collect our winnings. With the win, Molaye would be moving up a division, so she had the rest of the day off. However, she and the crew still needed to put the buggy back, more or less together again, so those of us with nothing else to do, left them to their work. I signaled Kan to come and take the few of us staying on the ship, back up.

Once aboard ship, I slipped into the medic bay to do a med-scan for some peace of mind. I was thinking of a toxic dart, though we spaceers undergo special immune system augmentation procedures to make visits to other worlds relatively safe, health-wise. That procedure should make it very difficult to poison a spaceer. Should, being the operative word. No toxins showed on the scan. Then I used my com link to do a full spectrum scan for any radio tracking tags I might have picked up – and didn't find any either. The sharp chill seemed more psychological than physical.

Still, I decided I had to trust my intuition and operate on the assumption the spaceer I saw was one of the system pilots from the Azure Night, possibly our yacht club assassin. Though I was going mostly on intuition, there was a logical reason as well. To pick me out of the thousands of spaceers who enter and leave CraterCity each day and track me would be a hopeless task for anything less than a large organization. However, if she was indeed a spaceer, she'd likely know my crew had a racing buggy and she could assume that I'd show up at the track sooner or later. So I could be found – and may have been. I was also one of the most likely people to lead them to their real target, Min, so the encounter, if not just in my imagination, made sense. And yet, I didn't see how she could follow me without some sort of radio tracer, which I'd not found. Was there another way? Rafe might know, but I dared not ask him without Min's approval.

In the end, I called Min and briefly told her of the incident, in my best Last Striker danger be damned style. She took it seriously, and warned me again to be on my guard. I assured her, I was being my old cautious self. We left it at that. Nothing more could be done. Vynnia and Tenry had been with her when I was at the races, so they weren't at risk for being tagged, this time.

### Chapter 32 Sanre-tay Days 14 –18 The End of Our Idle Days

01

The eeriness had evaporated by the time I awoke the next day, leaving only a vague sense of unease. Unease was nothing new, and no plans needed to be changed. I was, however, restless and weary of both the vague threats and all the little details that seem to fill so much of my time, so I decided to take a holiday off ship. And take it alone. The buggy racing crew had the long boat, so I signaled Kan, packed a generous picnic lunch from the bistro, and told Lili, who had the watch, that I'd be gone all day. I'd Kan drop me off at the landing field we'd used the other day to go to The Met and took the levatrain to the crater with the lake and pine forests.

I left the platform with a surging crowd of bounding children and their already harried parents. Beyond the broad strand of food stands, dance halls, and gaming casinos, the wide sand beach was already crowded. I didn't linger – I wanted solitude, so I struck out along the paths around the rocky shore of the placid lake and soon found the touch of nature I needed amongst the pines. I spent the day hiking up and down the hills and around the lake, stopping once to strip and swim in a sandy cove. Low gravity swimming is different than on a planet, the action of the water and waves are exaggerated and seemingly in slow motion. After swimming, I'd rested in the warm sunlight and had lunch. I'll admit to playing games to see if I was being followed, but found nothing to alarm me. I had the trails mostly to myself as this was a work day on Lontria. The sun was below the crater wall by the time I arrived back at the pale beach, now largely deserted in the deepening gloom, though the bright-lit establishments along the strand were in full swing with music and crowds. I hurried through them, and caught the next levatrain back to the landing field crater. By the time Kan arrived, I was feeling stiff, tired, and sore.

Vynnia and Tenry were waiting in ambush when I arrived, so I waved them into my office, slid the panel closed and settling on to a chair with a sigh, stretched out my aching legs.

'Hard day, Skipper?' asked Tenry.

'I may have overdone my hiking a wee bit. Still I made it all the way around that lake we passed the other day.'

'Two or three kilometers?' he asked innocently.

'I believe it was twenty, not counting all the ins and outs, ups and downs,' I replied, too tired to take offense. 'Sorry I didn't see you last night or this morning. I needed some time alone. Did Min have anything interesting to say?'

'We'd a long visit. I don't know if you've had a chance to check your messages, but she's decided it's pointless to wait and you should be prepared to depart as soon as the new missiles are on board.'

I sat up straighter – likely a response to yesterday's encounter. 'Suits me. It's costing credits every day we stay with little prospect of a cargo. Even Rafe is discouraged. Did she say where she's sending us?'

'LaTrina, Aticor. It's the main hub for Aticor's trade with the drifts. She thinks it offers the best chance of finding work quickly. She sent along the shipping intelligence she's gathered to go over at your leisure,' replied Vynnia, watching me closely, 'And with that decision, Captain, I believe Ten and I need to make something clear.'

'Yes... Launch at will.' It'd be no surprise, I was sure. Wish I knew what I was going to say.

'Talley has been trying to get Ten and I to agree to stay with the ship. We've not agreed to that...'

'Ah, yes, we're in a bit of a drift aren't we?'

Vynnia nodded curtly. 'Yes, we are. We signed on with the idea that's we'd be able to look after Talley. You're aware of her ideas concerning the nature of her parents' death, and her desire to solve the mysteries surrounding it, so you can understand our concern. She's old enough to be on her own, of course. But if she's right, I believe she'll need our help. She may've told you how Ten and I feel about what happened to her parents. Nothing to be done about that now, but we won't fail their daughter, whether she wants us along or not. So you see, Captain, if she does not sail with the ship, we'll stay and attempt to travel with her, like it or not. With the sailing date now only a week away, we wanted to make certain our situation and our intentions clear. We'd not want to leave you in the lurch.'

'Well, Vyn, I never believed Min could convince you to stay. And while I want to keep you both on board, if Min doesn't join us, I'd want you at her side. The problem is, she's made it clear to all of us, that she doesn't want company, and plans to avoid it for the same reason she doesn't want to sail with us...'

'Which is? She's been vague about that.'

'She feels she's a target and anyone close could be in the line of fire. Which is exactly why I'd like to see you travel with her – if she can't be convinced to sail with us...' That may have come out a little awkward. Tenry grinned.

I looked to Tenry and Vynnia. 'However, are we in agreement that her best course is to sail aboard the Lost Star?'

'Aye, Skipper,' replied Tenry.

'Yes, but do you think so?' asked Vynnia. 'You don't seem to be trying very hard to change her mind, especially since you seem so well informed of her plans...'

In a society as small as a space ship, lies have a short half-life and bring only grief. I knew I couldn't lie. On the other hand, operational secrecy, is sometimes necessary. I'd a fine course to thread, though the uncertainties in my own thinking would likely provide the cover I needed.

'When I signed on, I did so after weighing the strengths and weaknesses of my potential owner. The last thing a captain wants is an unreliable owner. I felt that Min, though young and inexperienced in the trade, had the counterbalancing attributes of being smart, responsible, determined, and very brave, so I accepted her offer. You can hardly expect me, two months later, to try to bully her into changing a course of action simply because I don't think it's wise. She knows what I think and still doesn't want to sail with us because she fears she'll be a danger to all of us. I've tried to assure her any such danger is minimal and manageable, but in the end it's her call as owner, and I have to accept that or resign – which I'd do if either of you would accept this job.' I looked to them.

'That would serve no purpose,' said Vynnia. Not a stirring vote of support, but well...

'Right. Now I've come around, reluctantly, to see that she'll not settle for anything less than discovering the heart of the mystery surrounding her parents. I think the advantages of sailing with us far outweigh any minor risks she brings, and have tried to make that case. But haven't pushed my case because I don't think the time is right.'

'And when will the time be right?' asked Vynnia watching me carefully.

'The prospect of separation is too far in the future to make the case. But the logic of our case, with an emotional appeal at the right time – which I believe is just before we sail – may well bring her around. It's one thing to spend a few weeks alone, it's another to say goodbye to everyone you know, perhaps forever. I'm certain that between the three of us, we can make a logical and emotional case that she should, at the very least, sail to LaTrina with us, if only to save substantial credits on a sleeper-pod passage. She could still go on her own way after reaching LaTrina, though I'm confident that after two hundred days aboard, it'll be home and she'll have come around to seeing the advantages of staying on.'

'And what sort of emotional appeal are you planning to make?' asked Vynnia with piercing look.

'Simply that the Lost Star is hers. It was central to her parents' and uncle's early lives and that Hawker gave her the ship for far more than making a dividend. The mystery of the Four Shipmates begins here. She owes it to her Uncle Hawk to take more than ownership – she must take possession of it as well,' I replied readily enough. I don't know exactly what Vynnia expected me to say, but I don't think she was convinced since she said nothing, just watched me.

'You think that'll lift?' asked Ten.

'I do. I used a similar approach to get her to consider signing on as pilot before she even knew she inherited it. I think it will work because I think it's true, and she knows it.'

'Maybe,' allowed Vynnia.

'We'll all work together when the time comes. I'm confident our different approaches will tip the balance our way by the time we sail,' I said, and leaning forward, I added earnestly, 'I give you my word of honor that all three of you sail aboard the Lost Star, or none of you. If we can't get Min to change her mind, I want you to stay close to her. However, I intend to do everything in my power to convince her to sail with us when the time comes. Can I count on your support?'

'Aye, Skipper, replied Ten.

'I have your word of honor that we'll be free to follow Min if you can't bring her aboard?' asked Vynnia.

'Yes. The three of you or none of you. However, I'm as certain as I can be in this quantum universe, that we can bring her around, Vyn. With the three of us working together...'

'All right, Captain, we'll play it your way. Not that we have a choice...' admitted Vynnia.

I let out a breath, but only after they left. I wish I knew my true course. Seeing Min freer and happier here on Lontria had clouded the case I'd been making that I'd a duty to her and the ship to decide, based on my more extensive experience, what was best for both of them. The incident at the races had only made my confusion worse. It brought home not only how much danger Min might be in, but the reality of her concerns as well. Unless Min gave me permission to tell the others of the assassination attempt, it was left to me to decide whether or not to accept her decision. I could find no clear line of flight out of that drift.

02

Later that evening, I was keeping Illy company in the dim-lit bridge during her watch when Molaye docked the gig on the port gangplank. It was late and I'd just about gathered the energy needed to detach my trouser seat from the engine station control console where I was lounging to retire to quarters, when we heard an urgent semi-hushed discussion, a rather one sided, coming from the landing stage well. I glanced a wordless question at Illy who shrugged. I swung my feet to the deck and slipped out into the night-lit passage to see what warranted the urgent whispers.

Molaye and Kie drifted up the well from the landing stage, Molaye very gingerly swung herself on to the deck, while Kie planted himself on the deck beside her. Molaye is tall and willowy elegant, Kie is big and square, built like a spaceer dive's bouncer. Despite his looks, he's a quiet, shy, and even tempered young man with a prodigious knack for both system hardware and software, a worthy student of Rafe. At this moment, however, he was being neither very quiet or even tempered.

'You're not fine,' hissed Kie attempting to keep his voice down.

Seeing how painfully Molaye seemed to move and how Kie was so upset, I stepped out into the main traverse passage, startling them.

'Are you alright Molaye?' I asked with concern.

Molaye nodded her head Yes but before she could answer Kie exclaimed, 'No she's not. Just look at her Captain, she can't move without something hurting. It's that Neb blasted buggy racing. She won't listen to me...'

'I'm fine, Captain,' said Molaye, breaking in. 'I'm just a little stiff and sore from getting jostled in the buggy. Nothing serious.'

'It's all those bumps and crashes they want her to do just to hide her skill...'

'I told you, that's part of the sport. Did it all the time. I'm just not in shape yet...'

Kie was smart enough to appeal to me, 'It's all this looking bad stuff, sir. This getting bounced by boulders and bumped by other buggies just to get better odds on her. It's not fair she has to take a beating just to win a few credits. You can't let them do that to her, Captain!' he exclaimed, and, perhaps realizing that he probably shouldn't tell his captain what he can't let them do, added, 'I'm sorry, sir, but they're not treating her fairly.'

'I want to do it. It's fun,' said Molaye gallantly. 'I don't mind, it's part of the game. If I'm to beat Az, I'll need for him to underestimate me. It's all necessary.'

'I was given to understand that buggy racing was as safe as sitting on a park bench. I've enough to worry about with my other pilot, I don't need to worry about you as well,' I said.

'It is safe. I'm well secured in my seat and you really can't damage the driver compartment in low gravity racing. It's just that when you get bounced, tossed, or bumped you find yourself going several ways at once, and it takes time to get back into the groove of automatically anticipating and adjusting to every move. I just have a few aches from trying too hard to stay on top of the situation. I'm this way at the start of every season...'

'You're a good shipmate, but you don't have to play that game for the gang. They don't need the credits and it'll be years before we cross orbits with the Starsilver again, so even bragging rights means next to nothing.'

'I still want to do it. Kie is just being over protective.' she said boldly meeting my gaze, but adding, 'Skipper.'

Kie was about to object, but I cut him off with a somewhat grim laugh.

'Kie, if you grab the tail of a drift comet you can expect a wild ride,' I said. 'Believe me, I can sympathize, I've got my own share of comets keeping me awake at night. Still, she's worth it.' I try not to have favorites, but Molaye was my first apprentice and I admire her talent and her style. I'd not want it crimped.

He looked at her and nodded.

But like Kie, I also didn't want her banged up just to slip one over on the Starsilver. 'However,' I continued, seeing my way out of this drift. 'I'm afraid duty calls. I've just received the word – we're to sail as soon we exchange our missiles and fuel up. The & Kin armory ship will be alongside in five days, and I'll want everyone on board by that evening. That leaves you only four days to get that race against Az. I don't know if it's possible, but I doubt you can afford to deliberately lose another race if that's your final goal.'

'We're off in five days?'

'Six or so depending on fueling. But I'll want everyone on board before fueling, so our idle days are fast coming to an end. Buggy racing and downside leaves are going to have to be wrapped up in the next couple of days.'

She considered this and nodded. 'It can be done. Is that all? I'd best stop at the medic bay before getting some sleep. I'll be right in the morning.'

'Right. Good night,' I added, nodding to each.

'Good night, Captain,' they said.

I watched Molaye gingerly make her way to the main well and disappear into the darkness.

03

Our idle days were, indeed, over. Everyone not only had their professional duties to look after, but their personal details to attend to as well – like routing their mail to LaTrina. And moving their credit to accounts they could be accessed out of system. Plus buying trade goods and everything else they thought they'd need to get through the long voyage, as well as wrapping up their social lives and saying goodbyes to their mates.

We were about to set out on a whole different type of voyage than I'd known. The Unity Standard astronomical unit (au) is 150 million kilometers, and during the course of one 180-day journey around Azminn, cutting corners, we covered a bit over 3 aus or about 450 million kilometers depending on our planets of call. (Our cross system Calissant to Tiladore run of 2 aus took us 14 days, by comparison.) Of course, more than half that time was spent in orbit, with only two to six days under power sailing planet to planet. Our passage to LaTrina, on the other hand, would take, according to the optimal fuel/time course Vyn and I worked out, 201 days, with 15 days of acceleration and a similar amount to decelerate to cover the 151 aus or over 23 billion kilometers. Our average speed would be nearly an order of magnitude faster than even our Tiladore cross system run.

The Azminn to Aticor is not a densely traveled space lane even in the best of times, so we'd be on our own most of the passage. There's only so much maintenance that needs to be done, only so many fuel pumps and circuit boards that could be rebuilt or swapped out and reprinted, so we'd all have a great deal of time on our hands to tackle all the things we'd been putting off. I'd probably offer four of the crew at a time the option of sleeping several weeks in a sleeper-pod if things got too boring.

Rafe put one last effort into finding us a cargo. He, after all, had his reputation for finding cargoes to uphold. I didn't really want to know what exactly he was doing, but whatever it was, he came up empty. We could do the run in 180-190 days with a paying cargo, but that was just too long a passage when the liners did it in 130 -150 days for the same rate we could offer.

I was running down to CraterCity on a daily basis, looking after the ship as well as myself. I was in and out of Vix Fange & Co and exchanging frequent radio-packets with Min & Co, who was still handling the business end for Tallith Min, arranging for fueling, and other supplies.

My plans for purchasing a large lot of Azminn system luxury items on the ship's account had to be abandoned. We simply didn't have the credits with the upgrades and the fuel we'd need. I considered asking Min for the credits – since it would be a very safe investment as the demand was well established, but feared we were already dipping into her personal fortune, and not knowing how large or small it was, or how many more times we might have to tap it once we got to Aticor, I decided not to.

I did, however, encourage the crew to stock up on their Guild trade goods, (with their previously paid credits) telling them they could have all the space they needed in hold no. 4's strong room if they ran out of room in their cabin/locker.

I was surprised later in the day when Dyn drifted into my office with a very large credit voucher on his com link that he wanted me to use to buy trade goods for the ship. Dyn's reclusive nature allows him to slip under the radar, but the fact of the matter is that as Miccall's heir, he inherited all of the proceeds from the sale of Miccall's half of the Lost Star, which alone had to make Dyn the wealthiest person on board and perhaps even wealthier than our owner herself in terms of credits in the bank. It'd never crossed my mind to approach him for a loan but it was an offer I couldn't refuse, though I insisted, over his objections, to recording the credits as a loan. He refused any return on his loan, saying that the ship could repay the loan from the eventual proceeds when we were more flush with credits, assuring me he'd more credits than he'd ever use and he could think of no better investment than this new phase of the Lost Star's career. I hoped he was right, took his credits, thanked him profusely, and spent the rest of the day buying a quarter container's worth of trade goods. I had it lifted and stowed in no. 4 hold.

04

With all this, I still managed to see Lucky Laye win several races in her quest to meet Az of the Starsilver. At the track I kept an eye out for that slim spaceer in black. However, I saw no sign of her and began to dismiss my original fears.

The final race of the Lucky Star with Lucky Laye at the controls was set for the day before the missiles were to arrive. Everyone was present except Dyn, who insisted on taking the watch and Min, of course. There was no longer any pretext – it was the Az Binric vs "Lucky" Molaye Merlun, Captain Artha Villiant vs Wil Litang and the Starsilver vs the Lost Star. Everyone else on the track was just extras. It was a boisterous and intense rivalry with credits on the line, but Artha and I worked to keep it as good spirited as possible. It helped that nothing we'd done prior to getting Molaye into the upper division had affected Az or the Starsilver combine in the least. Plus, having reached this final race meant giving up the Lucky Laye game so that everything was above board. Artha and I settled on the formal wager between the ships, the loser to pay for the victory feast after the race, and the two crews sat next to each other in the stands to watch the big race and hurl fairly good-natured taunts at each other.

The finer parts of the race escaped me. If you'd ask anyone else aboard, except Dyn, they'd be able to give you a much fuller account. What I can say is that there was some concern on the Starsilver's team that the pack would attempt to exact a little revenge on Az by fair or foul means. (Though I don't think there are actually any foul means, at least none were ever pointed out to me.) He solved that problem by taking the lead within seconds of the start and staying well ahead of the pack. Molaye had to work her way through, but did so quite deftly, so that by the half way point, it was just their two buggies leading the pack, which constituted the real race. They were always within a buggy length or two of each other, the lead changing several times, and as they rounded the final bend in a cloud of dust, they were dead even. Then, just before the finish line, the buggies edged together and hit, sending both swerving, Molaye's buggy swinging 180 degrees around locked on the frame of Az's machine. A second later they skidded across the finish line, Az's buggy pushing the Lucky Star just ahead as he tried to swerve his buggy around, so that Molaye crossed the finish line first, though facing backwards and being pushed by Az's buggy. She was declared the winner – arriving backwards was apparently neither dust nor gas when it comes to winning in crater buggy racing. The situation threatened to turn ugly as our growling teams made their way to the garage, only to find Az and Molaye laughing like lifelong pals. The trick of locking a buggy to the forward bumper just before the finish line is as old as the moons in buggy racing but Az had been caught by surprise – his competitors to date were not of that caliber. I had to admire him, he could've been angry and sulky, but instead was delighted to see it done so deftly, even if he was the victim. The attitude of the drivers quickly spread to the rest of their crews, and we had a fine feast afterward on the Starsilver's credit. (Artha insisted, though I offered to share the cost since the Starsilver crew was a bit poorer... But, they'd not have to face Lucky Laye again.)

The next day, day 18 in Sanre-tay Anchorage, & Kin armory boat came alongside and we spent the better part of it carefully transferring the nuclear laser armed missiles back and forth from our magazine to the & Kin boat. That evening I went down to CraterCity one last time to spend my final evening with my friend Leafa.

### Chapter 33 Sanre-tay Days 19 – 26 – The Charter to Zilantre

01

The gangway may have swung and creaked a bit when I slipped the gig to the dock's capture clamp. I was in too much of a hurry to care. This time.

'You're back early,' said Vynnia who'd stepped out of the bridge and was watching as I swung onto the bridge deck. 'Something wrong?'

'No,' I said absently, adding as I stepped into my office. 'I need to do some work.'

Which made no sense, but my mind was racing. Leafa had passed along some gossip she'd just heard from a client. A gift of the Neb, if true. But I needed more than a rumor told by a companion, to act. I had to work it out...

An hour later I stepped on to the bridge and said, 'Would you please call up the Myzar Drift chart that contains the drift planet Zilantre? I asked Vynnia, as Riv wandered in dressed in pajamas and slippers.

'What's the blasted fire drill for, Wil. I'm supposed to be fueling this packet tomorrow. I need my sleep.'

'Never mind. We'll cancel it,' I replied, as the others I'd signaled – Rafe, Tenry, and Illy hurried in, looking at me with some concern. 'I think I've some good news, a hot tip on a cargo and I want a charter proposal in hand by tomorrow morning. Vyn, have you found the drift planet Zilantre?'

'You've found a cargo, Willy?' exclaimed a shocked Rafe.

'Well, my friend, Leafa may've, and she very kindly tipped me off.'

'Your companion? I've been beaten by a companion!' wailed Rafe. 'Just shove me out the air lock now...'

'Later Rafe,' I said absently. I turned to the rest. 'As you probably know I'd a date with Leafa this evening. Knowing that we'd been looking for an outbound cargo she told me right off that she'd just heard a rumor, a very solid rumor, of a rush cargo for Zilantre and wondered if I was interested. I told her in no uncertain terms I was. She wouldn't reveal the source of the rumor, but from the amount of detail she provided, it had to be one of her earlier clients who's directly involved, so it's likely only hours old. Ah, there's Zilantre which is, according to MoTan's Drift World Guide, a full sized drift world, commercially developed as a gateway world to that sector of the Myzar Drift.'

'Fully terraformed, with four small ignited moons. Non-Unity Standard, but with a large Chartered Trading Company presence with the Patrol policing its approaches. It's a major supply port for a wide swath of the Myzar and fringe Inner Drifts,' added Vynnia scanning the planet's chart entry.

'Right. Leafa said that things have gotten rather hot deeper in the Myzar – some sort of organized raiding or a drift war brewing between the various drift powers and Chartered Trading Companies. Raids on mines and mineral refineries have become commonplace. The companies affected have responded by placing orders for additional guard ships and patrol frigates,' I began. 'I've spent the last hour verifying this information from shipping and mining reports and it all checks out.

'Now, according to Leafa, two sales agents of the Isleta Interstellar Boatbuilders, based on two different planets in the Aticor system, both sold the same four Centurion Sentinel V guard boats available in the Aticor system, to different mining concerns for delivery to Zilantre. The sales contracts were signed only hours apart, as were the purchase orders. And just to make it interesting, the first contract signed was the second to file the purchase order. Of course when this was discovered, a day later when the radio-packets arrived at Isleta's Aticor headquarters, there was a bit of panic, but they realized that the home office and shipyards, which happens to be here on Lontria, had just finished shaking down a series of six newly built Centurion Sentinel Vs, and the delivery window – 190 days – would allow these boats to be shipped from Sanre-tay to Zilantre just within the delivery window.

'At least that's what Aticor Sales thought, and let the contract cancel dates pass while sending the order for the extra four ships on to the home office, blithely unaware of the effects our trade melt down was having on interstellar shipping schedules. Leafa said the order radio-packet arrived today, three days after the departure of the Tri-System Interstellar cargo liner Zephyr – the line that Isleta usually ships with. The next Tri-System ship is not due to arrive for another month, and even if it sails within a week or so of arrival – which is unlikely – it would only get the boats to Aticor in about 165 days from now and it's still a fifty to sixty-day passage from Aticor to Zilantre pushing out the best delivery time to over 215 days, assuming a quick turnaround time in LaTrina transferring the boats to a Zilantre bound freighter. There are five scheduled liners leaving within the next 30 days bound for the Aticor system, but only one is sailing for LaTrina, and it's smaller and slower than the Tri-System ships, so they're unlikely to trim too many days off that delivery time. Isleta doesn't want to lose the sale or their customers by scaling back the orders, nor do they want to lose their profit with the failure to deliver penalties. You can see the potential in this for us. I'm pretty sure we can deliver these four boats directly to Zilantre within the 170 days we'd likely have if we push it. But we must act fast to make that date and head off any competitor...

'But can we carry them?' asked Riv.

'Well, I'm working with the dimensions of the Centurion Sentinel V itself, 44 meters by 11 meters without weapon pods or any indication of crate or carriage size. I'd think they'd keep the crate size to a minimum to save on shipping costs so we should be able to load all four by dismantling the hold partition between 2 & 3. A Neb-blasted job, but we've done it before. Of course we'll need the shipping dimensions and the number of auxiliary containers to be certain, but assuming everything fits, including extra fuel, the fact that we can offer direct service to Zilantre, and meet the promised delivery date with some to spare should give us a good chance of landing this charter. What we need now is hard facts. I want to be at Isleta's doors tomorrow morning with a detailed proposal in hand.

'Right. Rafe, use the ship's office and find out everything you can about how they ship these boats – all the shipping specs, size, tonnage, axillary shipments, the works. And if you can, how much they pay to the lines to ship them.'

'I'll try, Wil, but I have to say, being beaten to a cargo by a companion does not bode well for my efforts. I'm getting too old for this...'

'I've no doubt you can do it, Rafe,' I assured him, too wrapped up in the prospect of a cargo to banter. 'Now, Ten, I'd appreciate it if you'd track down these hot spots of trouble. I'm presuming they're inwards of Zilantre, but let's make sure before we plot our course. Vyn and Illy, would you come up with a course for Zilantre? Riv and I will do some rough estimates to see what we'll need for fuel capacity to make Zilantre in 160 – 165 days with a roughly estimated cargo figure. We'll use my office, feed us the refined info as you develop it. And feel free to poke holes in this plan, I'm doing this all on lift off, so please tell me if I'm missing something.'

We went to work. Rafe dug up information on the shipment specs and prices I needed, no doubt right from the Isleta Interstellar files. Illy and Vyn came up with a tentative plot that would take us along the Azminn to Aticor space lane and through the Helgot Drift at the Anjur Passage, where we'd need to make an almost 90-degree course change away from Aticor to steer for Zilantre along a spur of the Helgot Drift, a passage of 111 aus. We had survey charts of the course, several thousand years out of date, and a few more Guild records of ships making this passage, but few ships from Azminn sailed for Zilantre. LaTrina in the Aticor system was the main port of departure and arrival from Zilantre. Still, there seemed nothing too alarming in the charts or Guild Records. Our tentative course looked to be between 164 and 169 days. Assuming we landed the charter, we'd likely have just over 175 depending on how fast they could prepare the ships for shipping. It seemed a fair margin of error, but the Neb can play its tricks, especially in and around the drifts.

Combining this course with Rafe's cargo data, Riv and I came up with a rough cargo sketch and fuel budget that would require 30 auxiliary fuel tanks that would have to be stored in no. 1 hold. If we could get Isleta's standard shipping rate, we'd be able to earn a very nice profit. Even at current rates, we'd come out well on the right side of the balance, but given the alternative, I was pretty sure they'd be happy to settle for the standard rates. It was late by the time we finished our work.

Vynnia looked in as I summoning the energy to peel myself off the desk chair and slip through the door-panel of my sleeping quarters and to my hammock for a two-hour nap.

'Are you going to consult Talley?'

I shrugged wearily. 'What do you think?' I asked spreading the fingers of my hands that were holding my eyes in and head up.

'It's not my position to say. I was just wondering in light of our previous conversation.'

'I've the authority to sign the contract without her, but yes, I'll invite her along after I grab some sleep. It must be the middle of the night where she is, and we've five hours before the Isleta office opens in Verde Vale. I'll be up in two hours and call her. I'd like her along – I've seen her sales skills; she makes an impression. Maybe this will change her mind. We can hope anyway.'

'Yes. Perhaps it will. I'd best get some sleep as well.'

'Right. Thanks for all your work and by all means get some sleep – take four. I'll send Molaye down to pick up Min if she decides to join us. If we land this contract, we'll be facing a very hectic week...

I was weary enough to fall right asleep, and had to be dragged awake two hours later. I made a cup of cha for myself and radioed Min directly to brief her on the night's developments. She sounded delighted and eager to get involved in the process. I arranged for Molaye to pick her up at the Bramble Vale space boat field in an hour and greeted her on the landing stage when she arrived on board.

'Welcome aboard,' I said as she swung out of the gig's hatch landing on the gangplank.

She was dressed in her casual Lontria style, though with hints of being rushed in the process.

'Good work, Captain.' she said shaking my hand and then patting the heads of the hounds at my side. 'Excellent, in fact. I'll study the details while I put myself together. I still have quarters aboard, don't I?' she added as she hurried on.

'Of course,' I said and followed her to the access well. 'I've not abandoned hope. I'll be in my office and we can go over everything when you're ready.'

She merely nodded. I left her to work on our proposals in my office.

She appeared half an hour later, as I had known her on Calissant, perfectly turned out in blacks and whites, and with her long slim unapologetic mech-legs, striking and enigmatic.

'You look more like yourself, Min,' I said, looking up from the desktop.

'You don't like my new look?' she asked archly, but without a real edge.

'Nice, as a costume, or a disguise. But this is you. Or at least how I think of you,' which may have been more than I needed to say, so I hurried on, 'Grab a chair and I'll fill you in on all the details, since I hope you'll take the lead again. Can I offer you a cup of cha?'

She nodded and called up the proposal on the desk, while I made cha. As with the Tiladore charter, we settled down and hammered out our proposal and sales pitch with Vynnia joining us half an hour later to help fine tune and set out our negotiating limits.

We were at Isleta Interstellar's offices as they opened for business. The first people we dealt with were unaware of the situation – which had me wondering if I'd made a fool of us on a companion's gossip? We persisted and word of our mission eventually reached the people in the clearsteel offices who were aware of the situation. Min presented our proposal and arrangements were made to inspect the ship while they verified the Lost Star's fifty-year Guild record of trading in the system. We still had to wait until the following day for their final decision but they signaled us early to come down and sign a contract. Arrangements were worked out for loading to commence in two days as they worked to feverishly get the boats ready for shipment.

02

Min sat next to me, anchored to one of my office chairs sipping hot cha from the mug's cover straw.

'We did it again,' I remarked carefully. 'We make a good team.'

'Yes, we do,' she replied absently.

'You must admit I've not tried to talk you into changing your mind. Vyn will be furious.'

'I'm sorry about Vyn,' she replied again absently, this time feigned.

'You know I'd like you on board. You know I think that it would be the wisest course no matter what you intend to pursue in the future.'

'Yes, Captain.'

'You wouldn't consider changing your mind?'

'No, Captain,' she replied softly without looking at me. 'You know the reason – that hasn't changed.'

'You know that Vyn and Ten won't stay on board without you.'

She shrugged. 'I've not abandoned hope.'

I looked at her trying to decide just what to say. 'I can't help thinking that your uncle would want you aboard for many reasons, as would your parents. This was their ship, their haven. This should be your first step on a long journey. A safe haven and a chance to learn a little more... You can go on alone once we get to Aticor or beyond. It will save time, credits, and make you far better prepared.'

She gave me a look. 'I'm on to that ploy, Wil. Someday I'll take charge of my ship, but not before I'm ready. Not before I've done what I need to do.'

I shrugged. 'Right. You're the boss. I just promised Vyn I'd try one last time. I'll keep you informed of anything we turn up from the ship's log. It's rather late in the day to give you a new identity now, but I'm certain Rafe can arrange it if necessary. Be very, very careful. And please, take Vyn and Ten along with you. Compromise just that much. They need to feel like they're protecting you. Don't leave them. Take them for my sake as well. I'll have enough to worry about without having to worry about you too.'

She shrugged and looked away. 'Don't worry about me.'

'Right.' And left it at that. More words would change nothing.

After she finished her cha, she went to change back into the Lontria Min and I arranged for Vynnia to run her down in the gig, just to give Vyn one last chance to change Min's mind.

As we said goodbye on the landing stage, I asked, 'Should I send down your gear?'

She shook her head No. 'Put them in the strong room with the rest of the remnants. I'll be back to pick them up someday.'

'Not even your long mech-legs?'

'I'll have new legs grown on one of the First Worlds if I get to one. I can hardly get close to where I need to go as I am now. I'm too well known like this.'

I nodded. 'I'm sure you're right. And keep the Ghost aboard as well?'

'Yes, for now. Feel free to use her if you need to. Right. Goodbye, Captain. Fair orbits. We'll be in touch. And if you find you've time, we can get together to toast our past and future successes before you sail.'

'Once I turn her over to Riv for fueling, I'll have at least a day free. I'll be in touch when I know more,' I promised.

'Right. Then I'll let you get back to work.'

'Fair orbits,' I replied and watched her swing into the gig and returned to work.

03

We spent the rest of the day dismantling and moving the bulkhead between holds 2 & 3 forward to make the hold large enough to accommodate the four boats and the containers containing their spare parts and optional weapons.

They had the first boat in its open framed crate lifted up by a tug to the ship two days later and we began the delicate work of stowing the large container. We spent eight hours stowing the first boat using the ship's two cranes and robots in the holds. The container docks were movable, so all had to be precisely aligned to properly secure the large container to the array of locks on the hold deck. It was slow, precise, nerve wracking work for Molaye, Vynnia, Illy, and I. Fortunately, the shipping containers increased the boat's dimensions by only a meter, so we'd be able to stow the four boats 2x2 filling all of the enlarged hold no. 3. The auxiliary boxes were stowed in the shortened no. 2 hold leaving no.1 for the 30 auxiliary fuel tanks we'd need to see us to Zilantre on time with a prudent reserve. The remaining three boats and the auxiliary containers took another six days to load. I slept whenever I could between the arrival of the boats, as did everyone but the watch. Late on the 26th day of our stay in Sanre-tay, the Isleta shipping crew signed off and we closed the hatches and moved the ship out to the fueling station.

The chief engineer is in charge of fueling, so I turned the ship over to Riv, and found my hammock. Having to load and rig the fuel system for the auxiliary fuel tanks in the no. 1 hold, meant that the whole fueling process would take at least 24 hours. We planned to sail within hours after we completed fueling. All I wanted to do now was to sleep. Tomorrow was going to be another trying day.

### Chapter 34 Sanre-tay Day 27 – Deja Vu with a Spook

01

I awoke nine hours later, rested and ruthless. It was several hours before sunrise in CraterCity so the ship was in its dim-lit night mode. I could hear the subtle thumps as the fueling crew installed the extra fuel tanks in hold no.1. That was the engineers' and the fueling crew's concern, so I stayed clear and brewed a mug of cha. I'd decisions to make, unfortunately. The ancient warning about being careful what you wish for since it might come true had blindsided me. When I'd arrived in Sanre-tay anchorage, I'd hoped to be in the exact position I was in today, and now I regret it. I'd choices I didn't care to make all because Min, Vyn and Ten were either naive, which I thought unlikely, careless, or simply thought I was too lazy, clueless, or gutless to be concerned. They gave me choices I now had to make.

Min didn't need me to look after her. And she'd made it clear she didn't want me to. But I'd a melted glob of gold that said I'd a stake in the game. Where did that leave me? Did I have a strong enough claim and sense of duty to ignore her clear wishes? And well, would it matter? I had this sense that her quest wasn't going to end well no matter what I did. Ending it now – for me – by saying goodbye, good luck, would leave me feeling very bad – I could sense that – but I'd have decades to get over it. On the other hand, playing Captain Brilliant Pax and taking a hand in the game would likely make no difference in the Ultimate outcome – for I wasn't Captain Pax. So in the end, I'd likely be feeling a whole lot worse, though for a much shorter span of time, as I'd share her fate.

I probably needed something stronger than cha, but I sucked a slug down anyway and decided to be ruthless. Or gutless. Could be seen either way. I'd play it her way. She'd go it alone. And to dull the sense that I was taking the easy, gutless way out, I'd say goodbye and good luck to her face. Today would end it.

As for Tenry and Vynnia, if they could manage to tag along with Min, there'd be no question. But I doubted they'd swing it and their services would be lost to both of us. On the other hand, arriving with a cargo in Zilantre orbit rather than hollow and begging for work, would likely make finding work that wouldn't involve the deep drifts a lot easier. With any luck, we'd be able to slip into the Aticor interplanetary trade in a year or two so their services would not be quite so necessary. It was the possibility of using the ship for Min's quest, with deep drift work and iffy dealings, that made them very valuable. In short, letting Min go her own way, made them replaceable. I'd see if Kan Kantis would consider abandoning his prospects with the Distant Star Line for a few years, to take the first mate's berth. Add a pilot with Aticor experience and we'd be set. I'd leave them to follow Min, if they could.

I drained my mug, Min goes on her quest alone. Vynnia and Ten choose their course, and if necessary, I sign on two pilots and sail for Zilantre. Done. Yah, gutless.

02

After a quick meal from the bistro's selection, I called down to & Kin's to order the two drones Vynnia had picked out, arranging to have them delivered once we'd finished refueling. I'd forgotten all about them until Vynnia reminded me after we'd finished loading our cargo. We'd need them now that we had a deadline to meet.

I sent Leafa a broker's commission on the Isleta charter. Litang of the Lost Star was not one to forget favors. I hoped to be back to Azminn sooner or later and I wanted that to be known. Earlier I'd paid Dyn back and still had enough credits for a second quarter box of trade goods. I needed to go down to make those arrangements. Since you can't fly boats off the ship during refueling, I signaled Kan to meet me at the fueling station's landing stage for a lift down to CraterCity. I decided against saying anything to him about a possible berth until I knew how things played out, so we exchanged our final 'fair orbits', as this was his last fare of his day.

It was still night in CraterCity, like when I first arrived, but many places operate around the clock so by mid-morning I finished my rounds of suppliers and had arranged delivery of the trade goods to the ship. I called Min to tell her I was on my way for final instructions, warning her I'd take precautions, so I'd call again when I arrived in Bramble Vale. We'd meet and have lunch there.

An hour later it felt all wrong. Very wrong. My resolve faded as my unease grew. I may be a coward, but this dread seemed more than a simple reluctance to see Min one last time. Rather it was the dawning realization that I was putting her in danger. I took precautions and didn't think I was being followed, but my travels might be traced remotely. Though the alarm of the race track incident had faded, no one had visited Min since then. I realized I shouldn't be taking the chance now, with her sole refuge, sailing within hours.

I was still wrestling with my fears when the levatrain slowed and passed through the airlock to glide to a stop. The doors opened to the Bramble Vale platform. I stared at them clinging to the armrests of my seat, unable to distinguish prudence from cowardice. After the longest pause, the doors slid closed and the train began to move. I closed my eyes and waited for my reaction.

In the darkness of the tube, my breath came easier and dread faded. I traveled two stations further, disembarked, and finding myself in a dissenting crater, opted to remain on the platform and take the next levatrain on to the next Unity Standard community and catch a bum boat back to the ship. Dissenting communities can be rather iffy. And they can be very iffy. An old spaceer claimed there's a community on Lontria where you can be publicly flogged for failing to stand on your left foot – like a stork – when a Phoenix Official of the Green Rank passes you on the street. You could also be flogged for standing on your left foot, if the Phoenix Official is of the Blue Rank, which, you see, requires that you stand on your right foot. All in all, dissenting craters are best avoided by casual travelers.

Having set no specific time to meet, I decided I'd call Min from the ship and get my instructions and say goodbye in my office rather than on a levatrain platform.

The next standard crater up the line was a farming one with a space boat landing field. I took a single car cable line that swung across the crater's patchwork of lush vegetable gardens and small villages to the crater top were I boarded a velowalk through a long tunnel to the space boat field on the outside.

The field was small in the bright unfiltered light of the sun, little more than a shelf carved out of the slope. It had a half-moon shaped terminal with six access tubes for boarding and disembarking passengers. Two of the access tubes had waiting bumboats with for hire notices. I made for the first one, but a large, burly spaceer all but shoved me out of the way to get it first, so I went on to the second boat.

'Buoy Victory 233...' I called out as I ducked through the hatch and stepped into the small gap between the open control console set aft and three double rows of seats facing forward. No one was at the console.

'Anyone aboard?' I asked, peering about the dim lit interior.

'Aye,' said a quiet voice and there was a stirring in one of the forward seats. A slim figure rose and turned, darter in hand. 'Welcome aboard, Captain Litang,' she said with a cold smile.

'Bloody Neb,' I muttered and leaped towards the open hatch. There was a flash of blue light.

03

A stinging pain.

'Wake up, Captain Litang. We've not all night,' said the quiet voice from the bumboat.

I thought I opened my eyes, but wasn't sure. It was dark and there was a sharp pain in my head. This wasn't the bumboat – I must have been taken... somewhere. Gravity? Yes. Still Lontria. It was cold. And as my eyes adjusted, I found I was wedged in the corner seat of a small, leathery smelling compartment with lighter squares on either side. Curtained windows, I decided, when they stirred and I felt a faint breeze, scented of pines. Night in some crater, either far from where I started, or many hours later. I tried to move, but my hands were secured behind my back and perhaps to the seat as well.

A dark figure moved in the deep shadows in the opposite corner, bringing a sharp cutting lash across my knee – a strap or rod – snapping my chain of thought. I yipped a 'Neb-damn you!'

'Good, you're awake. We're pressed for time. Let's focus on the business at hand. Are you willing to lead me to Tallith Min?' she asked leaning forward into the faint twilight from the curtained windows. She had to be the woman at the race course, the assassin at the yacht club.

I said nothing, which earned me two more deliberate slashes across my knees with the strap she held. The lashes burned long after they struck.

'Once more, Tallith Min?'

'On Calissant,' I muttered, after deciding that maybe I should talk after all.

'Oh, please, Captain, I haven't, time,' she panted between vicious slashes, this time across my shoulder and neck.

So much for talking.

'As much as I enjoy this, I know she's alive and here. I've had spy bots monitoring your ship, so I've a good idea where to look. Your course today only confirms this. Too bad you decided not to meet her. I don't really need your help, but it'd make everything so much easier if you cooperated. I intend to get your cooperation – one way or another. So to save time, why don't you just tell me now where to find her.'

'Why, in the Dark Neb, would I do that?'

'Because you're fond of your life?' she replied lightly with a faintly seen smile. 'We've unfinished business between us. I thought perhaps we might settle it to our mutual satisfaction. You lead me to Tallith Min, and I won't put a plasma dart between your eyes – where it should have gone the first time.'

'A bluff. You're desperate. You don't know where Min is and I'll wager your employers are very unhappy with you. Took the credits without delivering the desired results, did you? I bet you're looking at a plasma dart between your eyes as well.'

'Oh, I'm in a far better position than you,' she hissed while delivering several more stinging blows that I took on my shoulder. My lightweight clothing did little to soften them. 'See?'

I cursed and bracing my feet against the floor, lunged at her, only to have it end in a painful jerk – my bound hands were indeed secured to the seat as were my legs. I toppled painfully into a heap on the seat. She gave me a few more vicious slashes on my other shoulder and neck.

'Need help?' said a gruff voice from the outside.

'No, thank you Max, we're just establishing an understanding,' said my captor. 'Now, as I was saying, we're both pressed for time, so here's the deal Captain Litang. Since you weren't my target, if you cooperate and help me find Tallith Min, I'll let that unfortunate miss slide. Once my business with Min is done I'll set you free. I have, however an alternative plan, which is to kill you and use your death as bait to draw Min out. Remember, I've a good idea where to look for her, and I suspect the death of her ship's captain will stir her from hiding. The choice is yours, but it must be made now.' Now being accompanied with another blow.

I struggled to sit up. It was awkward with my hands tied, but I managed to brace my legs enough to get upright again in the low gravity.

'You're still bluffing,' I panted. 'You don't know anything. You may have tagged me at the race track, but it didn't work. I did a radio scan aboard the ship. Nothing. And all this talk about monitoring the ship and listening to crew – I'd be a fool to believe that. You wouldn't need me if it was all true.'

'Oh, it's amazing what just a mere sliver of a device under the skin can do. Some track, some listen, and no one pays much attention to the little sting when it's inserted. You've one in your back, it simply doesn't transmit when it's out of range and so it would've been inactive inside the hull of your ship. Too bad you noticed me, though. It would've made things simpler for both of us if you hadn't.'

'Well, I did notice you, though I must admit I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to try something like this. It's your express ticket to Felons' Riff. A space boat crash on Calissant and a botched assassination two months ago both have the Azure Night in common. I wager you're one of the Azure Night's system pilots. Up till now, that's just the fantasy of a babbling spaceer. But if I turn up dead, even if it's another so called accident, it'll be one too many coincidences. I've two Patrol Reservists on my crew, who'll make sure there's a swift investigation. And, well, I'd think Lontria's far from an ideal place for murder. There's too many security interfaces. Within half an hour of finding my body, they'll trace me to your space boat, to this crater, to you, and right back to the Azure Night. Bloody Neb, they won't even need to find my body. If I'm not back aboard ship by the time it's ready to sail, the alarm will be raised. Why, I might have been out of contact with my ship long enough already. Lontria Security could be tracing us here even as we speak...'

'You're rather naïve, Captain,' she said with a faintly seen sneer. 'Everything is in hand. I am quite competent to deal with Security.'

'I doubt it. Oh, you might still have a slight chance to escape, now, if you act promptly. But you'll have none if you kill me and hang about to spring your trap. That'd be a certain ticket to Felons' Rift since the botched affair on Calissant tells me that you're not all that competent,' I said bitterly. Not the wisest thing to say, but what the Neb? I'd nothing to lose.

'Yes, Captain, it was very unprofessional. A hurried job. All the wharf rats had to do was disable you and Min and then disperse. But when it looked like they weren't even up to that simple task I had to intervene. They panicked when sparks started flying. Wouldn't do to kill them all,' she said quietly. 'So I allowed them to hustle me away without making certain I'd completed my mission. That was a mistake. However, since I'm honor bound to file an accurate report of my mission, my superiors know of my failures. I am now correcting them. I have you, I'm close to finding Min, and operating undetected in the shadows of the Unity is my specialty – I'm very good at it. And actually it's much easier operating on Lontria – it has many easily accessible dissenting communities that offer bolt holes to disappear into. You needn't worry about me, I'm in a far better position than you are. So what's it to be? Life or death?'

'Oh, it's death, either way. I'm not naïve. I know too much. My only hope is that you're a not a complete fool and realize that your one chance to live – with all your parts – is to give this whole affair a miss and run while you still can, trusting any complaint I'd make would not be considered serious enough to be pursued with any dispatch. Really, letting me go and running is your only chance of avoiding ending up either a gelded muck-eater for the rest of your life or dead at the hands of the employer you failed.'

'I'm touched by your concern, Captain. However, I'm bound by honor to accept the consequences of my failures as well as my successes. I'm expected to succeed in my assignment or die trying. So you see, I have no options. I'll not let you go, and I'll not run for cover. Last chance. Will you lead me to Min?'

'No. Can't. We took precautions from the beginning. I don't know where to find her,' I shrugged. 'Believe it or not.'

I was dead, but Min had a chance. That was some comfort. But candidly, not much. I shivered. It wasn't the cold.

She sighed. 'As a matter of fact, I do. Doesn't matter. It was worth a few minutes. I'm afraid I did mislead you a little. I don't have a choice about you either. Since you're a witness to my failure, I've been ordered to eliminate you as well.' And picking up the darter from the seat next to her, she shot me. Again.

### Chapter 35 Sanre-tay Day 28 - Deja Vu with Blades

01

I was shaken painfully awake. Again.

I felt a cool hand on my bare shoulder and felt a sibilant whispered, 'I believe it's my husband,' warm against my cheek

I tried, and failed, to made sense of that. I had to be alive – I hurt all over – but for a reason that escaped me, that seemed unlikely.

I pried an eye half open... And when it came in focus, I noted a high and ornate ceiling with a border of gilded plaster work. I shifted my gaze downwards – a large room sketched in soft grey light from tall windows behind thin, elaborate curtains on my left.

The cool hand shook me again, 'Do something, my dear. You need to go.'

Right. I tried opening my other eye.

Turning my head, I saw her, the spaceer reflected in the clearsteel doors – my assassin – resting her head on one elbow next to me looking down at me. She wore a cool, amused smile, her dark grey and icy eyes bright with anticipation, her loose black hair falling over her bare shoulder to the pillow in soft waves.

There was a commotion, a pounding and scraping, and muffled voices from the dim corner of the room, across the covers of the wide bed. Beyond the carved foot-board of the bed I made out a painted white door in the corner and along the wall, a gilded edged mirror over a white dresser. And in the mirror, dimly seen, the reflection of a large bed with a high, elaborately carved headboard with two people under its covers. One of them was me. Everything was white, silver, pale gold and soft grey-green shadows.

She slowly drew her leg off of mine and half rising said in a loud urgent whisper, her sarcastic smile taunting me. 'It's my husband. Do something. You need to go. If he finds us like this...'

The door was flung open banging against the doorstop. We both looked to see a hulking man burst in with others in tow. She sat bold upright in bed with a wailing shriek, clutching the coverings, dragging them half off of me, revealing her slim naked back and long raven hair in disarray.

'Nadine! Oh, Nadine, my dear, what have you done?' exclaimed the hulking man in a heavy accent as he bounded forward, leaving the rest of the people peering from the far corner.

'Max! Oh Max!' my assassin exclaimed in alarm.

I closed my eyes hoping to escape this Gothic nightmare, unable to think clearly or even think at all.

'I would not believe! I could not believe! My wife has betrayed me! My life's partner, my wife! Alas, I was mistaken! You have made yourself a whore, a whore! My wife a whore... My honor, oh my honor!' His accent and word choices made him hard to follow and sounding like something out of an ancient operetta. Such a strange nightmare.

'Oh, Max! Max my dearest! I am so sorry! Please forgive me! Please, my love! This was the last time I swear! He, he insisted! He threatened to expose this foolish affair. To bring shame on you and me, if I did not agree to sleep with him one last time. I'm so sorry, so very sorry. He said he was going away and may not come back, and I thought it best to let him have his way, as he would be gone and I would be free...' she earnestly pleaded in the same dissenting accent using the same comic-opera phrasing.

A strange and badly scripted nightmare.

I was roughly pulled upright by hard vice-like hands on my shoulders. I opened my eyes to see the red, vicious face of Max glaring at me. 'You beast!' he shouted shaking me.

I recognized him now – the hulking spaceer who'd pushed me aside at the space boat field.

'You black-hearted scoundrel! You have made a whore of my dearest wife! You have ruined my life!' he roared and rearing back, released a hand from my shoulder and struck me in the face with an open hand, sending my head reeling to one side.

As the stars cleared I knew I wasn't dreaming or in some immersive-vid.

'You will die today, before the sun is over the rim!' he bellowed. 'I demand satisfaction. You have ruined my wife and my life!' And turning to almost a dozen people who had been drifting into the room, he bellowed. 'Send for an Honor Judge. This sordid affair must be settled, now!'

There were two fully dressed men watching from the corner of the room, one dressed in black and bearded, the other young and in a blue uniform. The bearded man turned and nodded, sending the uniformed one slipping through the gathering throng and out the door.

The dim shape of what was happening began to dawn, though it was far outside any previous experiences. I asked myself, What would Captain Miccall or the Four Shipmates – or Brilliant Pax do? Well, none of them would lay about being rough handed and slapped to start.

With my head still ringing, I brushed his hand off my shoulder and finding my voice, demanded, 'What's the meaning of this farce? Who are you? What in the Neb are you? And what are all of you doing in here?' This last at the gathered mob, all but one still in pajamas, robes and slippers. 'Get out!'

They just stared back at me, unmoved.

The assassin, Nadine was sobbing quite convincingly now, 'Oh, please, Max. Let this affair rest. Let him go. This is between the two of us.

'Never!' growled Max. He shall pay with his life for stealing your honor and my self-respect.'

'Everyone go! Please everyone go!' Nadine sobbed.

A few of the onlookers shuffled back a step, but others from the hallway used the opportunity to slip in to get a better view. This was theater and no one seemed willing to miss it.

I'd no idea who or what was an Honor Judge, but the next scene seemed to depend on him, so I took the opportunity to get my bearings.

The room was furnished, from the frames of the paintings on the wall to the dresser and occasional chairs, in an over-ornate style – white, gilded and carved. The grey light in the room came from tall windows behind thin curtains. It was a bedroom, probably a hotel room, for the spectators seemed neither family or servants. The fellow in uniform who left to bring the Honor Judge was likely a clerk and the gent with the beard, perhaps the hotel's manager. From the way Max talked, his heavy accents and awkward phrases, and the way Max and the manager were dressed – in antique fabrics and styles, this had to be a dissenting throw-back society, modeled after an ancient Earth or early Earth settled planet's culture, one of thousands scattered across the Nebula's moons.

So how did I get here, naked, and in bed with an assassin? I recalled boarding the bumboat, the blue of the stun-level plasma dart, and the awakening in the dark for a brief, painful interrogation, and the blue flash again. I recalled the scent of pines and the chill and how the box seemed to move, so it was probably some sort of mock-ancient vehicle. But into this room? I glanced back at the windows, or more likely glass doors leading to a balcony. In Lontria's low gravity, it would've been easy to hoist me up to the balcony in the darkness of night. Nadine may have hauled me up herself after checking in, but more likely Max slipped in and helped arrange this dramatic tableau.

I realized sitting naked in bed with an angry, brutal looking husband pacing and occasionally raging at me and my supposed lover, was not the strategic position I needed to shape the coming events. My clothes were the first order of business. Looking about, I found them, and hers, artfully scattered around a chair in the shadows beyond the window – a carefully choreographed still life of passion. I threw off the bed covers, stood, and brushing past the still blustering Max, made for the chair to get dressed. The assembled crowd gasped in shock, nudity must be a local taboo. Not that I cared, they'd no business being here.

'Get out, you gaping idiots!' I yelled. 'This is a private room, not a Neb-blasted theater! Get the Neb out, all of you! What manner of people are you? Have you no sense of shame?' I added, standing naked and pointing to the door. Whether it was my words or the fact that I seemed to have no sense of shame that drove them out into the hallway, save the bushy faced manager, I couldn't say and didn't care. They went no further than the hall outside, however.

I quickly picked out and donned my clothes from the collection by the chair – women in this society seemed to wear an awful lot of things – and wrapped my com link around my wrist. I turned to Nadine and Max who had stopped their squabbling to watch me. 'I don't know what your game is, but I'm not playing it. Good day.'

'Where are you going?' growled Max. 'Stop him.' This to the hotel manager. 'The yellow coward will not escape his fate!'

'I'm returning to my ship, and you'll not stop me... I've had my fill of this farce.' Max was built on a scale that he probably could stop me, but I was angry enough now that I was ready to see him try.

'Not until honor is satisfied, you spineless coward. No, Herr Captain, you're not returning to your ship standing up. I intend to put a cold lead bullet through that black heart of yours. You've been challenged to a duel and in New Prusza you can't run from it, no matter how big a coward you are!'

'No, Max. Please don't kill him! Please Max... I share the blame!' exclaimed my Nadine. How she could say that without laughing, I didn't know.

Fortunately, there was a disturbance in the hall to put an end to that act – the arrival of the Honor Judge and his assistant. I used those few moments to consult the information that had been automatically transmitted to my com link when it had crossed into this community from the outside. I learned, via the neural link of my com link, that I was in Prusza, a large, multi-crater throw-back society. Its laws and customs were available to me from the com link as if I had memorized them myself.

A quick check told me that it was, indeed, legal to kill a person in a duel in Prusza. And in the case of adultery, it was legal to demand immediate satisfaction. And further, in this type of affair I could not decline the challenge. If I refused to fight, the authorities would be called and I'd be tied to a ring in the ground and shot by Max. Cuckolding Prusza's husbands is frowned on. Nadine had indeed found a legal way to kill me and from their accents and clothing, they may actually be part of this community so no suspicion would fall on them. The sinister beauty of all this was that the squalid nature of the affair and the legality of my death would likely insure that it would be quickly covered up, least said the better. I glanced at Nadine. She'd been watching me with her cool grey eyes in my brown study and had seen the light of understanding dawn on my face. I caught just a flicker of a smile when she saw me realize what she'd done.

Would it draw Min out of hiding? I didn't know. Cold comfort.

In the meantime, Max had been talking to the Honor Judge, demanding immediate satisfaction, to which the Honor Judge readily agreed under the circumstances, adding that the dueling park was available, he'd just returned from an earlier affair settled at first light.

'Send around to the armorer,' Max growled. 'Dueling pistols. We shall settle this like men. He'll not sleep with another man's wife again.'

The Honor Judge nodded and turned to his assistant to give the order for the weapons.

'Wait, sir.' I called out. 'Since I'm the one who's been challenged, I believe the choice of weapons is mine.'

He turned back, gave me a bland look, and nodded. 'That is correct, sir.'

Having no experience with darters, much less throw-back pistols, a duel with them would amount to no more than a simple execution. He'd have to work harder than that...

'Since dueling swords and daggers are an acceptable choice of weapons for this type of an affair, I'll defend my honor with them,' I said without a glancing back at Max to see his reaction. I hadn't been sparring with Barlan these past fifteen years in Mycolmtre's two blade style fencing to have any doubt that a sword and a dagger offered my best chance of escaping Nadine's trap alive.

'Honor! Ha! Blades will allow me to savor my revenge a little longer,' sneered Max, brightly enough.

The Honor Judge inclined his head gravely. 'As you wish, sir.' Turning to his assistant, 'Dueling swords and daggers to the Castle grounds.' And back to us, with a quick sidelong glance towards Nadine, still clutching the bed clothes to cover her nakedness, 'If you will follow me, we can proceed to the grounds and prepare the field.'

I glanced back as I followed him out. If my choice of weapons alarmed her, she didn't show it at all. She flavored me with a brief bright, triumphant smile and a mocking goodbye kiss.

'Do both of you have gentlemen to act as seconds?' the Honor Judge added as we reached the hallway, the spectators opening a lane for us while he discretely closed the door behind us.

'My driver will act as mine,' said Max.

'No, but one's not necessary,' I said.

'Excuse me, sir. If you will allow me, I'm willing to act as your second. My name is Doctor Hans Wissen. I am staying here on holiday.'

Doctor Wissen was a spare, trim gentleman with a grey pointed beard in a grey tweed walking suit standing on the fringe of the curious crowd which filled the hallway. I gave him a hard look. Already dressed – another of the gang?

'Wil Litang, Captain of the Lost Star,' I said with a brief nod of greeting. 'May I ask why; given the creature I'm portrayed to be?'

He shrugged carelessly. 'A second is necessary. One will be chosen from the crowd, should it come to that. And since you are a stranger, it is a simple act of courtesy,' he said with apparent sincerity. 'Your character, or lack of it, will be decided on the field of honor. Until,' here he shrugged again, 'you need a second.'

He struck me as sincere. And it didn't seem to matter, in any event, so I nodded. 'That being the case, Doctor, thank you.'

He nodded, and turning to the Honor Judge said. 'I must fetch my bag. No need to wait. I shall catch up.'

I sighed and glanced at the Honor Judge, who'd been standing behind me, no doubt making sure I'd not bolt. He nodded, and we proceeded down the hall to the stairs that led to a dark wood paneled lobby, while the spectators rushed to their rooms to throw on some clothes so as not to miss the final act.

It was very cool and damp in the predawn twilight – the dome here must have been designed to reflect more radiation to produce a cooler than normal climate for Lontria. The morning shower must have just dissipated for the air smelled of earthy wet stones and tangy pines. The street was narrow, puddled, paved in glistening cobbled stones and lined with grey stone and red brick buildings built in some ancient Earth pattern.

Our small party, Max and his driver, the Honor Judge, myself, and several hastily dressed men from the hotel, strode swiftly in long, low gravity strides through the empty streets, the rhythmic clattering of our footfalls loud in the silence. With time to think, I glanced at my com link to determine how much time had elapsed – nearly seven hours since I boarded the bumboat, half a moon away. The Lost Star should just be finishing fueling and I should've been back aboard hours ago. Blast and damn. I tried calling the ship, but could not connect. Prusza's dome was likely blocking the signals – these throwback communities often did that to keep technology at some mythical ideal level.

I'll confess that in my early years of learning two bladed fencing I'd romantic dreams of some day needing it. I'd grown out of that. Now, in the span of two months, ever since I'd crossed orbits with Tallith Min, I've had to call to use those skills twice in life or death situations. The imagined romance I found notable only in its absence. I walked in a mix of anxiousness (fear), eagerness, and anger with a churning gut. It struck me once again, I needed to be careful what I wished for.

Doc Hans, half out of breath, pulled up alongside as we entered through a stone gateway, a dark wooded park in the brooding shadows of a tall, grim stone building, presumable, the castle.

'Do you know your opponent?' he asked.

I shook my head No. 'It's a comic-opera sham,' I said bitterly. 'You'd not believe my story. It's operatic as well. Doesn't matter.'

'Oh, I'm rather curious, Captain. I'm fond of live drama, and I found the performance rather unconvincing, too operatic, as you say, to be authentic. But, I'm not a native, which might explain it. My wife is Pruszian, so we split our time between Prusza and the Met.'

I gave him an appraising look. Talking would keep my mind occupied, so I said, 'As you wish...' And very briefly outlined the story from the Yacht Club to date.

'...So you see, they think they've found a way to kill me legally and in a manner that will likely be hushed up and forgotten.'

'Can you handle a sword at all?' he asked, with some concern.

'Better than a pistol,' I said with a grim laugh. 'I've fenced as exercise under a master, so I know how, in theory. This, of course is far different.'

'Not as much as you might think. You'll find your skills will not desert you. The gleaming edge of a blade focuses your mind quite remarkably.'

'Personal experience?'

'Oh, no. I've attended only occasionally as a physician in attendance when asked. But I've seen indifferent swordsmen perform remarkable feats. Very few die, by the way. It should end before anyone is fatally injured.'

'That'd not serve their purpose. This one may be different.'

By then we'd traversed the dark woods under large trees and found ourselves in an open, flat grassy clearing with the walls of the castle on one side and a small misty lake below a steeply falling hill on the other. Beyond the little lake, in the far distance, a sliver of golden sunlight began illuminating the crags of the crater rim above the timber line as the new day arrived in Prusza.

We stripped to trousers and boots. I noted the pale red welts on my shoulders, and arms where Nadine had struck me during my first interview. They hurt as I moved but I didn't think they'd hinder me. Not with my life in the balance. I stretched and warmed up as we waited for the weapons, jumping about, looking the fool, to get a feel for how Lontria's gravity would affect my footwork. I'd practiced in the ship's inertial gravity while accelerating and in free fall with magnetic boots, but every move would be subtly different in Lontria's .21 standard gravity and I wanted to get the feel of it, before I was facing sharp steel.

A crowd was gathering in the shadows of the trees as we waited for the weapons, along with the official doctor, and a Civil Guard to keep the fight legal. Doc Hans was called over to go over the rules with Max's second and the Honor Judge.

I felt that sudden eerie chill, and glancing around, found the dark haired assassin had arrived, looking demur with her hands clasped behind her back, joining the throng of onlookers on the edge of the field of honor. She was dressed in the local style, an ankle length grey dress, a white blouse with a high lace collar under a short black jacket with its collar and cuffs colorfully embroidered, with a grey felt hat set at a rakish angle, her dark hair hastily tied back with a black ribbon.

Having caught my eye, she flashed me a brief smile and drifted, spaceer fashion, towards me, watched, with evident disdain by the women from the hotel who'd come to see me get my just reward. From her manner, I could sense her sarcastic delight in their disdain. As she neared, I could see that though she had set her face in a study in somber seriousness, her icy grey eyes, sparkled with mischief.

'What do you want?' I snapped, hoping to put her off. I didn't need this now...

She looked at me in mock sadness, and shook her head sadly while laughing with her eyes. 'Don't be cross with me, Wil. I must decide how to play the final scene.'

'Hopefully not as melodramatic as the one in the hotel,'

'Oh, that's how they do things here – that's how they do everything,' she replied, with a little staged shutter and a fleeting smile. 'I must decide if you're to be my brave hero, killed attempting to free me from my brutal, arrogant lout of a husband, or if you're a dashing rake of a spaceer who's led this poor naïve Pruszian housewife so very far adrift.' She paused as if to ponder the question – clearly enjoying herself she added, 'What role would you prefer?'

'It doesn't matter; I intend to win. So go away.'

She shook her head. 'Don't make it hard, my dear. Max assures me that he's every bit as adept with a blade, as he is with a pistol. He doesn't lose duels. So you see, I must decide how I'm to shed my tears when you're dead. Should they be tears of joy as I cling to my brave, triumphant husband, or bitter tears of sorrow as I cradle your poor dead body in my lap?' she mused in mock seriousness, all the while coolly taunting me with her laughing eyes.

'Don't care. Go away.'

'I know I'm being foolish,' she continued, ignoring my ill will. 'But I so want to make this affair a work of art. A matter of professional pride, you see. '

I stared into her bright, icy eyes and shivered again. Still, I'd not let her intimidate me, so I replied, 'Well, if you really want my opinion, I'd say that Max, even on my short acquaintance, plays the brutal lout like he was born it – and probably was. I, on the other hand, have neither the looks nor arrogance to make a believable rake any more than you can successful pass yourself off as a naïve Pruszian housewife. I suspect yon gallery has already pegged both Max and I as two of your many fools, and bigger fools than most for fighting over a woman like you. Shedding even a single tear would be out of character for you.'

'Oh Wil, how can you be so bitter... after last night?' she asked brightly, unfazed by my venom.

'Oh Nadine,' I replied sarcastically. 'I find it easy enough, after last night. Besides, I rather doubt you're capable of producing convincing tears of sorrow on demand...'

'Ha! You'd be surprised by all the skills I've been trained in, including crying on demand. Too bad you'll never live to see me do it. But you're right, I can't play the wayward little woman, so I'll weep bitterly over your poor corpse...' she replied somberly – though her dark grey eyes were watching me merrily.

'I'll make no promises,' I replied catching sight of Doc Hans approaching, adding grimly, 'Now run along, I have your husband Max to attend to.'

She glanced beyond me. No doubt at her husband, and stepping close, put her cool hands on my bare shoulders, and pulling me close, kissed me, for a long second or three, before she pushed me away.

Looking into my eyes, she said very softly, her eyes almost serious, 'Die gallantly, my dear Wil,' and turned and walked away to join the throng under the trees at the edge of dueling grounds.

'Captain,' said Doc Hans, 'We need to select our weapons and review the rules.'

'Right,' I turned to follow him.

'What was that about?' he asked as we walked towards the gathered officials.

I shook my head. 'Who knows? Play acting. A cat playing with a captive mouse. Or maybe she's just motivating Max... All I know is that I intend to disappoint her and not die.'

We joined the small gathering about the Honor Judge. Max glared at me, that kiss rather made him, the supposed husband, look the fool. Motivation, I suppose. All parties authenticated the formal dueling document and Max, being the challenger, paid the Honor Judge his fees – actual money and prudently upfront – and we chose our weapons, two identical dueling swords and two long daggers with cross bar hilts. They differed only slightly in the grip, weight and length from those I was used to. The Honor Judge stated the rules simply, we were to fight until one of us could no longer continue, as agreed on by the Honor Judge and at least one of the seconds.

We took our places. Max, blades in hand, seemed to have put aside his outraged husband act and was now the consummate professional, testing his weapons and giving me dark wolfish glares. I ignored him and glancing around, found Nadine on the edge of the crowd, eager to see the color of my blood. I gave her a sarcastic salute with my blade which she returned with a nod and a bright, and equally ironic, smile as I took my guard position. My heart was pounding and my legs seemed rather shaky, even in low gravity. The Honor Judge dropped a handkerchief and as it reached the ground, Max leaped forward and the duel began.

Max, with an arrogant smile, aggressively attacked, banking on his greater strength and longer reach. The ringing clang, clatter and grunts of his attack sounded loud in the hush of the grove as I carefully parried and warily retreated, making sure I kept in contact with the ground and circled away from his dagger side. His attack was showy but simple, allowing me to settle down, focus and seek the rhythm and flow of his attack. Though he had strength and reach, he needed to kill me, which would eventually force him to take risks once he decided I wasn't going to be simply butchered. Still, I couldn't parry and retreat forever – free fall, even with daily exercise, doesn't do much for your stamina, so I studied the movement of his sword arm which would be my target, to nullify his longer reach. Hopefully I'd do enough damage on his arm in a short enough time to weaken the strength and dull the speed of his attack.

I'd no idea how long we'd sparred, likely less than a minute, when I decided that there was no longer any point in delaying the resolution, so I launched my counter attack – parry, parry, feint, check and envelopments to engage and hold his blade while I leaned in along his off (non-dagger) side to slash at his arm with my dagger. Within seconds I'd drawn two gashes on his forearm, neither deep nor too damaging, but drawing bright red blood and giving him something to think about.

I doubt he'd ever fenced with two blades as he did nothing with his dagger, holding his left arm positioned for balance only. So much the better. I stepped up the pace, feinting with my dagger to distract and drive him back. I slipped in, parrying his sword down and out with my dagger while raking the tip of my blade along his forearm up to the crook of his arm, burying the tip into his flesh. He made a hasty retreat and I followed, beating his blade and attempting to envelop it and carry it off with his weakened arm and grip. His arm was red now in fresh blood, while I had only a few minor nicks on my ribs where my parries had not quite cleared his blade. He was constantly falling back now, smile gone, grimly watching me as intently as I watched him. He'd have to change his approach soon, as I was pressing my advantage, though warily.

With a series of lightning feints, he launched a flashing lunge, beating my blade away and forcing me to evade his driving blade by falling nearly to the ground, steadying myself on my dagger in the ground. In the low gravity, lunges can be launched from afar, but once airborne, you've limited maneuverability and agility and it carries you far beyond your target, allowing your opponent time to recover and perhaps attack. I was back on my feet and on guard before he'd landed and turned, but had no time to follow up. Undaunted, he continued to press this new line of attack, carefully gauging his lunge to be able to land and turn just quick enough to defeat any counter attack.

On his fifth lunge, I reacted too aggressively to his feint and failed to parry his lunge before he had his blade inside my guard. I managed to fall away and catch his blade in the guard of my sword to limit the blow to a glancing cut along my rib cage – only the fact that he had held his feint a fraction of a second too long allowed me to save my life. The clash and tangle of our blades staggered his airborne lunge and I was able to twist and swing my dagger up, deeply raking his sword arm and shoulder as his impetus carried him wildly by.

He gasped and his sword went flying, but landed near where his lunge took him. He flung his dagger in my direction and snatched the fallen blade with his left hand.

I dodged the dagger and glanced down at the wound on my side. The blood was just beginning to well up along the cut, perhaps fifteen centimeters long, and deep enough to touch bone. I didn't feel it yet – the blades were razor sharp, but I could still move my arm, though with more effort. It could have been worse. Still I'd need to end this soon.

I jumped to attack almost before he had the sword in hand. He beat my attack off and retreated, his defense, in any case, nearly as good as it had been right handed. Still, I pressed my attack, focusing on penetrating his defense with my dagger to weaken his left arm. Our blades flashed and clanged and his arm began to bleed with the slashes I scored. But I, too, felt the warm blood as it began to run down my side and every movement of my arm was now an effort. Desperate, he lunged with a flurry of feints and attacks that I was only able to parry from my neck with my dagger. The tangle of our blades again slowed his lunge and twisting, I slashed down on the back of his far leg as his lunge carried him by. He collapsed as he landed. There was new blood on my shoulder. And my breaths were being grabbed by the lungful, but he was down, twisting into a sitting position and attempting to push himself upright against the light gravity. I leaped forward, feinting for his head and followed it with a swipe for his other leg, landing a glancing blow that nevertheless sent him tumbling across the grass in the light gravity. I followed him and hooking his blade in my guard, twisted it from his weakened hand and sent it flying, some ten meters away.

Even as I stepped back to glance at the Honor Judge and Max's second, I caught his swift movement in the corner of my eye and just managed to raise my arm to shield my face against the flash of his dagger which he'd found in the grass behind him. It hit my arm at less than an ideal angle, and was thrown with his weakened right arm, but it struck and tore a deep gash before I shook it out. Had it hit my face or neck, I wouldn't be writing this. As it was, I gasped, and no longer able to hold my sword, dropped it.

He rolled to collect his sword, so I dropped my dagger and grasping the sword left handed, lunged, slashing at his reaching arm, hitting the hand reaching for his sword, all but cutting it off. He gasped, saw the blood pumping from the stump and sank down on his back, clutching it.

I lowered my sword and leaning on it, looked to the Honor Judge and the seconds.

All three had dropped their handkerchiefs, ending the duel. I took a few steps, stopped and was sick. Not so very gallant, I thought, I wiped my lips, and not so dead either... And with that thought, I realized what she'd been up to with her play acting before the duel. I started and stared about me, searching for her amongst the gallery, now either streaming on to the field to get a better look at poor Max's blood, or turning away for their homes or hotel and their breakfasts.

She was already a mere ten meters away. On her lips, a wild, triumphant smile, in her dark grey eyes, my necessary death – with just a hint of sadness. I made a stumbling leap backwards and raised the sword before me.

'Not a step nearer,' I croaked, still gasping for air.

Neither my words nor my sword gave her pause. I had to die in her arms, and quickly while everyone was paying attention to poor Max. She deftly blocked my sword down and out of line with her right arm, careless of the consequences and closed to embrace me. In that fleeting instant, I caught sight of a long thin white blade suddenly appearing in her left fist.

With what little energy, concentration, and training I had left to call on, plus a great deal of fear and panic, I leaped backwards, and in the low gravity, far enough back to twist and bring the sword, in my unaccustomed left hand, into a position to stop the thrust of her blade.

As quickly as it began, this duel was over as well.

She simply froze, her whole attack snapped off just that quickly. A quick glance showed the sword was embedded in her fist. I'd felt a faint click, so the point had likely penetrated through her hand to strike the blade handle she held.

We stood facing each other, less than a meter apart, her arms at her side. Her left arm, held close at her side was half hidden in the folds of her dress. My sword, held high at my side and in my left hand, was between us, its point was buried in her left hand. We both glanced about, no one seemed to be paying us any attention, at least from any position that they could see what had happened between us. We were not committed to any given action. Her cold, dark eyes, held mine as she calculated her chances, her next move. Looks may not kill, but hers came very close. Still, I held her gaze, shaking and panting for perhaps six long seconds. It was, after all, her decision. She always had it in her power to kill me. That was never the issue, nor was it now. It had always been – did she want to be sent to Felon's Riff to accomplish it?

'Madam! This is not proper! He needs my attention,' gasped Doc Hans in a shaken voice, as he pulled up beside us, medic bag in hand. And, 'Oh!' as he took in our situation. After several seconds he glanced at me and asked, 'Should I summon the Civil Guard?'

'No Doctor,' I said slowly, watching her closely. 'I believe we've reached an understanding. Neither of us wants to bother the authorities.' More a hope than a certainty.

She nodded ever so slightly. An understanding that defied definition. But an understanding.

'Right. Would you be so kind, Doc, to prepare to treat the lady's wounded hand when I withdraw the blade,' I panted, adding with my next breath, 'It must be quite painful.'

'You should be treated first, you've lost a fair amount of blood already,' he protested.

I shook my head, 'It won't take you long, and I don't want to keep the lady in pain any longer than necessary,' I said as I watched her blood seep around the blade and drip to the ground. I simply wanted her gone but I couldn't have her wandering about with a bloody hand. It was essential to keep this our secret. And to her, I added, 'While the Doc is getting ready, I must ask you to drop your blade.'

'Why?' she asked softly, unhurried, seemingly impervious to pain.

'Because I respect you too much, and trust you too little,' I said.

'Why?' she asked, more of herself than to me, and almost too soft for me to hear.

'Luck runs out, eventually. I'd like half a chance,' I said with a faint smile. It was a little act of kindness, perhaps. Little comfort in failure, but perhaps some, and a way out. My life depended on her having a way out of failure.

Still watching me, she opened her fist and the blade dropped, by the time it reached the ground, it had shape-shifted into a white hollow tube with the two ends slightly notched inwards to make it easier to hold crosswise with two fingers. Her red blood beaded up and rolled off the shiny surface.

'I'm ready, Captain,' said Doc Hans, having set down and opened his bag and now holding two small circles of the sealing material to temporarily patch the wounds.

'You or I?' I asked.

'I,' she said simply, and slipped her hand off of the sword's blade with a gush of blood. Doc slapped the patches on her palm and on back of her hand, to keep the bleeding to a minimum.

I stuck the bloody tip of the sword in the ground, and using it for support, bent and picked up her coiled blade with the blood from my wound running down my arm.

'I'll wait by my gear for you to finish treating her hand,' I said, adding, 'How's your arm? Does it need to be attended to?'

She was watching the doctor who held her hand as he reached for his medic kit in the bag. She shook her head No. The jacket was likely an armored one.

'Right,' I said, made a sketchy bow, turned my back on them to make my way back to where the balance of my wardrobe was piled on the grass. It felt like a thousand cold spiders were crawling up my back as I turned away. I wasn't exactly sure what we'd agreed to – a truce of some sort, but for how long, or even if she'd keep it, I couldn't say. I made it to my gear and turned to see the Doc working on her hand. I sat down – collapsed, really – into the cool damp grass and sank back to lay flat on my back. The rush of adrenaline which had kept most of the pain at bay, receded, and the wounds were pulsing with pain. I closed my eyes and thought of growing cha on Belbania, high on an old volcanic peak surrounded by a turquoise sea – mentally dialing down the date from twenty to ten, to maybe five years in the future, if I had one, until the Doc arrived at my side. I sat painfully up and he began to work.

He slapped on the quick seals and hooked up the medic kit, which quickly dampened the pain after which he began to probe my wounds with a hand held sensor.

'Just flesh wounds, Captain,' he said with an ironic smile. 'He missed everything critical. I'll have you patched up in a few minutes,' he assured me, adding after a pause while he worked, 'I must say it was gallant, if a bit foolish to let the lady off, as you did. I saw enough to make a case against her.'

'Thanks Doc, but it was neither gallant or foolish. It was essential if I – or we – wanted to live.'

'We?'

'The first time she shot to kill me, I was merely a witness, but that may've been a different type of situation. But she'd not hesitate to kill you if she thought it necessary. The thing is, Doc, she's a professional and likely an expert in the martial arts. You saw how indifferent she was to the pain of a sword through her hand. I'm certain she could've killed me with her bare hands in the blink of an eye, and you in a second later. But she couldn't have done it undetected, or escaped eventual capture. Killing me has never been her problem, killing me and avoiding Felon's Rift has been.

'That lover's act before the duel now makes sense. She was setting up this fall back plan on the off chance Max couldn't manage to kill me outright during the duel. She'd play the distraught lover, hold me close and put one more hole in me in just the right place.'

'I'd like to think I could recognize such a wound,' said Doc Hans. 'Both the shape of the wound and the angle of entry would likely be off...'

'But would you have risked making the accusation, on the basis of your field exam? I'm not questioning your bravery, but I'd imagine you'd not want to put your professional reputation on the line without making absolutely certain, which would likely take enough time for her to escape and disappear.'

'Perhaps, but she can be traced...'

'Right, either off world or deep into the criminal underground, but I'd bet this blade would have likely ended up in one of your pockets or bag,' I added, opened my palm where I still held the blade. 'It'd be a mind-probe interrogation for you...'

He shrugged, 'What if, Captain, what ifs... That's an interesting blade...' he added as he watched me attempt to find out how it worked.

It appeared to be made of some D-matter plastic or ceramics, smooth, featureless white and hard. After some playing about with it, I stumbled upon the method used to extend the blade. Squeezing the ends of the tube bent it at a crease around the middle of the tube and squeezing it further forced the tube into an inverted V shape which caused it to uncoil in two directions. The trailing edge on the outside was wider and unrolled to form a handle of sorts, as the forward facing strip unrolled into a narrow, 20 cm long inverted V blade. The crease that created the inverted V made the blade extend and stay stiff as long as it was squeezed – its razor-sharp edges and needle-like point making it a deadly stiletto for as long as you squeezed the tube.

'Ever seen anything like this?' I asked, as the blade rolled back up when I stopped squeezing it and handing the tube over to Doc.

'No, but I believe I know what it is. It's made of D-matter called phantom-glass,' he said after playing with it a bit. 'I know it from the crime fiction I read and the vids I watch. It's said to be undetectable under normal security scans, and any bio evidence, finger prints, blood, tissue and such, will not adhere to its surface. This is hardly a useful knife for anything except killing... Which makes it a damning piece of evidence, to be sure,' he added handing back to me. 'It's likely illegal in the Unity, still, you might want to keep it anyway,' he added with a significant look.

I shrugged and slipped it painfully into a pocket. 'Well it'll be some time, years probably, before I'm back in the Unity again. It may come in handy in the drifts. Anyway, as I was saying, having managed to stop her thrust and foil her plan without making a scene, it gave her a chance to consider her options. With the odds of killing me undetected and escaping a life in exile in Felon's Rift very low, she decided to bide her time and await another opportunity. It was up to her, but as long as I didn't make a scene, it was likely her best choice. I wasn't her prime target, anyway.

'However, if you'd called in the Civil Guard, that choice would have been made and since there'd be no reasonable explanation of the blade in her hand short of something like the truth and a mind-probe interrogation would certainly send her to Felon's Rift. So she'd have nothing to lose by killing me, and perhaps you as well. So you see, Doc, there was nothing gallant about my actions, only necessity.'

'But if she knows you're sailing in hours for the drifts, she'll certainly try again...'

I shrugged. 'I'll take precautions. Still, we know she's not absolutely desperate or I'd be dead...' I said as he finished cleaning the blood from my arm and chest and began to repack his bag.

'As you said, Captain, all luck runs out sooner or later. You've been pretty lucky; I'd not press it too hard. And with that sage advice, I'm done patching you up. You can get dressed and we can see if we can get you safely to your ship.'

'Thanks Doc.' I said, reaching for my gear.

Doc Hans helped me to my feet, when I made to rise. I was still a bit light headed, but I'd things to do...

'I've only cleaned and sealed your wounds. The wounds on your arm and rib cage, especially the deeper ones, should be treated with accelerated healing to avoid infection.'

'Thank you Doctor; I'll see to it as soon as I get aboard ship. I assume the patches will hold for a few hours.'

'Oh yes, the patches will hold, though you should avoid any more duels in the meanwhile. The wounds will get much more painful, however, without further treatment. They should be healed under treatment as soon as you can. They'll heal without a scar if you go for the full treatment, but you don't have to take it quite so far. Dueling scars are something to be proud of, Captain,' he said, half seriously.

'I'll keep that in mind, Doc, when I'm able to look after them.'

As we turned to go, we stopped to watch the medics emerge from the circle of onlookers and take Max off on a stretcher to a waiting carriage. After we returned the weapons to the Honor Judge, I consulted my memory of local customs. 'I believe, Doctor, I owe you an honorarium for acting as my second, as well as a fee for your professional services. I'm afraid I've no local currency, I came here terribly unprepared. But if I could have your account, I'll transfer the necessary credits when I reach my ship.'

'Totally unnecessary. You're a guest here, however unwillingly. It was my pleasure to offer my services. It has proven very interesting. I should dine out on the experience for years,' he assured me.

'Be that as it may, doing the right thing is a matter of honor for me, and a matter of luck as well. I wouldn't want to appear ungrateful to have survived.'

He smiled, 'We must not take luck for granted,' he admitted and wrote up a bill and gave his address.

As we walked slowly back towards the hotel, I asked, 'What's the fastest way out of here?'

'As I said, Captain. You shouldn't press your luck. You're looking for the safest way, not the fastest.'

I smiled. 'Aye. And the safest way would be?'

'This crater has three access points,' he replied. 'The only direct way to the outside world is a small yacht field on the crater wall, six kilometers up the road from the top of the town. But the road is steep and runs through deep forests. You've lost blood and the climb might be tiring even in low gravity. And, well, we must also consider that your would-be assassin has likely also gone that way too, if only to reach her boat.'

'Neb, you're right,' I muttered. I looked up into the dark forests surrounding the town. The yacht port was likely the way I'd arrived, unconscious, during the night so her rocket boat was likely still parked at the landing field. Was she now racing for her boat, or lingering along the way, waiting for me to follow? What could I do if I found her? My only ready answer was I'd likely die. Between the forests and low gravity, it would be easy for her to hide my body, delaying its discovery for some time.

'I'd insist on accompanying you, of course, if you choose to go that way...' Doc Hans continued. 'Murder is against the law in Prusza.'

I shook my head. 'No, Doctor. Can't have that. She's desperate and there's no reason why she couldn't wait in ambush and kill us both. Believe it or not, I am rather a cautious fellow and I'm ready to take your word. What are my alternatives?'

'There's a carriage road to Brandonburg through the crater wall, but the fastest way would be by train. May I suggest we turn at the next street and go down to the station to see when the next one is due. Brandonburg is less than an hour's ride and far more populated. Plus, it has a tram that will take you up to a much larger yacht club. I'd think you'd be much safer going that route.'

'It does sound like the most prudent plan, though I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you for a small loan to pay the train fare...'

02

The little iron steam engine chugged into the station half an hour later, spewing hissing steam and dragging three red and green carriages. I shook hands with Doctor Hans, thanking him again for all his help and loans while he wished me well and a safe passage. I gingerly climbed aboard the primitive carriage, found a seat, and waved goodbye as the train jerked, clanged, and drifted out of the station.

Once on our way, the carriage creaked and swung so wildly climbing along the steep side of the crater through the pines that I occasionally feared for our lives, though my fellow passengers seemed quite unperturbed. No one talked to me, though I caught several curious glances, but those may have been only because I was obviously not a native. I was, however, thankful my uniform trousers were black so that the drying blood on them did not show. Using the time, when not peering straight down steep ravines, I kicked myself for all the things I could've, but didn't think to do – like demand proof of marriage, demanding proof of infidelity, interrogate the night clerk to prove that I'd not arrived with Nadine. Still there seemed no point in going to the authorities now – I'd been unconscious at all the critical points – the space boat flight, my entry to Elborn crater, and the hotel. Plus, I had a ship to take to Zilantre on a tight schedule. I could not afford to wait on official procedures.

The train entered the long black tunnel between craters, only to emerge – just in time to avoid asphyxiating its passengers with its smoke – into the bright sunlight of Brandonburg Crater. The large, bustling town of Brandonburg lay at its center, built along the same ancient pattern as Elborn and surrounded by a picture perfect pastoral countryside of tiny villages set amongst neat fields and dark green woods. The tram to the yacht club proved to be a single electric powered carriage on tracks, complete with a driver, that slowly made its way along the town's streets and after escaping the town, between hedgerows. It took the better part of another hour to reach the yacht club, where I was able to raise the ship on my com link.

'Where have you been, Captain? We were getting worried,' said Illy as my call connected.

'Long story. What's our status?'

'I've moved the ship to the offing. & Kin's boat is alongside now delivering the drones, Vyn is overseeing stowing them in no. 4 hold. The trade goods you ordered will be up in the next several hours.

'Good. I'll be up directly.'

'You know Vyn and Ten have their kits packed awaiting your return. What should I tell them?'

'Nothing. I'll talk to them. See you soon,' (...I hope, this time.) I replied and broke the connection to reluctantly start sorting out my thoughts on what I needed to do when I arrived on board.

I signaled Kan Kantis, since he was back in operation again. I wasn't about to take any more chances.

### Chapter 36 Sanre-tay Day 28 – The Snares of Regulations

01

I swung on to the gangplank, trying not to wince – or yelp – too much.

Are you alright, Wil?' asked Illy, waiting for me with the hounds on the landing stage.

'I'm fine. I decided I needed to blow off some excess energy and now I'm a little sore,' I said. She knew me too well to believe that, but I looked, and felt, grim enough that she let it ride. For now. I considered stopping at the medic bay, but decided to deal with the Min, Vynnia and Tenry situation first, though only Neb knew what I was going say to them.

Illy followed as I gently launched myself up the well to the bridge deck. 'Tallith Min called several times. You were supposed to meet her,' said Illy watching me. 'I called her after I heard from you to let her know you'd soon be on board.'

'Thanks, Illy. I'll freshen up and call her,' I sighed. 'Please tell Vyn and Ten I'll see them shortly.'

'Right,' Illy said, still eyeing me with a growing number of questions.

I slipped into my quarters, gingerly stripping off my clothes and drifted into the shower. They may have embraced some ancient culture or another, but Prusza – or Doc Hans, anyway – hadn't embraced its ancient medicine. He'd sealed my 'flesh wounds' with pseudo-skin and though any sudden movement of either arm or shoulder sent shooting darts of sharp pain as the painkiller wore off, I could shower and clean up without a problem. I slipped the air mask over my face and turned on the jets of hot water that swirled about me in a soothing spray. I didn't linger, though I would've liked to. I turned off the water jets and turned on the warm air jets to suck the water mist out of the small shower compartment and dry me off.

Dressed again, I anchored myself on my chair before my desk and called Min.

'Ah, Captain,' she answered, voice only. 'I seem to have been stood up.'

'And I'm very sorry about that. Truth is, I got scared on my way to Bramble Vale. It struck me how reckless it was to call on you, after having been so careful up to this point, and especially since your safe haven is set to sail in hours. I gave it a miss, not even daring to call. Then, I'm embarrassed to admit, with some time on my hands and lot of nervous energy and frustration, I went on a little spree and lost track of time. I'm very sorry. It was not a responsible thing to do, and I apologize. I was very thoughtless.' That, I decided, was going to be my story, and I intended to stick with it. It was barely plausible.

'Yes, I can see your point about visiting. I wasn't thinking,' she said, carefully avoiding the spree, as I had hoped she would.

'Tallith, are you really determined to go on alone?' I asked, if only to give some credence to my tale.

'Yes.'

'Is there the slightest chance I can convince you to change your mind? I realize this is a dumb question after standing you up, but you must realize why I needed a spree.'

She sighed. 'No, Captain. There's not the slightest chance. I'm sorry. That's final.'

I sighed in turn – one last approach... 'Back at the Yacht Club I told you I was a partner in your quest. You've been running away from me ever since. You may not need me looking after you, but I don't need you looking after me either. Instead of running away from each other, let's work together to get to the heart of this mystery. So would you please trust me, Tallith, this one time, and sail with us to Zilantre or LaTrina, for my sake?'

She didn't reply for a moment and said, 'For your sake, Captain, I won't.'

'Right,' I sighed again. 'Will you at least allow Vyn and Ten to accompany you for a while – a year or two until you've seen a bit more of the Nebula? With this Zilantre charter, I can readily spare them.'

'I'm going alone. I've already made my arrangements and they – or anyone else – will not be able to follow me or catch up, so they'd best stay with you.'

As expected. However, to keep my options open until I decided what to do I said, 'I still hope to get them to stay, but they'll insist on seeing you one last time if only to say goodbye. Will you see them for a few drinks before we sail? I'll give them leave, as soon as we finish talking. We're waiting on a container, so you've time to say your goodbyes without delaying sailing. You owe them that much.'

'Oh, I suppose. I do owe them for many things.'

'Good. What are your final instructions?'

'I just wanted to impress upon you, that I don't expect you to run exceptional risks to earn credits for me. All I need is for the ship to pay its own way. As soon as you can swing it, get it into the planetary trade. I'll see what I can find in my travels and I'll keep you informed. If things work out as planned with this Isleta delivery, we'll be more than half way to being accepted for general transport, so that drift work might be kept to a minimum.'

'I'm thinking that, too. I'm sure we'll give you a good return without having to take extraordinary risks. You know me, given that option, I'll take it. And you needn't worry about the Lost Star, I'll keep it in one piece until you're ready to take it over.'

'Good. Well, Captain, I guess there's not much more to say, except fair orbits and good luck...'

'Good luck to you too, Tallith. Promise me you'll not do anything I wouldn't do,' I said with a smile she couldn't see. Everything she was doing I wouldn't do.

'Of course,' she replied, probably with a smile too. 'You needn't worry. I'll never run any risks at all.'

I laughed. 'Excellent. I'll hold you to that standard, so when we next meet I'll expect only tourist vids of all the wonderful places and planets you've discovered.'

'I'm looking forward to seeing many strange and wonderful places,' she replied, and tiring of lying, added. 'Well Captain, I mustn't keep you. Good luck – fair orbits!'

'Good luck to you too, Min. Fair orbits,' I replied and the connection was broken.

02

I took a few minutes to gather all my ruthlessness, and called Vynnia and Tenry in. They must have been waiting on the bridge, since they arrived even as I closed the connection.

'Slide the door closed and have a seat,' I said as they knocked and entered.

'You never met with Talley?' asked Vynnia warily, getting down to business.

'No. But I've just finished talking to her,' I said. 'And I'm afraid I couldn't convince her to change her mind. Not about sailing with us or about taking you along. I tried, but she assured me she's made plans to see that she's not followed.'

They looked grim.

'As I see it, unless you sail aboard the same ship as Min when she leaves Sanre-tay, you're unlikely to ever catch up with her. And really, we can't even assume she's going out of system at this point.'

There was nothing they could say to meet those objections. I continued.

'Can your Patrol connections keep track of her?' I asked on the slim chance their reserves status would allow them to pull strings, maybe even hitch rides, to keep Min in sight.

Tenry shook his head. 'Vyn might be able to call in some favors, what with her folks being admirals, but unless the Patrol is interested in a person, tracking passengers is not what the Patrol does. Any ideas Vyn?'

'No. I wish I knew why she's being so stubborn.' She gave me a hard look, before continuing, 'It could be an adventure for all of us. It's not like we're asking to hang with her for life... We simply have to convince her to let us tag along for a while...'

I shook my head. 'She was very definite. She's traveling alone.'

'We're resourceful. We'll take our chance, Captain. It's our duty,' said Vynnia watching me closely. 'We're packed and are ready to go down. I hate to leave you like this, but you know our agreement. You have that list of possible replacements I sent around the other day?'

'Yes, I do,' I said slowly, but thinking furiously. Nadine bragged she could monitor the comings and goings of our boats, but I don't think even a small spy bot could've been attached to the ship's hull without it being registered by sensors, though I suppose no action may have resulted since it would likely have been considered simply floating trash... Still it was probably dropped off a dozen kilometers or more away, so with all the moving the ship has done over the last several days, I doubted they'd been able to keep it current, especially since we'd just moved again while our little drama was being played out. On the other hand, if either of Vynnia or Tenry had been tagged like me, sending them down would lead Nadine right to Min. But not sending them down... I didn't think Nadine was as sure of her knowledge of Min's location as she'd have me believe, but I didn't know how long Min planned to stay on Lontria either. Would Nadine have time to find her or not? There simply wasn't a clear course through this drift.

I drummed my fingers on my desk thinking. The bloody Neb of it was I could do as I pleased, I could let them go or force them to sail with me. But by the same token, it made it my responsibility, no matter what I decided to do, or not to do. I needed to be ruthless, but I needed to be ruthless no matter what course I chose, so ruthlessness was no help at all. Be careful what you wish for. Me, I'm never going to wish for anything ever again...

'If you'd just drop us downside, we'll be off,' said Vynnia, as I continued to weigh my options in silence.

'Hold your jets a moment. We're all agreed that she needs more experience before she goes off on her own?'

'Yes,' Tenry said, watching me closely. He knew something was up.

'And I believe we understand that she may be in some danger from the people who may have killed her parents and almost killed her.'

'Perhaps, but we don't know that for certain,' replied Tenry, with a quick glance at Vynnia that I took to be a warning he'd not fully shared our concern with Vynnia.

'Right,' I said, to prevent Vynnia from asking any questions. 'I believe the threat is real, so what I'd like you two to do is go down to meet Tallith for a few goodbye drinks. She's expecting you. Make sure she has more than a few drinks. Mystwine should do the trick. You'll need to get her dead drunk by the time you bring her up. I'll send along several sedative jabs to make sure she's out of it until we're well on our way. I realize this is a somewhat unusual request, but I'm sure with a hundred years of Patrol service behind you, it's a mission you can bring off without a hitch.'

Tenry settled back with the faintest of smiles.

Vynnia bristled. 'Is that your idea of a joke, Captain?'

'Why, you're asking us to shanghai her!' Tenry exclaimed with a wink.

'If you have a better plan to get her safely aboard, I'm open to suggestions.'

'There are limits, Captain. Yes, I'd want Talley to sail aboard the ship, but Ten and I are not about to shanghai her. She's not a child and we must respect her choices however much we doubt her wisdom. And by Neb, she's your owner! She trusts you, Captain. You can't treat her like that just because she's young and...'

'Foolish?' I suggested.

'She hired you,' snapped Vyn.

I smiled. 'Foolish. Or rather, impulsive. Nevertheless, all I'm proposing to do will just clip her impulsive wings for a passage or two. In Zilantre, or better yet, in LaTrina, she can go her way, alone, if she still cares to. But by then she'll be far better prepared, and, I believe, far safer than she is today.'

'Why didn't you meet her, get her drunk and bring her aboard yourself?' asked Vyn adding, 'You didn't even have the guts to see her.'

'I think that explains why,' I said mildly. 'Which makes you two far better suited...'

I could see Vyn fight to contain her protective temper. 'I realize you're trying to protect her, but this is just too demeaning. She deserves your respect,' she said carefully.

'Can I change your mind, Vyn?'

'No. Ten and I will find some other way.'

I turned to Ten. 'Ten? You've been very quiet.'

'You know Skipper; I've been on this side of the desk far too many times in my career – such as it was – not to realize you're just being diplomatic. What I or Vyn want is neither dust nor gas. It's what you want,' he said with a slow smile. 'What do you want?'

I thought again, before I answered. I took a breath, which hurt. That finally decided it for me. I thought of Nadine, blade in hand and ready to slip it into me though we were surrounded by people. Everything that had happened validated Min's concern – and mine.

'I want Min safe,' I said. 'Ten knows I'm not asking. I'm giving you your orders. Call and arrange to meet her for drinks and goodbyes. Get her drunk. I'll foot the bar bill. As I said, you'll need to get her too drunk to be able to sling orders about when you bring her aboard. We'll stop at the medic bay to get some sedative jabs that'll accomplish what the Mystwine doesn't. It's critical that she's unconscious when you bring her on board, and will stay that way until we're well underway. Any questions?' I hoped Vynnia was enjoying this more authoritarian version of Captain Litang.

'We're not under your orders anymore. We resigned,' said Vynnia. 'Let's lift, Ten.'

Tenry didn't move, he just watched us in turn. He knew what was up.

I sighed and tapped my desk, calling up my crew list. I pulled up Vynnia & Tenry's Guild contracts. I noted that there was now a notation on them, Resignation Pending. That was new, but neither dust nor gas.

'Ah, I see you've gotten around to officially requesting a termination of your contracts. As I'm sure you know, any resignation within 48 hours of sailing requires the approval of the captain. Your resignation is only, ah, some six hours old, and since we'll be sailing inside of ten I'd have to sign off on it, and well, I'm not going to do that. Sorry,' I said, and with that I touched the notation on her contract calling up the short resignation request and denied it. I did the same for Ten's and looked up into Vynnia's furious face. '... so you're still under my orders, and you have 'em,' I added.

'Why, you...' stuttered Vynnia, searching for a way to say what she thought without being crude...

'I believe the words you're searching for are Yes, sir.'

'I took you to be a gentleman. A man of his word. A man of honor...'

'You took me to be lazy, careless, and spineless, Vyn. Or you'd have taken the simple measures needed to avoid this.'

'It wasn't that. I thought you were working with us. You gave us your word, and I accepted it. To think I took you to be a man of your word. To treat us this way is bad enough, but to treat your owner in such an underhanded, disrespectful way, not to say illegal...'

I pulled up the pilot contract Min had signed back on Calissant and pushed the image over to their side of the desk.

'As you can see, Min also overlooked resigning her pilot's berth. I overlooked the breach of contract when she skipped on Calissant but I'm not prepared to do so twice. I've the legal right to bring her aboard, drunk or sober, and by duress if necessary. And I've the legal right to order you to do it, as you know full well, Captain enCarn. And I should also point out that I gave you my word that I'd keep the three of you together. My orders will keep the three of you together, as long as you do your duty, which, I might add, is more than you can promise me.'

'At what price?' she snapped. 'Anyway, Talley can simply order you to void that contract. And she will, if I've anything to do with it.'

I shrugged and winced with the twinge of pain. 'True, if she can reach me. But I'd not advise it. She wants you aboard the Lost Star so she's not likely to order me to void your contracts. Tip her off and she goes her way alone and we go ours.'

'We'll go our own way whether or not you release us. We don't need the Neb-blasted Guild...' said Vynnia.

'I haven't threatened you with Guild sanctions. But you're ex-Patrol and you know regulations are regulations, orders are orders, and you know honor is honor as well. Like it or not, you'll follow my orders.'

Tenry spoke up, 'Wil's right, Vyn. This plan should work, and it'll be Wil here who gets shoved out the airlock when Talley comes around and realizes what happened. Plus, method aside, it accomplishes what we all want.'

'Then he can get her drunk himself. We'll come down to pick them up.'

'If she should get wind of what I was up to; she could order me to stop. I don't know if jabbing an owner with a sedative constitutes mutiny or not, but I prefer not to take the chance... You can ignore her orders as it's customary for the owner to deal with the captain in operational matters. You're just following my orders and she can take it up with me, when she comes around.' I'd it all worked out for weeks. It seemed pretty slick at the time. Now, it just seemed ugly, but necessary.

Vynnia glared at me and Tenry. 'I'm not going to do it.'

'Right. I believe she's in immediate danger, I wouldn't be doing this for any other reason. However, you have a far stronger claim to protecting her than I. So if you're willing to assume complete responsibility for her security, I'll release all of you from your contracts and just go about running this ship. You keep her safe – whether she wants you to or not. And good luck with that. Your choice, Vyn. What do you say? What should I do?'

She glared at me, furious. I called up their contracts again and waited.

'We'll bring her back,' said Tenry, quietly. 'We don't have a choice. It's for the best, Vyn.'

They shared a look, and she gave a slight nod.

'Right,' I said, 'You've your orders. You know what you have to do. Min is waiting and it must be getting late in Bramble Vale...'

Tenry looked to me. 'I've got'a hand it to you, Skipper, during my Patrol career I've been dragged into one Neb-blasted quantum-fuck-up or another by some desk-bound CO more times than I care to count, and I must say yours has been a classic performance. If Talley decides not to shove you out an airlock, you should consider a career in the Patrol. You've got the deviousness to go far,' adding Tenry with a sly smile. 'I'm sure Vyn here is just mad she didn't think of it on her own.' Which earned us both a glare.

'Thanks, Ten. I think.'

'Right. Now let's get this mission lifted and on its way,' said Tenry, rising.

'Good. See to the gig, First. I'll issue some sedative jabs to Ten,' I said carefully getting to my feet. It hurt just breaking magnetic contact with the chair.

Vyn turned and stalked out – a hard thing to do in free fall.

'She'll get over it,' Ten said in a low voice.

'I'm sure she will,' I said, adding as I followed him out. 'Can you pull this off?'

'It should be easy enough, I can't imagine she'd suspect that we'd come to shanghai her.'

We swung up one deck and made our way to the medic bay.

'Here's the jabs. You might want to use one even if the Mystwine works, just to make sure. I don't want to have to choose to obey her orders or not.'

'Right.'

'And, Ten, I wasn't bluffing about the danger. I don't know if your reserve status allows you to take weapons downside, but keep a look out for a slim, black haired woman. I don't expect you'll see her, but she's dangerous and desperate, and Min's her target.'

He was watching me closely now.

'We need to bring her off. It's the old Four Shipmates thing, and I've said too much already.'

He nodded. 'Aye, we'll bring her aboard.'

03

I stayed in the medic bay after issuing Tenry the jabs, and programmed the robotic treatment table's healing fields to greatly accelerate the natural process on my cuts. It took twenty minutes under the accelerated healing probes to reduce the wounds to faint scars, which I decided to keep, if only as a reminder to be more careful in the future. I also had the system find and remove the sliver-sized tracer from the nape of my neck, and make certain there was nothing else in me that didn't belong.

Illy turned and watched me closely as I entered the bridge after the treatment – feeling a whole lot more alive. 'Your orders?' she asked.

'Let me know when the gig or the quarter box arrives. We'll sail directly after both are aboard.'

'I thought Ten and Vyn were leaving us. Are they bringing up their replacements?'

'Just a pilot. The one we already have on the books.'

'Who would that be?'

'You're the purser, Illy.'

'Talley? You sent Ten and Vyn down to collect Talley? How in the Neb did you manage that? And more important, how in the Neb do you think you can get away with it?' she asked, watching me with her shrewd eyes.

'I can get away with it because I'm the captain of this packet. All three of them neglected to formally resign before the Guild limit. I'm simply choosing to enforce their Guild contracts.'

'Have you gone crazy, Wil? You can't force the ship's owner to honor a Guild contract. For one thing, she can just cancel it. And for another, she can find a new captain.'

'A contract is a contract, Illy. A pilot or a ship owner needs to pay attention to all the little details... And as for the rest, she'd have to be awake and reasonably sober to do all that...'

'Wil, you're not...'

'Nope. Vyn and Ten are. And they've orders to make sure she's neither when they bring her on board...'

'She'll sober up...'

'Not before we'll be well on our way.'

She sighed. 'Why?'

'Because the Lost Star's past has caught up with it. The Mins were certainly murdered, and Tallith, for some reason, appears to be a target as well. She knows this, but doesn't want to bring that danger to the ship. I, on the other hand, think there's no safer place in the Neb than aboard us. Failing to talk sense into her, I've decided to act.'

'And you think this is all going to lift?'

'If I had a better choice, I'd have taken it. The danger to Min is real and immediate, and getting her away from Lontria now seems the best option,' I replied with a shrug. 'We'll just have to see how it plays out. Speaking of which, we'll need to switch watches since Vyn is on ship's business. Ask Molaye if she'll take the first watch under power. I'll take the second since I doubt Min will be in any condition to stand it. Vyn should be able to take Molaye's third, and I'll take the fifth, if necessary. Would you see to that, Illy?'

She stared at me, but realizing the die had been cast, nodded, 'Right, Captain.'

I returned to my office and had just finished sending Doctor Han's credits, with thanks, when the lighter arrived with our quarter box. I suited up and oversaw its loading into no.4 hold via the extended airlock. Myes and I maneuvered it in the hold with a system of rarely used winches and secured it on top of the other quarter box. As we were finishing up, I received a brief call from Illy telling me my shore crew was on their way back and I returned to my office just in time to see Vyn and Ten, arm in arm with an unconscious Min in the middle, drifting up from the landing stage. Tenry gave me a cheery wave, as they swung into the companionway.

'As soon as the gig and gangway are secured, we'll proceed under power,' I said to Molaye as I looked into the bridge, 'Get us set on our course Lucky.'

Ten turned up shortly afterward and draped himself on the arm of his weapons station's chair on the twilight bridge – the view-panels looking forward, anticipating our departure with Azminn being directly astern as we prepared to sink it slowly into a mere star.

'Captain, here to report.'

'How'd it go?'

'Ah, the age of innocence, Skipper. The Mystwine worked like a charm. Still, I gave her a dose just to make sure she'd get all the rest she needed,' he said with a wink. 'Vyn's tucking her into her hammock for acceleration. Wouldn't want her slipping out,' he added with a wide grin. Yes, clearly he'd not been pouring his Mystwine into the potted plants...

'Excellent. Get some rest, Ten. You've been on ship's duty so you're excused from your first watch.'

'Aye, aye, Skipper,' he said with a mock Patrol salute adding, 'You were a good Skipper, I'll miss ya.' And he slouched off, heading for his quarters and hammock.

His last remark wasn't missed by anyone on the bridge, but caused no alarm, only half-hidden smiles. It was clear they were up to speed on my gambit, Ten probably spilled it when he called up to the ship to report that they were on their way up. Ten's last comment may have been meant as a joke, but I wasn't certain. I'd a feeling there was a general misconception about my status with Min, which, in truth, even I may have shared. Time will tell.

Illy and Vynnia arrived on the bridge. Vynnia said, 'Sorry I'm late for my watch, Captain.'

'Nothing to apologize for, First. You've been on ship's business. Molaye has agreed to cover this watch, I'll take the second so you'll be fresh for the third. You pilots can sort the watches out later, if you wish.'

'Yes, of course,' she replied adding, 'Thank you.' And gave Molaye a quick smile to reassure her all was fine. The first watch is often the first mate's, it's not an iron-clad rule and can be switched as necessary.

'Well people, shall we get this packet on its way?' I asked, looking around to the assembled watch and assorted hanger-ons.

'Aye, this weary old man is anxious to be on his way home, never more to wander,' announced Rafe gravely. He was still acting sorry for himself at being beaten to a cargo by a companion.

They nodded and took their places, Molaye at the navigation controls, Riv had the engineering console while Rafe occupied the communications chair. In addition, Illy, Dyn and Myes who'd been standing the previous watch had hung around, plus Vynnia and me. Vynnia looked to be uncertain if she should remain, having no formal excuse to stay. She glanced at me.

'Stay and see this voyage well launched, Vyn.'

Molaye rung the first warning, a half minute long ringing bell, designed, I think, not only to warn that free fall was about to end, but to instill a sense of excitement and anticipation. I took my place between the engineer's and the pilot's chairs while the casual observers found places to brace themselves for the return of inertia's pseudo gravity. The twenty second silence that followed hung with suspense. Molaye rang the last warning bell, three short rings, and turned to me, 'Captain?'

'Do you have a course, Molaye?'

'Yes, Captain.'

'Riv, are your engines at ready?'

'Aye, Skipper.'

'Are we clear, Rafe?'

'Clear to Zilantre, Willy.'

'She's yours, pilot. Bring her up easy to mark 5 thrust.'

'Aye, aye, Captain, easy up to mark 5 thrust,' she said and slowly pulled the tentatively balanced cluster of rocket control levers back towards her, filling the ship with the low but pervasive roar of the engines as they unleashed the torrents that drove the Lost Star through the dust and glowing gas of the Nine Stars.

My legs easily absorbed the gentle shock of the acceleration, for unlike the Ghost, the Lost Star did not jump but took her long, leisurely time getting up to speed.

'Rockets away, Lucky!' I said, under my breath.

Lucky Molaye grinned as the rockets roared beneath our feet. 'To the stars, lads!' she replied softly.

### Part Four – The Passage to Zilantre

### Chapter 37 The Long Passage (Prelude)

01

Someone stepped in front of me, hiding the forward display, breaking my concentration.

'Captain?'

I looked up. 'Yes, First?'

'My watch, sir.'

I glanced at the chronometer on the console before me. 'Ah, so it is. That went quickly.' And so it had.

I was connected to the ship's systems and its rocket engines via my com link and focused on bringing the ship up to speed while keeping it precisely on course. This involved manipulating the output of the eight balancing rockets circling the single main rocket engine driving the Lost Star.

The thrust of the main engine is aligned with the central axis of the ship. The weight distribution of the ship, even before fuel and cargo are considered, is not quite symmetrical, and when loaded with fuel and cargo, the functional axis of the ship never quite aligns with the main rocket's thrust, so that the smaller balancing rockets are used to compensate for the asymmetry of the ship. In addition, each engines' output changes slightly as they settle into their burn and as the engineers tinker with their precious engines, pumps, and injectors, so that a pilot has to subtly but constantly explore and adjust the output of each balancing rocket to keep the ship's thrust vector aligned with its predetermined course – keeping all the dots perfectly round and aligned on the forward screen being the visual clue. Minute flaws in the ship's course over time and great distances can make for a wide miss at the end of a voyage.

With this constant tinkering, my watch at the helm had flown by, quite agreeably so. Riding the nine rockets is why pilots become pilots.

'She's all yours, Vyn,' I said standing up and only then feeling the four hours of intense concentration in my back and shoulders. Still, with three pilots I wasn't likely to have many turns at the helm. Assuming I remained captain, that is.

I stretched the kinks out and went through the change of watch ritual to bring her up to speed on the status of the engines. Then, after a quick survey of the ship's status, I stepped around to my quarters for a quick refresh before going up for a meal.

I hit the light.

'Kill that Neb-blasted light,' she growled huskily.

I killed the light. 'Ah, Min, you're up. Way too early, I suspect.'

She was a long dark shape sprawled in one of the office chairs faintly seen in the wan light of the nebula in the dimly glowing view-panel on the bulkhead.

'If you've any hope of avoiding wandering out of an airlock, Captain, you're going to need a better explanation of why I'm here than I believe even you can invent. You take your orders from me, mister, at least that was my understanding, and there was nothing in them to cover this.'

'Ah, yes, that's my understanding as well,' I said, warily settling into the chair opposite hers.

'Ha! So you say! Ah...' she started to exclaim, before grabbing her head.

'Why don't I just try to explain,' I said carefully and softly. 'You can just listen. I assure you I've my story well-rehearsed...'

She waved a hand.

'Right. I was so spooked by my inexplicable fear of seeing you, that after we talked, I went up the medic-bay and checked again for tracers again. I discovered that I did have a tracer in me after all. Back of my neck. The med-scan found it. It must be inert when out of range, so the radio scan I ran after the incident didn't pick it up. Stupid of me not to make a more extensive search. Now, having discovered my trace, I feared I wasn't the only one tagged. Could Vyn or Ten be tagged as well? They were determined to travel with you and I could hardly ask them to undergo a med-scan without telling them why – our understanding tied my hands, you see...'

'Ha!' she muttered.

'I didn't want to get in trouble with you,' I said with a smile. She may've glared at me, but it was too dark to be sure.

'Anyway, the trace tag made me think that you were likely in immediate danger. Vyn and Ten might protect you, or merely lead the assassin to you. With just hours to sailing, I felt that I needed to take immediate action,' I paused.

'I want to make it clear that in this, I acted solely as your friend, not as your employee.'

'Ha!' she croaked again. 'You've no such privilege.'

'Well, then, let's say I acted on impulse, just as you had when you took off for Sanre-tay without consulting me.'

'I can do as I please. I'm the owner.'

'True, but a careless one. You made this all possible. Vyn and Ten neglected to give more than an informal notice of their intent before the 48-hour deadline. And you, having skipped once before on Calissant, were either careless or figured that as owner you were above Guild contracts, and failed to cancel yours as well. In any event, I'd the legal authority to order Vyn and Ten to collect you, since all of you were under Guild contract. They strongly objected, but had no real choice, as I was within my rights to your services as a pilot. I could and did to order them to enforce that right.'

I paused. 'I wonder if you're really that careless. Not canceling your contract was a minor concern, and being the ship's owner I could see how you'd think it wasn't important. Still, you didn't remove your kit from your quarters... '

She said nothing. Didn't expect her to. 'Tell me some day... Anyway, I'd a compelling reason and a right to bring you on board and chose to exercise it. The responsibility rests entirely with me. Questions?'

She just sat still and silent, head in hands.

'Really Min, it advances your plans. Saves credits on a tourist passage while giving you a chance to experience the tramping life. I'll not be able to pull the trick again so you're free to go your own way once we reach Zilantre. I doubt our enemies will get to Zilantre before we do, so we're already one step ahead...' I paused to decide if I needed to say more. My encounter with the assassins had two edges, tell her and it'd only play into her fears. Keep it my secret, and it weakened my case for shanghaiing her. I decided that keeping Min on board was more important than trying to justify my actions and there was nothing she could do about that now.

'So all, in all, I feel I did what I needed to do, as friend, partner and employee.'

'And that's your defense?' she asked after a while.

'Yes.'

We sat in the dark and silence for a while before she gathered herself to stand. I followed suit. We were under power, so there was a slowly growing pseudo gravity aboard ship now.

'You're right about one thing – I came to see you too soon. Can't think. And the sound of your voice hurts my head,' she said softly.

'I covered your watch this time, Min. Figured I owed you that much... So go back to sleep. You've got eight hours to recover. Then you can pilot your ship for the first time.'

She walked to the doorway, paused, turned and said, 'Thanks, Captain.'

Even in the dark, it wasn't hard to tell she was being sarcastic.

As she slid the door-panel closed behind her, I let out my breath. That went well. It'd been a very long day and the bar was rather low.

02

Near the end of the fifth watch, after a brief nap, I glanced in on the bridge to see that the new watch was on hand, and turned to the main access well and climbed the stairs which circled it – the pseudo gravity made using the access well unhealthy – to start the nightly tour of my kingdom. I walked the companionways of the crew and passenger deck, stopping to chat with Lili and Illy on the awning deck, before climbing the last stairs to stand in the dim hollow silence of no. 4 hold, unfamiliar now with the addition of two drones and two quarter container boxes. I made certain everything was still secure, and walked back down to the various offices and workshops of the deck below the bridge and down into the noise and bustle of the engine room. It's a perfectly useless procedure. The ship's sensors monitor everything. But while I'm no more superstitious than any other spaceer, I'm not any less, and this nightly tour had become a ritual that, I felt, kept – quite irrationally – the Neb at bay. A ship's a tiny sliver of a world in an endless sea of lifeless vacuum and deadly radiation, so keeping it safe and secure, in any (however irrational) way is a spaceer's priority, and even more so for a space ship's master.

I climbed up from the engine room and entered my quarters by my office.

Once more she was waiting for me. She was resting on the edge of my desk in her black and white uniform and long mech-legs. She must have been waiting since she had come off her tick at the helm. While waiting for me, she had taken the time to get angry again. She looked fit and icy.

'Why, hello, Min. You're looking much better,' I said, just to put a bold face over my petty annoyance. It's her ship, I suppose, but turning up in my office to scowl at me every time I stepped out would get old.

'I'm feeling much better. I can deal with you now,' she replied fixing me with a cold glare.

'Of course. Best to put this behind us,' I said with what I hoped came off as studied carelessness, adding, 'Now that we're shipmates,' just to vent my annoyance. It'd been a decade or more since I was last in this position. Actually, in exactly the same physical position, though in those days it was Captain Miccall glaring at me from his desk. There wasn't much to choose from between the two angry glares.

'I hired you, Litang, in part, because I wanted a captain that wasn't going to try to boss me about and treat me like a child. So you can imagine my dismay on discovering that you not only feel free to disregard my direct orders, but don't mind making a fool of me aboard my own ship as well. I've heard your excuses. I appreciate your concern, but I resent the implication that I can't handle my own affairs.'

'I'm sorry. That wasn't the case. I had information you didn't have and...'

'Which you could have simply passed on to me.'

'Yes, I suppose...'

'But instead you just decided on your own to do what you felt like doing.'

I closed my eyes for a moment and answered, 'Yes.' Keeping this type of conversation short is always the best option. I'd found that out fifteen years ago.

'Am I that incapable of handling my own affairs?'

'No, not at all. I hold you in the highest regard. I wouldn't be your captain if I didn't. But in this case I had information that you didn't and given the complexities of the situation, undeniable evidence that our enemies were actively hunting us, a sailing deadline, with Vyn, Ten and your fate all knotted together, I chose to act decisively. I figured we could sort things out when everyone was out of immediate danger.'

She considered that for a moment.

'I believe, Litang, that you have formed an erroneous impression of me. It has led you to gravely misinterpret our relationship. I employed you to run my ship, not my life. You seem unable to separate the two. You've made me a laughing stock aboard my own ship. I can't forgive you for that.'

'A laughing stock? Where did you get that idea from?'

'A fool, then. I can see the amusement in their glances.'

'Listen Min. They're aware you're in danger from enemies out of the past, and that I take that threat seriously. That alone explains why I acted. What amuses them is the idea that I, for some reason, think I can shanghai my owner with impunity, especially knowing that I'm such a cautious fellow,' I replied with a wary smile.

'And they're wrong.'

'Yes.' Apparently very wrong.

'It's another reason why this isn't going to work.'

'I don't see why it'd make any difference at all. Now that we're all on board, that idea can be put to rest.'

'Oh, it will be. However, in the end, it's not what they think. Or what you think, but what I think that matters. And I think I made a mistake.'

I just watched and waited.

'I know enough about a ship's society to realize that now is not the time to correct that mistake. But you understand, Captain, that the time to correct my mistake will be upon reaching Zilantre. Need I spell out what I mean?'

'No. I get the drift. Nothing more need be said.'

'It'll be better for your future if you discover you can't work for me, rather than the other way around,' she added grimly.

'Yes, of course.'

'Until then we'll operate as we'd originally planned. I'll do my best to make this easy for both of us. It's a long voyage and there's no sense in making it an unpleasant one. I'll take the opportunity to learn the tramp business as a pilot, as we had originally talked about, while you carry on as captain. I trust you'll keep this conversation strictly to yourself. I'm sure we both want to serve on a happy ship.'

'Yes, of course. I realized this was one of the possible consequences of my actions, so it's not unexpected. I can hardly complain. My loyalty is to you and my shipmates, as it always has been,' I replied with a somewhat forced smile.

Ten years ago I would have turned and stumbled out of the office. This time the office was still mine, for the moment, so Min heaved herself to her feet and with a faint nod, stalked out.

I let out a breath. It could've been worse. The bar was very low.

### Chapter 38 Day 2 Setting the Pace

The bridge was silent and twilit. With Azminn astern, the curving bank of view-panels showed only the subtle glow of the nebula's gases entwined in the twisting lampblack flows of the dust and rocky drifts. And because we were inbound, only three stars of the eight nebula stars shown through the haze – the other five, and the galaxy beyond were either out of view or hidden behind the veils of gas and dust.

Molaye was at the helm and Illy as the lookout/communications station. Behind them, the bank of specialized control consoles – cargo, environment, communications, navigation, sensors, weapons, and more – blinked and glowed softly, unattended. Every control on the bridge is duplicated somewhere else on board and all are monitored from the active control console with the detailed ones behind them. Redundancy is a basic safety precaution.

The engineering station was vacant. The engineers were standing their watch in the engine room rather than on the bridge this voyage. For planetary runs with the engines operating for only two or three days at a time, they were comfortable monitoring them from the bridge. But with upwards of twenty days of constant running ahead, the engineers felt the need for more than just console lights and screens to look after their engines, so they moved their watch two decks down to the engine room control center to better see, feel, smell, hear, and be one with their engines, reactors, generators, and pumps at work.

Illy glanced up as I entered.

'Ready for a break?' I asked quietly. I'd no scheduled duties, so either I or the first mate looked in during each watch to give the watch a short break if needed.

She nodded.

'Then I have the lookout,' I took formal possession of the lookout.

Molaye glanced over and smiled as I thankfully perched myself on the tall, vacated chair. I'd never felt heavier aboard the ship because we'd never accelerated this long and hard in my years aboard her. My whole body ached. One-gee plus gravity, when you're not used to it, can do that. She'd been concentrating on her minute adjustments to the rocket engine balance using the array of nine control levers on the console before her, searching for just the right balance – the groove – to get the best, most efficient, performance out of the ship.

Up till now, I'd been monitoring the ship's status via my com link, just a light overview that would alert me to anything amiss, but otherwise didn't demand much attention. Essentially just a feeling that assured me everything was right. Now I synced my com link to the lookout console so all the radar, radio and ship's system's data became accessible in great detail directly through the com link and through the readouts on the console before me. The lookout position is manned at one time or another by everyone aboard ship. The system techs are the most knowledgeable people about the radar and sensor systems, but everyone can keep a general watch, monitoring the long range radar for hazards down course while keeping an eye on all the non-engine mechanical and data systems aboard ship. We were in a well charted and well-traveled space lane and had just began to build velocity, so it was not an intense job at the moment. Once we reached interstellar velocity, we'd once more be encased in a shell of ionized gas and dust, blinding conventional radar and making peering ahead a lot more demanding. And when we reached Anjur and turned for Zilantre, we'd be off current charts and coasting through the inner drifts between the Helgot and Myzar drifts where uncharted meteor streams and drifts might be expected, so the lookout post would become a much more demanding duty then, even with drones ahead to extend our sensor reach.

'Still searching for the groove. I see we're up to mark 5.7 now.'

She grinned. 'Aye, and I'm thinking it could go a bit higher, with your permission, of course, Captain,' she added, more of a challenge than anything else.

'You think so, pilot?' I replied, just to play the game.

'After fifty years at running at mark 3, the old girl needs to find her new groove. Those Starliner Expres engines are good, solid engines, Captain, and they seem to want to run now that they don't have to just jog along. I'm beginning to think that their groove will be more around mark 6.7, maybe even 7 or a hair above.' This, with a sidelong glance.

I believe I'd been warned about this. However, with one of three pilots also the ship's owner, and the fact that I actually didn't mind seeing what the ship could do, I wasn't about to make a big issue about where Molaye, Min or Vynnia "found" the groove. Still...

'Mark 7 you say...'

'Or a little more...'

'Or a little more...' I parroted, giving her a stern look.

'But only if you're able to handle it, of course. It'd be a lot more gee-points than, ah, we're used to,' she added, brightly with just a hint of challenge in what was left unsaid.

I wasn't so ancient that I couldn't tolerate mark 7 – slightly more than one Unity Standard grav. Not yet, anyway. 'I can stand it. But here's your limit, Lucky. I've no intention of putting up with the engineers whining about how we're abusing their precious engines, groove or no groove. You, and your fellow pilots can take this packet up to whatever mark you care too, just so long as the engineers agree to it. But not one tick higher. I don't want to hear one peep or bleat from Riv or Lilm, and so you better make certain they're on board with every tick you take it up.'

'Oh, they're on board, Captain,' Molaye assured me cheerfully. 'We're getting their blood pumping. They're remembering they're engineers, not caretakers. Besides, Starliners are built for running at mark 7. They've been held in check for too long.'

'So you say, from your long experience as a pilot.'

She wasn't intimidated. 'From my feel for the engines, Captain.'

I wasn't going to win this on that basis, so I didn't even try. 'Right. Well, settle it amongst yourselves, pilots and engineers together. However, just so you know, I remember that little chat we had with your folks, and they suggested that I should be very careful about what I agree to when it comes to you. So I'll just say that I'm going along with upping my mark 5 to mark 7 – with the engineers on board – only because the sooner we reach our velocity, the sooner we can be done with engines and relax a bit, not because you've talked me around to it.'

'Why Captain, your word is law. I'm a Guild pilot after all. I wouldn't think of trying to tell you how to run your ship,' she said, with a straight face.

'I don't believe that for an instant,' I replied sternly. 'I expect all my crew to give me straight, honest answers. Please do so in the future.'

'Yes, Captain,' she said meekly, laughing with her eyes.

'Good,' I said and turned to my displays. If I didn't have absolute confidence in Molaye, as a pilot and as my protégé, I'd have reasons for being nervous. But I did, and wasn't.

When Illy returned, I chased Molaye off of the helm. 'Take your time, I want to feel what mark 5.7 feels like,' I told her. I had, in truth, never piloted the ship at more than mark 4 in my 15 years aboard her.

I switched my com link to the helm console, put my hands to the levers and took charge of the ship in more than just a name on the books.

The rockets, as I mentioned, are controlled by a set of nine levers, one for the main engine and one for each of the smaller, balancing engines. At this point in the voyage, the pilots were fine tuning each rocket's output, adjusting as the engines settled in and searching for just the right balance to keep the ship on course and running as effortlessly as possible. The levers themselves can be set for a wide range of sensitivity. At this stage they were set for fine adjustments, so moving them produced only a minute change in the engine's output, though, like everything aboard the ship, this analog control mechanism directs a far more complex computer driven response. In the old days, before the robot revolt, this process would have been entirely automatic, but these days humans are required to be involved and invested in every significant process, and so we have a human pilot conning the ship with hand operated controls that 12,000 years ago would have seem comical. The upside however, is that the vast power of the rockets is at your fingertips. Molaye had to stand in front of the console glaring at me to get me to give up the helm. Between the com link and my hands on the control, it was, as I said, what you become a rocket ship pilot for.

After giving up the helm, I drifted down to the noise and heat of the engine room where Riv was standing watch.

He nodded as I crossed the catwalk to the control station on top of the main reactor and engine.

I stepped close, and more or less yelled to be heard over the deep roar of the engine and the various whines of the pumps and generators. 'A word with you, Chief.'

He slipped out one of his ear protectors. 'What's up, Skipper?'

'I'm here to make sure we're all on the same chart, Chief, and warn you that our pilots – Molaye anyway – plans to push your engines to mark 7. As far as I'm concerned, anywhere between mark 5 and 7 is fine with me. But what is not fine with me is hearing you complaining about your poor engines being abused and pushed beyond their safe capacity by our pilots. I don't want to hear any carping and whining at all. I've told Lucky up there that your word is law when it comes to pushing the engines. When you say Enough, it's enough. And that's how we'll run it.'

'So now I'm the one who has to say No to your girls, am I?'

'Aye, you are. They're your engines, as you've told me on more than one occasion.'

'And when the pilot/owner tells me to pile on more gees, I'm to say No to her as well?'

'Well, I'm not going to,' I replied with a grin. 'I have to draw the line somewhere.'

'Good to hear, though I'd have thought you might've drawn the line short of kidnapping...'

'In hindsight, you might be right,' I laughed. 'But that's a planet astern. Now I'm drawing the line at telling her how to run her own ship.'

'And handing the job to me.'

'Aye, but you're the man for the job, Chief. Besides, she's not had any cross-training in engineering, so you can just make up any old excuse, say, something about a reflex coolant recovery pump bearing that sounds a bit iffy, or whatever, and it should fly. Even owners need to learn who runs the engine room, don't they?'

'By Neb, they do, Skipper,' he said with a grin and a wink, adding, ' You don't want them getting any wild ideas about owning the engine room too,' and with that, he replaced his ear protector.

I gave him an ironic salute, and retreated to the part of the ship that was mine.

I gave him an ironic salute, and retreated to the part of the ship that was mine.

### Chapter 39 Day 6 Treasure Hunt

I looked around the table with satisfaction. Everyone, including the reclusive Dyn, except the active watch, Vynnia, Kie and Myes (who'd eaten just prior to going on watch) were seated around the saloon table chatting away. We'd just finish the midday, 3rd watch meal, one of two hot meals served in the day, and were relaxing with our desserts. Min, who I was most concerned about, was happily talking with Molaye and Rafe at her end of the table – the far end. She would extend a brief word to acknowledge me when we met, (when other crew members were around, otherwise she never saw or heard me) and she'd answer any direct question, but otherwise kept out of my way. Still, everything and everyone was functioning smoothly, so I was happy enough not to let that bother me. Too much.

Sailing under power is demanding work for the entire crew. Eight of the twelve hours of duty owed the ship are spent actively working at your specialty. Pilots on the bridge, controlling the rockets and keeping the ship on course, the engineers monitoring the engine performance while the electrical and environmental engineers looking after their systems. Our systems techs each stand a watch as lookouts as well as looking after our computer and control systems, while our chefs keep us fed. As for the captain, well this captain, anyway, worries and pitches in where he sees a need.

In addition, everyone stands a less intense four-hour watch where they do general labor about the ship, ranging from repairing equipment in the engineering shop to doing the ship's laundry and weeding the moss garden. Everyone has one free eight-hour double watch that most use for a long nap and one free four-hour watch to eat, relax or nap again.

The upside is that we get to enjoy meals which are hard to prepare and eat in free fall, like the one we'd just had, pasta with midnight mushrooms in a savory red sauce and fresh vegetables, fresh baked rolls and now a dessert of crisp apple fruit and blue berries in a cool sauce, with wine, cha or kaf to drink.

'I say Skipper,' said Tenry from midway down the table. 'What would you say about organizing a scavenger hunt to dig out that drone you claim to have on board after we've finished our dessert? I know Vyn is anxious for us to get working on the drones as soon as we've finished with the engines.'

'Sounds like an adventure. It's listed on our inventory, and I'd say the only place it could be is in that pile of Four Shipmates' memorabilia on the mezzanine of no. 4 hold. Can't think of another place to look.'

'Oh, it's up there, sure enough,' spoke up Riv. 'But I'm not sure how easy it'd be to dig it out under power. Rather buried, not that I'd know, first hand like,' he added with a laugh. 'It might be wise, however, to wait until we're in free fall to get at it.'

'Still, I'd like a look at it to see what shape it's in to get an idea if or how it can be modified with our new sensors. Vyn is pretty insistent that we get those drones up and running as soon as possible, standard Patrol operating procedure,' said Tenry. 'Even in well charted space lanes.'

'I see the wisdom in that, we'll be flying half blind soon enough, so having one ahead suits me, as well,' I replied. I glanced down to table to see Min watching me. 'With your permission, of course, Tallith. I believe you inherited all the 'Shipmate's souvenirs with the ship so everything up there is your personal property.'

'By all means, Captain. Find and remove the drone.' she replied.

'Care to join us and survey your collection of strange and exotic vehicles, pieces of undefined machines and mounds of mysterious crated memorabilia?'

'Thank you, I'm looking forward to doing that some day when I've more time, but I believe I'm slated to help Saysa refine our bio-waste and use it in the nutritional synthesizer to restock our staples pantry this watch. I'd hate to miss that.'

'Ah,' I said, unable to suppress a slight smile. Briefly, the duty involved emptying the bio waste compost tank by running the sludge through a refinery machine which separates its components into pure products that are used as fertilizer for the moss garden and ingredients by the nutritional synthesizer to make things like flour, various faux grains, tubers, sugars, spices and more complicated food like pasta and faux vegetables and such used in cooking.

'First, please note that that duty is scheduled, after we eat... And secondly, I assure you that particular duty is assigned automatically by the crew list rotation, not on an individual basis.'

'If that's your story, Captain, I'd advise you to stick with it,' she replied dryly, with a very straight face. Everyone else was smiling and watching us. They thought it cute.

'Oh, I intend to,' I assured her with a smile.

I can claim no extensive personal knowledge of the other sex, but after serving for 15 years on a ship with a mixed crew, and with Riv and Lilm as a reference point, I knew enough to get a sense that things were slowly on the mend between Min and me. Oh, she was still mad at me, but no longer angry, if you get my drift. Still, I'd no intention of pushing things along, we'd a five-month passage ahead of us and I'd let the easy camaraderie and quiet routine of the ship do its job.

'Right. If anyone else cares to join this expedition, feel free,' I said to the rest of the gang.

Ten minutes later, an intrepid band of explorers – Riv and Lilm, Rafe, Molaye, Lili, Barlan, and the hounds, of course, had all found the time to join Tenry and me around the main access well, armed with torches, ready to brave the spider webs. (Yes, spiders do actually make a living on space ships. Some things you can't escape. Bugs being one of them.)

As we were under power, we trooped up the circling staircase and through the wide companionway separating the two strong rooms and under the mezzanine into the hold proper. The two quarter boxes piled in the far corner and the two drones secured to the deck beside them was more cargo that I've ever seen in no. 4 hold. Besides using the mezzanine as the ship's attic, we used the large hold – nearly 3 decks high and as wide as the ship – for team sports, games like laser tag, and glider/drone/miniature space ship battles.

The mezzanine itself, however, has always been strictly off limits throughout Miccall's reign as captain, though I'm certain everyone has at one time or another, conducted their own secret, and likely brief, survey of what lay tumbled together piled high above the strong rooms. Of course, the larger items, the battered flier, the wheeled land car, and the floater or zep gondola were all more or less visible amongst the piles of junk secured for free fall by cargo nets, but what lay within those cargo nets, the crates and stuff remained, I think, a mystery to us all. Miccall in his time – especially when angry – was not someone to be taken lightly, and unless you were a very old shipmate – and very old shipmates were shipmates who didn't get caught – you'd find yourself on the beach at the next planet if he caught you poking about the ship's attic.

I was brave enough to conduct a brief survey only after Miccall's death and as acting captain, but I didn't press far into the dark, spider and cat infested maze. Little could be made out under the nets, boxes, crates, bits and pieces of machines and robot parts and who knows what else? I didn't linger long, and to tell the truth, having used my privilege as captain once, I've been too busy and too superstitious, to pursue any further investigation. It has a sort of graveyard of memories feel to it, not only of the Four Shipmates, but of other crew members over perhaps hundreds of years, who have for one reason or another, abandoned things aboard the Lost Star.

Without actually organizing it, we set out in parties of two, climbing the ladders set in the strong room bulkheads and over the top and into the narrow dark nooks and crevasses between the vehicles and junk as the nearly feral cats watched from the shadows and the hounds barked instructions from below. Exploring the maze would've been a lot less work in free fall since under power we had to crawl or climb over piles of junk, which limited our search to the lower levels of collection that reached two decks to the hold's ceiling. However, all of the larger, more interesting things were buried on the lower level, so we inspected the battered and strangely styled flier and found another one deeper in, both seemingly scarred by plasma fire. And there's that wide, six wheeled land vehicle and at least five one person rocket boards, some in pieces, which drew Molaye's full attention, plus the large, 12 meter by 9-meter cylinder, with a streamlined, windowed cockpit forward and twin enclosed propellers aft, half buried in cargo nets. The windows of the passenger compartment were too dirty to see more than vague outlines of objects within the locked fuselage even using the powerful torch lights.

'It's not a zep gondola,' declared Riv, surveying it next to me.

'It certainly wouldn't be able to fly unaided with those two stubs of a wing,' I said studying it. 'I suppose the rest of the wings could be buried somewhere, but what makes you certain it's not a lighter-than-air flier?'

'Well, Skipper, I grew up on a pioneer planet. We'd no surface roads to speak of, so we did all our traveling about in zeps. You knew how to fly a zep by the time you were twelve. I know zeps and this isn't a zep gondola. The balance is all wrong to begin with, and there's half a dozen other little things that don't add up either.'

'The wings and tail seem incomplete. Couldn't the gas bag attachments be fitted on to them?'

He shook his head, 'The wings are too far back and with no nose attachment, the whole rig would be out of balance. And look at the way it's built. It's far too heavy and too securely sealed to be a zep. Neb, those bulges might even be weapon pods, and believe me, you don't fight air battles in a zep... I'm not sure what it is. I'm thinking it might be some sort of boat or submarine, though the propellers look wrong for that...'

'I think I found it!' called out Tenry. In fairness, he was likely the only one actually looking for the drone.

I edged my way back through the narrow crevasses to join Tenry along the edge of the mezzanine to where he was standing looking at a fuselage about a meter in diameter. Both ends were hidden in unruly piles of boxes held together by cargo nets, but it seemed unlikely to be anything but the drone.

'Can't be anything else, can it?' I said after a quick inspection. It showed the wear you'd expect to see on something that spent a great deal of time pushing through the dust clouds of the drift. I glanced around considering the options for shifting it to the deck. It'd be a lot easier in free fall and we'd not have time to work on it until then. Still, I did have this big crew on hand whose supposed purpose was to find it, so I called them together and we set out to rig a scheme of cargo handling cables to lift off the cargo netted boxes off and then, after releasing the drone from the cables that secured it to the deck, lift it up and off the mezzanine and on to a makeshift frame on the hold's deck next to the other two – all of which took several hours and struck me as a study in inefficiency. If I didn't know they were all just having fun cursing and arguing with each other about the best way to do everything the whole time, I'd be pretty nervous about the competence of the crew I was sailing with.

As Riv and I were making a final check of the drone's lashings and cradle, he asked with a grin, 'When are you and Tallith going to make the announcement?'

'What announcement?' I asked, absently.

'Oh, you know. I've a high spirited woman of my own, Skipper, so I know how things are. I can see things aren't quite right with you two at the moment, but that'll blow over soon enough. Though it'll happen faster if you were to go crawling back to her, begging for forgiveness.'

I gave him a look. He was only half kidding.

'Well, Chief, I don't have your vast experience in crawling back for forgiveness. However, I can assure you we settled all the issues between us on day one, so there's no need for anyone to be begging forgiveness,' I replied as we turned for the access well. 'And I can't begin to imagine what sort of announcement you expect.'

Actually, I could and it made me rather angry. You have to put up with a lot of guff from your chief engineer, but I rather felt this fell outside of what was required. As Homo Stellar beings, we can turn our sex drives on and off at a conscious level. In the tight, closed worlds of space ships, keeping it off is the usual default setting, unless one's partner is on board. There is a time and place for everything, but being trapped in the little world of the ship was almost never the time, nor place, for casual sexual romance. Indeed, the idea that I would be crazy enough to allow myself to be sexually attracted to Min, especially aboard ship, was insulting. And while shipboard romances are not banned, they are rare aboard ships with small crews. And if they occur, it is customary aboard many ships for crew members in a relationship to openly declare that relationship. Declared shipboard partnerships are considered inviolable in the hope of keeping the tiny isolated society of a space ship more or less on even keel. Spaceers who violate this custom – and of course there are those who do – are usually sent ashore at the next planet of call. So if the crew suspected that we'd taken leave our senses and had developed some sort of romantic entanglement, they'd also expect that it would be announced sooner or later, as demanded by the age old custom. This, as I had feared, is what that little hint of Min's from the Yacht Club to keep Vynnia and Tenry from asking questions has led too. Though in fairness, shanghaiing Min may have rather confirmed this expectation, so I was not entirely blameless. Still...

'Perhaps you know best, they're all different,' he continued, turning a blind eye to my sarcasm. 'But from what I can see, everything's not been settled. The sooner ypu get this settled, the better it'll be, so don't hesitate to crawl back. Makes 'em feel good. And trust me, it's well worth it.'

'I'll keep that sage wisdom in mind for some time, in the far distant future, when it may come in handy. However, for your information, Riv – and get this straight – Min and I have an understanding that requires no announcement. And I can tell it to you plainly and without blushing. She employs me as the captain of her ship. That's the beginning and end of it. Am I making myself clear?'

He gave me a look. 'Then why are you getting so angry? You never get angry.'

'I'm getting angry because you – and anyone else who thinks like you – must think I'm a complete fool. I resent that.'

'Awe, come now, Skipper. You can't fool us. She may be giving you the icy shoulder at the moment, but we can tell. All you need do is make the first move. Why put it off?'

A rocket flared.

'You're making book on this fantasy, aren't you?'

'Why Skipper, I'd never make a book on something like that...'

'Then you've got a pool up and running.'

'Now Skipper, I don't know where you'd get an idea like that,' he said going for an innocent look which didn't make orbit.

'You're evading my question, so put me down for never. How much do I owe you?'

'Awe, come on, Skipper. Don't get mad. We're just having a little fun.'

'Refund the credits. It isn't going to happen. The whole idea is ridiculous. Think about it, mate. Think about it logically. How'd it look for a captain to be sleeping with his or her owner, or an owner sleeping with his or her captain? Both of them would be suspected of being weak or a fool and neither would be respected. This misunderstanding has grown way out of proportion.'

'You carried her off against her will... And you're not one to take a chance like that just to enforce a contract... We know you too well to believe that for an instant.'

'Listen carefully. Here's the deal. Prior to her inheriting the ship I'd offered her the pilot's berth promising her we'd make a tramp spaceer out of her while giving her the chance to meet all of her Min & Co.'s clients while doing so. After she learned the ship was hers, she decided she needed to learn ship owning by serving aboard and so she signed on with the understanding that she'd be a pilot first and a ship-owner only when needed. And that's how things stand.'

'And she changed her mind and you kidnapped her.'

'I chose to enforce my Guild contract with her because I'd come on hard evidence that she was in immediate danger from the people who killed her folks and knew I hadn't the time to convince her of that before we sailed. She knows she's a target and didn't want to put all of us in danger by serving aboard. I think we can deal with it, so I acted as I did. Don't read more into than that.'

'Well, don't get so mad about it. You'd be more convincing. And when you do decide to take the plunge, just give your old shipmate a wink.'

I sighed. Back in the old days, before the robots revolted, I wouldn't have needed a chief engineer... We live in dark times.

### Chapter 40 Day 17 The Engine Room

Seventeen days out of Sanre-tay, still under power. It was hot in the engine room. Hotter than I've ever known it to be. I was leaning against the railing of the control platform staring down into its depths and soaking in the dry heat. The roaring heart of the Lost Star smelled of working machines and ozone. I found comfort in being close to it. Part of it.

As a general rule, sightseers are not welcomed in the engine room, especially under power, but hanging out in the engine room without a reason is one of the captain's privileges. Not one to be abused, mind you, but if I paused and lingered awhile on my nightly rounds, as I was now, they'd not kick about it. I lingered to soak in the warmth and the life contained in the muted fury of the nine rocket engines driving the ship ever faster.

The control platform sits directly above the main reactor and rocket engine, which together, make a ten-meter diameter column of nearly fifty meters in length. Around this central feature is an intricate, organic-like web of struts, grated catwalks and platforms mounting banks of fuel and cooling pumps, generators and transformers linked to the main and eight smaller rocket engines by twisting cables and pipes.

The control panels on the engine room platform are duplicated on the bridge, but on the bridge you're remote, unable to keep as close a watch on your charges as you can working amongst them. By day seventeen, at mark 7.1 acceleration, every element in the complex machinery that delivered fuel and controlled the output of the nine rocket engines was being tested as it hadn't been in fifty years. So the watch engineer on the platform monitored the console readouts while a second and perhaps third engineer scurrying about in the cavernous depths of the room, looking after this pump and that generator, making sure everything was running smoothly. Of course each piece of equipment had its sensor and status light on the platform, but lights on a control panel are just lights. You needed to see and touch each of your charges if you're an engineer and want to really know what was going on with your machines.

Lilm had the watch and was slumped on a tall stool keeping an eye on the panel, listening and smelling the hot air for the slightest trace of something running too hot or shorting out. Tenry, once more an engineer, was somewhere in the maze below, inspecting the machines, putting his hand on them to make sure they were running silky smooth and cool, noting any questionable reading.

'Everything running smoothly, Chief?' I yelled to Lilm, just to be polite.

She didn't bother to yell a reply; a curt nod was her only reply.

Lilm and her partner Riv had a mutually agreeable tempestuous partnership. As Riv said, she was a high spirited woman. And so, while Riv was the Chief Engineer on our books, in reality, that title changed with the watch. Lilm was every bit the chief engineer, as tough and as stubborn as Riv, if not more so. Who was actually calling the shots in that partnership, and in the engine room, at any given time, was an open question. In practice we called both of them Chief, and when they were both present, we usually asked a general question, "Say, Chief, what's the status..." and waited to see who'd answer so we'd know who was in charge at the moment. However, with Lilm on the platform and Riv grabbing a nap, there was no doubt who was Chief at the moment. Fortunately, she was in a relatively mellow mood and wasn't glaring daggers at me to get lost, so I rested on the railing and brooded in peace.

I wasn't brooding all that darkly. I was, in fact, remarkably content for a captain on notice. Not that Min and I were any closer than we'd been from day one, but that was actually working out smoothly. She seemed to have settled seamlessly into the routine of the ship and the society of her shipmates, and I was quite content for things to go on that way a while longer. We'd a long voyage ahead of us, plenty of time to sort things out between us.

Mostly, I was just enjoying the heat and noise. The composite D-matter hull which protects us from the full spectrum of the electromagnetic radiation the nebula and our passage kicked up also keeps the heat generated within the hull by its crew and all the machinery inside as well, so it must be either converted into electricity by our thermoelectric converters or moved outside to the heat exchangers on the hull. After seventeen days under power, both heat exchange systems were running just about flat out.

The Lost Star was designed to be primarily an interplanetary freight liner which needed no more than two to ten day burns to jump from planet to planet. An interstellar jump like this, which required a 20-day burn to reach interstellar velocity fell outside the ship's optimal range. Not dangerously so, but still, it was noticeably warmer aboard the ship, and I, for one, wasn't complaining. I'm certain we'd let the temps fall back to Port Prime standard once we were done with the engine, but like ol'Sunny Day I was coming to rather appreciate the ship's more tropical climate.

Well, I'd best get on with my nightly inspection, I thought, so I pushed myself off the railing and started for the catwalk to the main access well. Having seventeen days of pseudo gravity was another novelty. I was getting quite accustomed to it. Not only did it made cooking and eating easier but it kept the cats and dogs attached to the deck.

I gave Lilm a wave as I turned and climbed the stairs that circled the well to the next deck up, the engineering deck. The engineering workshop lay on my left as I stepped out into the broad passage way of the deck, and the environmental office and control room lay on my right. I looked in on both, but both were empty, the bank of status lights in the environmental office a solid green. I walked ahead, checking the locks on the supply lockers and our food freezer before climbing a steep side access ladder to the bridge deck.

Min and Kie had the bridge watch and I gave them a break and headed up through the silent and dim lit crew and passenger decks and on to the awning deck. Rafe and Myes were playing Black Star on the Bistro table, and Illy was reading in the dimness of the awning deck commons. I watched the game for a while and headed up to no. 4 hold.

The sound of the engines was muffled by the four decks below, so the hold seemed strangely silent, and the large space was lit only by several dim cargo lights. Deep shadows hung about its far corners and from the mezzanine with its jumbled surface of shadows and deeper shadows, I could sense more than see the cats watching me. Even after exploring the mezzanine in our search for the drone, I'm still not completely comfortable in no. 4 hold, alone, in the dim light. As I may have mentioned, I'm no more superstitious than the next spaceer, but there seemed too many memories about the place to be completely comfortable. People have lived and died aboard this tiny little world for more than a thousand years, and each of them has left something etched in the atmosphere, the ether, of the ship behind them, and those memories seemed to be strongest in no. 4 hold. I stood for a few moments in the middle of the hold searching the shadows for something that wasn't there, and checking the locks on the two strong rooms, and headed down. And another day reached its home port.

### Chapter 41 Day 21 The Fifth Shipmate

The silence was deafening after 20 days of the low but constant roar of the engines. Of course it's never completely silent aboard a ship – there are always a multitude of fans and motors running all about the ship, but these small sounds often only emphasized the silence of a ship in the endless black sea of space.

I stepped out from the bridge into the passageway, and noticed light streaming from the tech office's open door-panel. It occurred to me that I'd not had a chance to talk with Rafe about the true log project since we left Sanre-tay orbit, so I shuffled free fall style in my magnetic soled boots once again, down the short companionway and looked in.

'Hey Rafe, have a minute?' I asked from the doorway.

He swung his chair around to greet me, 'Hi Willy. Always a minute for the Cap'n.'

'I realize you didn't have a lot of time to work on it since we left Sanre-tay, but I was just wondering how our project is going?'

'Aye, not a lot. Still, I've been meaning to talk to you about what I have found. Step in, and slide that door-panel closed, will you?' And with a sweeping wave of his hand invited me to take the other seat in the small office/workshop.

'What'd you find?' Curious now, as I slid the door-panel closed behind me.

'Not very much at all, at least what we were looking for. Truth be told, Willy, I'm afraid I've about reached the limit of what I can do without turning up very much. With Tenny's help, we've recovered all of the log I believe recoverable with all the data we're likely ever to have. We've extracted a thirty-five-year period backwards from when the current log gets real fifty-three years ago, so we've almost eighty-eight years of records that go back to when Hawker Vinden actually purchased the ship.'

'Well, that sounds rather promising.'

He shook his head. 'I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed. First off, if you expected the log to provide some context to all their yarns, you're going to be disappointed. Most of the tales they told likely happened, if they happened at all, prior to Hawker's actual purchase of the ship. I believe they served on this ship off and on for several decades before purchasing it. I've no idea how things worked back before they actually owned the ship. Those earlier logs were kept by a series of different captains, for which we have no data to use as a hook to fish and extract data. Plus, with all the crew using different names and constantly changing them, we really can't use much of what we've learned to go back further. So prior to Tenny's first contact with the Four Shipmates, it's pretty much a blank slate and likely to stay that way, if we have to rely on the ship's log.'

'What've you learned from what we've recovered? They had to be up to something in those thirty-five years...'

'I'll turn the log over to you when I'm completely finished fishing. There's just a few more treads to pull, but I don't expect any surprises. From what I've found, I can tell you there's nothing alarming in the log with which you need to concern yourself. It's just a typical log, a complex record of the cargoes they hauled between Unity ports and far sketchier records of their trading in the drifts, with several odd blank sections lasting years at a time when they seemed to somehow avoid leaving any record at all. Don't know how they managed that. The one factor that may be significant is that many of those voyages begin and end on Kintrine, a drift world of some sort. It would seem to have been some sort of home port for them back then. I don't know how helpful that will be to the lass.'

'Kintrine? Never heard of it. Where is it?'

'On the far side of the Ninth Star, half way between Alantzia and Amdia, on the edge of the inner drifts. In short, the middle of nowhere at all...'

'Well, that figures. Two or three years away...' I said, lost in thought. 'Can't imagine there'd be any reason why we'd ever have a reason to go there.'

'Can't imagine why anyone would...'

We considered that in silence for a moment or two. We'd be hard pressed to find any reason to take the ship half way across the Nebula to a tiny drift world, which would involve a long trip around the Neb to Alantzia through the drifts...

'Ah, Willy...'

'Yes?'

'Well, you see, Willy, I'm in a somewhat awkward position... I may've unintentionally found something important. Or not. I'm not certain.'

'What, and how so?'

He considered the question before shrugging and saying, 'I'll leave it to you to deal with. I'll trust you to handle this with tact, if you think it's even necessary to pursue it at all.'

'What are you leaving to me to pursue?' I asked warily.

'Well, you see, in digging through the true log, I've come to believe that there may have been actually five Shipmates, not just four.'

'Five shipmates? How could that be? And what makes you think that?'

He shrugged again, 'I can't be sure how important it is. I can't be sure there was a fifth, but, well, I've got this feeling, Willy. It makes too much sense...'

I gave him a close look. He knew, he was just being cagey. 'I know you too well, Rafe. You'd not put your reputation on the line on an off chance. You know. And you intend to tell me. So do so.'

'I'm trusting you Wil. Deal with this carefully.' he said gravely.

I nodded my agreement.

'As I said, it seems that the whole crew changed their names every time they changed the name and registry of the ship, which they changed every time they went into the drift and back. So not only did crew members come and go over those thirty some years, but those that stayed sailed with constantly shifting names. So what I'm going to tell you is little more than a shrewd guess – a feeling – on my part.

'What makes this so awkward,' he continued, 'is that I've come to believe that our old shipmate Dyn has been aboard the ship ever since the late Hawker bought it, and likely long before...' He paused to watch my reaction, and hurried on, 'You see, Willy, each crew member's record is like a thread which changes colors with each name change. I can usually find enough clues in the log to tell me if a crew member leaves, breaking the old thread, or if it merely changed color with a new name for an old crew member on the books. There are subtle clues in the payroll accounts, crew accommodations, health records and stuff that link one name to another. I believe I can account for all the threads, and they all eventually break, except for those of the Four Shipmates and, well, one more. So unless I've missed a break somewhere, there's a fifth unbroken thread running through all those years and to my knowledge, remains unbroken right up until today. And yet, this fifth shipmate has remained completely in the shadows, never mentioned in the stories at all. Can you think of anyone aboard the ship today that is more likely to be this shadowy fifth shipmate than Dyn zerDey? And I can tell you this, fifty-two years ago, when I first signed on, back in the Apier System, just before Miccall took her to Azminn, Dyn was already aboard with every indication of having been on board a long time.'

'I didn't know that you came over with the Lost Star.'

'Yes, Willy, I'd signed on two years before they decided to sail for Azminn. Bar and Say signed on when I did and the rest that came over, after us. So if I'm right about this fifth shipmate, if I haven't missed a break in that thread or tied two broken threads together, Dyn would seem to be the only one who fits that description.'

'Yes, I'd have to agree...'

'And if I'm right, then he's sailed with the Four Shipmates during all of the dark ages of the Lost Star I've spent hours fishing out, which, I must point out, makes all my work in vain, since he can just tell us all about that period. If he chooses too. Or should I say – if he had chosen to, since he certainly knows about this project of mine. So how much more does he know, and why hasn't he said anything? How far back does he go?'

I stared at him thinking what I knew of Miccall and Dyn.

'He and Miccall were inseparable,' I said, after some musing. 'I always knew he came with the old gang to Azminn, but never asked him about his stories. He's a closed book, and I've never felt I knew him well enough to quiz him about his and Miccall's relationship. It makes sense, now that you point it out. A lot of sense. Certainly, if anyone was with them during those days, and yet would never be mentioned, it could only have been Dyn. He seems to simply fade into the background, and would even if he didn't spend so much of his time between the hulls...'

'Exactly. But Willy, before you go off running to ask him about it, keep in mind that Dyn's known about this project and of all the trouble those old days may have brought to young Min, and said nothing. At least nothing we know of. Though perhaps he's talked to Min on his own. We don't know for sure, do we?'

I shook my head. 'Not that I know.'

'And remember, We've no way of knowing how much of the story he does know. He may not figure into their accounts because he was never involved in them in any substantial way. He may simply have nothing to offer. You'd best consider long and carefully if you want to open this box up, my lad. Do you really want to put Dyn on the spot? We're off to the drifts, and I'm certain you'd not want to replace an environmental engineer with a drifteer spaceer on the beach.'

I nodded. 'Point taken. Do you intend to mention this in your report to Min or will she have to figure it out for herself?'

'It'll not be in the report, but, if she digs deep enough into the log itself, she might come to realize it – but she'd have to dig deep.'

'Damn. It is bloody awkward,' I said, thinking of all the implications. 'I certainly don't want to put Dyn on the spot, yet I have a feeling anything I say will put him on the spot. As you said, we have to assume he knows about your work and what happened to Min's folks... Though it's hard to see what he could've done, or be doing to help. I think we can trust that he'll speak up should the time come when it's critical. Or, as you say, he may have decided just to confide in Min. And yet, if he hasn't and she figures it out, and realizes that we're withholding this information...'

'Aye, Willy. That's the problem. We don't know what he knows, where he stands or how to find out without starting something... Unfortunate.'

'Well, I'm certain we can trust him. It's just a matter of, well approaching him... when to approach him, why to approach him...'

'I'll leave it to you, Willy. If I said anything, it'd be meddling. If you did it, it's ship's business.'

'Do you think I need to at all?'

He shrugged and gave me a look. 'You, perhaps know more about that than I.'

'Perhaps. Though not enough to know what to do. We'll just see how I feel after giving this some thought, I guess. We've time enough...'

'That, we have.'

'Well, thanks Rafe for all your work. Let me see the log and report when you're done, and I'll turn it over to Min. I'll think about how to deal with Dyn.'

### Chapter 42 Day 22 Reconciled

I stepped out into the dim light of hold no. 4 from the short companionway when something large and dark swooped down like a giant bat and struck me in the chest with an "Uff!", breaking my magnetic contact with the deck and sending me bouncing off the companionway bulkhead.

There was some startled exclamations. And some grabbing and pushing followed by some 'Bloody! Blasted Neb!' and other pithier phrases and pointed comments as we struggled to regain contact with the deck and sorted ourselves out.

'Blast it, screeching like that must have startled a year off my life!' exclaimed Min, pushing away from me as her soles touched the deck. I quickly let her go when I realized what had happened and stepped back, trying to swallow my heart caught in my throat.

Realizing it was just my owner, dressed in her customary black, I bit off an angry retort, and after a moment spent collecting my scattered wits, said, 'I'm very sorry I yelped and startled you, it's just...'

'Yelped? You did more than yelp,' she exclaimed. Her face was mostly in shadow, but her tone, though sharp, had an edge of teasing in it. Now.

'Well, I certainly wasn't expecting to be jumped from out of the dark, so I'd say you're lucky I only yelped,' I replied, pointing out the salient point. 'I'm a dangerous man in an ambush.'

She laughed.

I decided not to press that point, so I said, 'Well, I am sorry to have startled you.' Not strictly speaking, crawling and begging for forgiveness, as advised by Riv, I'll grant you, but there was an "I'm sorry" in there and that would have to do for the moment.

'I suppose I'm also sorry to have frightened you half to death. It was unintentional. I couldn't see you standing in the companionway when I swung down. I'm sure I'm lucky just to be alive.'

'You are, at that. I was just looking in on my nightly rounds, and I'm never very comfortable up here anyway... Which brings me to the question, what were you doing up in the mezzanine – with the lights off?' I asked

'Oh, there's light enough to see all I needed to see. I was just taking a little survey of my treasures.'

'In the dark? Wouldn't it have been easier if the lights were on?'

'It's not that dark, and well, I was... I was trying to get, well, a sense of what those things mean, their qi, if you will. A sense of how they fitted into the Shipmates' lives – why they're still here, preserved all this time. I'll have time to look into them more, if I care to, in my free time. With your permission, of course, Captain,' she added rather sarcastically, I'm sure.

'Oh, there's a qi about this place, at least in the dark, though I can't imagine it'd really tell you anything...'

'Perhaps not, but I've an intuitive feeling that there's lots of answers up there in these piles of junk... If I knew the questions,' she added quietly. 'There had to be a reason they hung on to all that junk.'

'I don't know. They weren't in the habit of leaving answers or even clues behind. It could be as simple as they were pack rats, never quite comfortable abandoning anything that might come in handy some day...'

She just shrugged, and we stood in silence for a long moment or two.

'Can we talk, Tallith?' I was determined to mend things between us, if she'd let me.

She just shrugged again which I decided to take as a Yes.

'Let's go and sit by the lockers,' I suggested, and started for the shadowed corner where we kept our sports equipment. I didn't think anyone would be up, but I preferred our talk to be private.

She hesitated before saying, 'We can talk here. There's not much we have to say, and I'm tired and ready for my hammock.'

'As you wish. There isn't much we have to say that can't wait. It's just that I'm getting tired of being considered cute, and I suspect you are, too.'

'Cute, Captain?' she asked, her face unreadable in the dark. 'I wouldn't say that.'

I smiled. Sarcastic again, but still, we were talking again, and comfortably.

'As I'm certain you know; the crew thinks I kidnapped you for romantic reasons. They know, but choose to ignore the fact, that I thought you were in danger. And they've draw the wrong conclusion from the fact that I'm not known for taking chances. Instead they find us humorous, the way we act when around each other, our proper coolness and all that. Aye, they, or at least some of them, find it very humorous indeed. And I'm sorry to say that I believe they've set up a pool as to when we're going to make our announcement. I'm sure you'll agree with me that we should put an end to that idea.'

'Why, you're dumping me, Wil!' she laughed.

Her good humor was promising, so I continued. 'I'm just trying to get everything in balance. You seem to have settled into your berth aboard your ship very comfortably. As I hoped. The only thing out of balance is our relationship. I'm not pleading for my job, I serve at your pleasure, as does any captain. I'm just trying to get things right between us, Tallith, now, and for the rest of this voyage. I want us to be comfortable with each other again, like we were – however briefly. If you don't want me to be captain of your ship, that's fine with me – it is your prerogative – but that needn't come between us. What I did can't be undone, so let's not let that come between us either. I did it for you, as I would've for any of my shipmates. We work well together, landing the Tilador and Isleta charters prove that. Let's build on that...'

'Oh, for Neb's sake, Wil,' she sighed. 'Quit being so bloody earnest. Do you really believe I can stay angry for half a year? Even at you.'

'Well, no. But I'm a lot less certain about 21 days.'

She shrugged and wiggled a hand. 'Twenty-one days is a bit iffier.'

'But I'm thinking No,' I ventured. 'So are we friends and partners again?'

She played at considering it for a while. Then with a sigh said, 'Oh, I suppose so. I'm tired of sneaking around my own ship just to dodge running into you. '

'That's the spirit!' I said trying to match her approach. 'I wasn't enjoying sneaking about myself. But seriously, Min, I know what I did greatly offended you. If there'd been any other way... And I accept the consequences. No hard feelings...'

'Oh, forget what I said back then, too. You'll be judged more by your performance as captain, more than how much you annoy me.'

'Thank you, I'd appreciate that.'

'Don't be too sure. You annoy me an awful lot, so you need be a great captain,' she replied. 'In any event, I don't really think what else there is to sort out, but if there's a great deal more, it'll have to wait until we've more time. I need to be down to the bridge in less than four hours,' she added.

'There's nothing more that needs to be sorted out tonight.' I felt more tension than I'd expected start to unravel within me. I'd always thought we'd settle things, but apparently I wasn't as certain as I told myself I was. 'There are a lot of things we should talk about, of course, but everything can wait.'

'Good, because I'm tired and want a nap before my watch,' she replied, pushing off from the bulkhead that we'd been leaning on, and starting for the access well.

I turned and paced her. 'There is one thing I'd like you to think about.'

'And what's that?'

'I was thinking that we should reset your position aboard your ship. We're a very flat society aboard ship, I'm just one of the gang, my authority balanced by their seniority. As owner, you're above me, but then again, they've known you since you were eleven years old, and that image of you as that little girl still colors their thinking. We all realize you're the person behind the White Star Line and you own this ship. We all know you make the big decisions, just as everyone realizes that if I actually give an order, it must be obeyed. But until that actually happens, it's liberty hall. It's not a bad system, it works for us. Still, I think, you should, well, establish yourself as owner symbolically by moving into the Owner's Suite. On an everyday level I don't think it would change anything, but it would be important in the sense that it conforms to the, well, reality of our little society.'

'Everyone knows. Why bother?' she asked as we stood at the edge of the shaft.

'It's simply where you belong. We're proud of you. And at the risk of sounding fawning, you're a very unique owner, young, beautiful, striking, and competent, and we take pride in that. Besides, there's no real reason to pretend you're merely a pilot, at least amongst ourselves. You can continue to become a tramp spaceer as owner just as well. All the watches you stand, all the cross training you do is aimed at getting your master's ticket as soon as you can. Then you can be both owner and master of the Lost Star, if you choose. Residing in the owner's suite would give symbolic clarity to the actual order of this ship, which I think is important in our little world.'

'Do you really think where I bunk is really that important?'

'No more important than the badges we wear on our caps, and yet, we do. You've a natural air of authority and moving into the owner's suite will align symbols and reality to insure that everyone aboard knows you give the orders on this packet...'

'Right! I seem to recall giving some orders that struck someone as optional.'

'Which seems to prove my point. If you'd been installed in the owner's suite, I'd not have had to shanghai you...'

'Right,' she said rolling her eyes as we reached the access well.

'Just think on it. No urgency. We'll make whatever you decide work. And on one other thing, that just occurred to me. I was talking to Rafe the other day about that true log project I told you about on Lontria. He's nearly finished recovering the log, but I'm afraid it doesn't add much to our understanding of what concern us. It seems that by the time your uncle acquired the Lost Star, most of their adventures were in the past or at any rate, they occurred during some strange blanks spaces in the real log. In any event, it doesn't seem as helpful as I'd hoped, though I'll pass it along to you once he's finished.

'I'd appreciate that. And I appreciate the effort you and Rafe have put into it. Do you have anything else for me to consider tonight?'

I shook my head, 'No. Nothing more, for tonight, anyway. I guess that's the great simplicity of being in space. I'm sure we've a lot to talk about, but we've lots of time to talk. Do you have anything for me? I've been doing most of the talking.'

'No, I've been confining all my thoughts to piloting and getting to know the workings of this ship. I've not bothered thinking about the future.'

'Am I right in thinking that everything has worked out for you?' I asked. 'Everything I've heard suggests you've been happy and have fit right in, but I know you can hide your feelings.'

'They have,' she allowed. 'Don't worry about me,' she replied and stepped off into the well.

I followed and pushed up on one of the poles that lined the shaft. As we drifted down past the awning deck, we passed Molaye who was just approaching the well. She stopped and stared for a brief moment before a wide smile brightened her face, which she held, despite my hard glare as we dropped out of sight. There are no secrets aboard a space ship. Not for long, anyway.

### Chapter 43 Day 28 Shipboard Life

Molaye and I had the watch. Just like old times. I'd spent two years standing watch with her bringing her along as an apprentice pilot. She's a natural rocket pilot, so it wasn't a demanding job, just occasionally nerve racking when she would be more of a rocket pilot than I thought she should be at that stage.

'I've been meaning to ask you if are you're out of the pool yet?' I asked as we sat on the bridge, monitoring the long range sensors. We'd gotten the ship's old drone refurbished and it was now sailing ahead of us, just within contact range – with its sensor reading being relayed to us, we had a comfortable radar range now. When we weren't under power, we'd just two people on the watch, mostly on lookout duty and to monitor the ship's systems, and to keep each other awake.

She gave me a hard, squinty-eyed look. 'Yes. No thanks to you, Captain.'

'Sorry,' I said insincerely, with a smile.

The day after my encounter with Min in no. 4 hold, she told me that she saw no reason why she shouldn't occupy the owner's suite, so after our evening meal, I took the opportunity to announce that change. Unfortunately, I phrased the announcement rather awkwardly, as in, I've been taking to Tallith, and we'd like to announce... at which point, Molaye broke in with a sharp, quiet Yes! and a broad smile, which generated broad smiles around the table as well.

I realized immediately that the nature of our announcement had been misinterpreted, by Molaye, if not all the others.

Grinning broadly, Molaye said 'Sorry to interrupt you, go on Captain. You and Tallith are about to announce what?'

I gave her my darkest, most menacing glare, which never had any effect on her, and continued with the announcement about Min moving into the owner's suite.

Undeterred, Molaye boldly asked where I was moving to, and when I told her I wasn't moving anywhere, she gave me my dark menacing stare right back. She's had her ticket less than four months now, and I'm beginning to see in her what I'd been warned about. She is fearless. And bold. But her saving grace is that she's also absolutely loyal, so that I can easily put up with what other captains might consider insolence because I trust her. And she's a great rocket pilot, every bit as good as Min. I was a lucky captain in that regard, though there was a price to be paid.

Anyway, back on the bridge...

'You let me down, Captain,' she continued. 'Our dashing captain goes and kidnaps our owner and carries her off for what should be a five-month honeymoon, and then, suddenly loses his nerve and just pussyfoots around, like some old Captain Crofter. It's damn annoying. And I bet it's annoying to Min too.'

'That's just your missing credits talking. And I happen to like the Captain Crofter stories.'

'You surprise me, Captain!' she exclaimed sarcastically.

In the world of fictional space stories, Captain Crofter, or ol'Cap'n Crofter is a fictional grumpy owner of a run-down in-system trader who's always being put upon and whining about it, holding down the opposite end of the fictional spectrum from Brilliant Pax, the fearless doer of bold deeds.

'Well, I'm certainly not Brilliant Pax.'

'You almost were! All of a sudden, the mild mannered, better safe than sorry, mister efficiency first mate bumped up to captain, starts acting boldly, never say never, sweeping his girl off her feet and carrying her away, like it or not. And then, just as suddenly, it's back to the mild mannered, hapless, apologetic Cap'n Crofter... If you start something, finish it!' she said. I knew she was playing the Dark Neb's knife, and playing it more sharply than just about anyone on board, except perhaps Riv and Illy would dare to, because she knew full well she could get away with it. However, I suspect there was a bit of true feelings in her protest as well.

'The change was all in your imagination. You seem to forget that I hardly swept Min off her feet. I sent Vyn and Ten to enforce a Guild contract. Hardly a beacon of ardor or boldness.'

'And why not?'

'Because they could do it more efficiently than I. But the real point here is that there is no romantic relationship between Min and me. She's our owner, my boss, and our shipmate, and I assure you no one's going to win those credits.'

'It wasn't losing my credits, it's you. Lift it, Captain. You're too young to act like an old Captain Crofter!'

'And too old to act young,' I replied with a laugh. 'I am what I am.'

Still I've changed, and changed a lot, I think. At least I notice changes in little things. For example, take yesterday's twin blade practice in no. 4 hold.

We'd spent almost two hours working out under Barlan's instructions, Molaye, Kie and myself. Molaye the ever the faithful protégé, had taken up Mycolmtre's two blade style fencing as a form of exercise, as had Kie, though more to be with Molaye than to learn the art – though with her carefree fierceness, he might look on it as a precaution as well. After we'd finished going through our exercise and forms, Barlan and I started our usual sparring session to end the practice.

Across the deck, the two new drones were spread out – Riv was straddling one of them directing Min in removing a fuel pump or something, while Tenry and Rafe were dismantling the control system in the nose cone.

I was working hard even though we were fencing in free fall and only kept attached to the deck by our bio-controlled magnetic boots. Keeping fit in free fall is hard work, and bio-electric stimulation, while effective in maintaining muscle tone and strength, is not all that pleasant, and generally avoided, so that the muscles built by twenty days of pseudo gravity were already in danger of growing slack. To try to prevent that, I was working hard, even fiercely.

I may not have been working any harder than I had in the past, but my outlook, and perhaps my style had changed as a result of my duel. Between fear, unfamiliar weapons, and an unfamiliar setting I may have fenced at perhaps 45% of my potential. And looking back, that was a sobering thought. Only the fact that Max was totally unfamiliar with the techniques of two blade fencing allowed me to escape the duel alive. But getting out alive changed me. I'd a different perspective on our sparring now. On one hand, I knew from firsthand experience, all the touches and hits Barlan scored on me would have ended my life had it been a real duel, but I also knew I couldn't expect my opponent to fall on his sword either. I had to make things happen and...

And it was just that quick. I simply knew what Barlan was going to do next – we'd been sparring for 15 years – and I knew both the safe defense, which I'd always used, if I could, and the counter move and attack which I never did, but I used it now, because that's what I would've needed to do in a real duel...

In an instant I trapped his blade between my dagger and sword hilts and wrenched it from his grip to send it twisting through the air, luckily towards a blank bulwark and leaped to the attack. Well, Barlan is a master of the art and still had more skill than I with only his dagger. He had to move, and move swiftly, but he did and nearly reached me in one attack. We may have sparred for a minute or two, two blades against one short one, before I decided to quit while I was ahead, so I leaped back and saluted him to end the match.

He returned the salute and tore off his mask with a wide grin. 'At last!' he exclaimed stepping over and giving me a great hug. 'No one's disarmed me in a hundred years! You've come on to your own, Wil!'

'For all the good it did me. I had to quit while you were still untouched. You'd have touched me sooner or later.'

'You did that so you'd not tire an old man out.'

'Hardly Bar, you almost had me with your dagger several times. And well, after 15 years, our fencing is pretty much like a dance, I know what you're going to do next. The only difference is this time I did something other than what I've always done at just the right time.... Something you taught me well '

'Ah but that's the point. You saw the pattern and attacked in the pattern. It won't take another 15 years to see the pattern once you have the insight. I'll have to be very careful from here on out, Wil. You've come into your own.'

I added, 'Finally!'

Still it made my day. And though I may've come into my own – I haven't been able to do it again, though I try it a lot more often these days.

I can hardly take credit for the changes, most have been forced on me by circumstances well beyond my control. I've found a bit of ruthlessness in me, that I never knew I had. Enforcing my Guild contracts with not only Min, but with Tenry and Vynnia as well, would've been well out of character for me a year ago. Only my reputation for looking after details and being a slave to efficiency gives this ruthlessness some cover. I'm far from certain I like all this change, but I'm pretty certain it, and all the other little ways I've changed, are all quite necessary.

I'll conclude this entry, with a short description of life aboard the Lost Star now that we're done with engines, and will be for the next two months.

Once the engines are shut down and we're no longer accelerating, the atmosphere aboard ship changes. We settle into a more relaxed and rather timeless routine – a nearly frictionless groove – so necessary for a happy ship in space. As in our planetary runs, everyone still has their twelve hours of work, but with such a long passage ahead of us, we take this very causally. The active watch on the bridge is reduced to two people who act as lookouts and can make course changes if necessary. Being tramp spaceers, everyone on board can con the ship when it's coasting, correcting the slight alterations or avoiding rocks using the steering rockets, so everyone stands a single four-hour watch on the bridge each day, with the other eight hours spent working in whatever department needs some extra hands. Twelve hours of work is excessive on a Unity planet, but aboard ship, where the options for using one's free time are very limited compared to a planet, the casual work of a coasting ship is more welcomed than dreaded.

The engineering department absorbs a great deal of this surplus labor. After a power run, much of the equipment is gone over and refurbished, if necessary. It's not so much that the equipment is frail, but rather that a failure can be expensive and potentially catastrophic. And if neglect should disable a ship, the ship's captain and the chief engineer usually end up flying taxis, assuming they survived their neglect.

Usually these free fall days last no more than a week or two when sailing in the planetary belts of the eight stars, but we'll have two months of idle time before we'll be under power again, and then, for only a few days while we shape our course for Zilantre on the far side of the Anjur Passage. After that it's back to free fall for a month and a half until we begin our deceleration. In short, idle days stretch far beyond our usual horizon, so we've adopted a very easy pace.

Luckily, we have several big projects to keep us busy. The first is the refurbishing of the three drones. If we end up sailing in the drifts, we'd we'd need them to sail safely at a reasonable speed. Even now we have the old drone sailing ahead, though in this well-traveled space lane, it's not strictly necessary, since the sensor records of every Guild ship that travels this route are available to all ships, keeping the survey always up to date.

With a great deal of time on our hands, Riv promised he'd not only restore the drones as good as new, but rather, better than new – with upgraded sensors and controls. Of course, when he said he'd restore them better than new, he meant he'd direct and supervise crew members who'd do the actual work. But then, that's the way the knowledge is passed along. And Riv gets his hands dirty often enough – even while sitting atop a drone directing people can be weary work after a while. Seeing that I hope to have the opportunity of restoring a rocket boat of my own someday, I've taken a hand in the rebuilding process as well, though I make certain our three youngest crew members, Min, Molaye and Kie have plenty of opportunity to learn as well.

In addition, I've been spending several hours each day working in the garden and galley, and forcing myself to spend an hour or two delving into the vast volume of shipping intelligence reports Min had assembled on Lontria concerning both the Amdia and Aticor systems and the Myzar Drift. Once our Zilantre cargo is delivered, we'll need to find agents and shipbrokers if we're to make our way in this new trade system, and finding agents that'll serve our needs well, meant going through hundreds of captains' reports to pick out the most successful agents serving our trade. It was rather dry reading, and though I'd more than four months to get through it, I knew that three months from now I was unlikely to find them any more interesting, so I've kept on it.

With more free time, our musically talented people have begun an ambitious program of adding new pieces to their repertoire. This means we have music either in the library – when they're first working out the tune – or as a concert on the awning deck under the dark glowing sky of the Nine Star Nebula. We'd a million books and vids to read and watch, and everyone has a hobby or two – many of which lie idle, save for long voyages like this, so we've kept busy so far, but, we've only began.

### Chapter 44 Day 34 A Talk with Dyn

Three days ago Rafe turned in the true log of the Lost Star and his report to Min. As I've mentioned, it added little to the stories of the Four Shipmates, save the hints of a Fifth Shipmate, which we rather hoped Min would never notice. Other than that, its most notable feature was three, several-year-long stretches of blankness – no ship readings at all – which shouldn't be possible. Rafe admitted to being unable to explain how the ship's automatic recorders could be shut down since they were so deeply integrated with the operation of every system aboard the ship. And yet, this very lack of evidence was a strong hint that there was something to the Four Shipmate's stories.

She thanked Rafe for all his work, and said she'd look it over and if she had any questions, she'd get back to him. So, with the report now in her hands, the question of what to do or say to Dyn became more pressing.

Dyn, I'll admit, is a mystery. As close as he was to Captain Miccall, he's always been a very shy and retiring person with everyone else. He was essentially, Miccall's shadow. Perhaps he was always a fragile soul, but with the death of Miccall, he's closed himself in even more, so the last thing I'd want to do was drag him into the spotlight. But not knowing how soon or how closely Min would study the recovered log, or how closely she'd grill Rafe, I wanted to have a word with him about the log if only to make sure he'd not be taken off guard – even though, like Rafe, he seemed to know just about everything that goes on within the ship. I was, however, reluctant to summon him for a meeting, which would be unusual for me and likely put him off. So I let it ride, until I happened to find Dyn alone in the screen and status light lit environmental control room working at his control panel.

'Evening Dyn,' I said, as he turned to see me at the door.

'Evening Wil. Making your rounds?'

'Aye, useless I know, but it's a ritual now.'

He nodded. Never one for conversation.

'Are you very busy or can we have a little chat?'

He shrugged. I decided to take that as a yes, and slid the door-panel closed behind me.

'First off, I want you to know that this is just between you and me, and will go no further.'

'What's this about?' he asked, turning to watch me, warily.

'I believe you're aware of my efforts to recover the true log...'

He nodded.

'And I'm certain you realize that Rafe is not only good, but can be relied on to keep secrets...'

He nodded again, growing even more wary.

'I'm pretty sure you can guess what Rafe found, but I'll just say it anyway. He believes there was, in addition to the Four Shipmates, one more crew member who was aboard the Lost Star during all the years Captain Miccall was in command of it, and likely earlier. A Fifth Shipmate, so to speak. That someone is most likely you.'

He said nothing, watching me. So I pressed on.

'You also know Min's determined to find out all she can about who killed her parents and why. It seems clear that the trail leads directly into the past lives of the Four Shipmates. And I'll add that whoever is behind her parents' murder – and there's no doubt in my mind that it was murder – is also determined to kill her too, so this is not an exercise in academic curiosity. It's a question of life and death. That makes it important for me to know if you were along during those years and can perhaps throw some light on the subject. I've no doubt about your loyalty to the ship, Tallith or myself, but if Rafe is right, you'd seem to know a whole lot more about all this that you've let on to. And so, you'd be able to help Tallith not only find the answers she's looking for, but perhaps save her life as well,' I paused, but he just watched me, a shadow etched in the lights of his control panel.

'Neither I nor Rafe have mentioned this possible Fifth Shipmate to her, or your possible connection with those old days, and, I assure you, neither of us will do so voluntarily – without your permission. Truth be told, I'm not anxious for her to find those answers, at least not right away. I think it'd be best just to let them go, and with Rafe's help, disappear into the Unity's 900 billion. But... But that's not going to make orbit with her as things stand now. And, well, it's possible that in looking over the recovered logs and reading Rafe's summary, she'll discover the Fifth Shipmate on her own and either confront you, Rafe, or me about that. With that in mind, I'm wondering where you stand. Are you willing to help Min? Or will you help me somehow steer her away from danger? In any event, I want to emphasize that your secret is safe with Rafe and I. It's your choice how you wish to deal with this. You're an old shipmate and my first loyalty is to you, Dyn,' and I left it at that.

He sat in silence for what must have been a minute or more, and then, staring off into the darkness, he spoke.

'The shipmates kept their secret simply by not telling anyone,' he said at last in his quiet voice turning to me. 'At the beginning, when they needed his help, they – the three others – told Fen everything. You see, he was not originally part of the struggle the others were enmeshed in. He was brought into their secrets only because it was necessary for him to know. He was their pilot and navigator. He needed to know. But he also knew that the others would stop at nothing to preserve their secret. Stop at nothing. The rest of the crews never knew about the underlying dynamics of what was going on. As far as they knew, we were just drift traders with dealings with all sorts of ruthless people, and much of what went on was typical of such dealings. If you deal with pirates, you can expect to have to deal like pirates, if you get my drift.

'Anyway, the core conflict, the one that drove the shipmates, was always an internal affair. And however deadly the conflict was waged, both sides were in agreement that the essential secret had to be preserved, though the other side could never be certain the Shipmates would keep it. Which is why, I suppose, Min's parents were killed a half a century after giving up the fight. Their enemies could never be certain the secret would be kept.

'As for the secret they kept, well, it is one worth keeping; a gold mine for a few, a disaster from many, and for those involved, a secret of the utmost importance. Even as they fought fiercely and to the death, they'd all die rather than reveal the shared secret.

'And as I said, the crews of those ships – and the Lost Star was only one of the ships that the Shipmates sailed on – were often entangled in the fighting of those early days, but they were more or less innocent bystanders – hard cases, mind you – well paid smugglers, pirates or mercenaries, but they had no knowledge of what was really going on. And since the struggle, on the surface, anyway, was a familiar one to those involved, the real issues could remain unsuspected. But in the end, the four came to realize that they couldn't continue to fight head on, and needed to get lost before they could resume the fight. They got lost, and in the end, got old as well, and perhaps even wise, and the embers of passion cooled to grey ashes.'

He turned to look at me. 'So you see Wil, I've nothing to offer, except a warning. The secret leads to death. The more you know, the closer to death you stand. If you can keep Tallith from pursuing it, you'd be doing her a great favor. If I thought I could keep her from pursuing it, I'd try. But I know her pretty well, if only because I knew her parents very well. So if you can't convince her to drop the whole thing, I certainly wouldn't be able to either. And if I tried, I'd be putting myself in the position of either lying to her or defying her. I'd rather not find myself in that position.'

'Do you know their secret?' I asked quietly.

'Some, but not all of it. But I'm no different than anyone who does. I can't tell you. And really, if there's anyone who can discover it, it's likely Tallith, for I'm certain some provisions had been made to carry on the struggle, though what exactly they'd be, I couldn't say. But, you see, I was never interested in the struggle. I was only interested in Fen. Tallith will have to find her own way.'

I shrugged. 'I can't argue that. Hopefully with finding her own way comes wisdom as well. Still, I wanted to at least prepare you, should she find her way to you.'

'I appreciate that, Wil, but you needn't worry. If she should discover my shadow in the log, well, she'd have to find me if she wanted to learn more. And I'm hard to actually find, and even if she did, she'd learn no more about the Four Shipmates than you have. Still, I'd rather not have to avoid Tallith, so I'd appreciate it if you and Rafe kept this to yourselves. I'll stay in the shadows as I've always done,' he said, adding with a faint smile, 'I'm more of a shadow than anything else.'

I decided there was nothing to be gained by pressing him. I suppose I might've tried harder, but it's hard to pin something down with someone as evasive as Dyn. He's simply too nice to treat harshly and too closed up to get anything out of him without treating him harshly. On the other hand, knowing that he knows the secret, I had to believe that he'd steer us clear of danger should we find ourselves too close to the uncharted reefs of this secret conflict. And that was a comfort.

### Chapter 45 Day 71 It's A Small Nebula

The days have slipped by with hardly a mark. The drones went to pieces and then back together again shiny and new – the engineering workshop fabricating and replicating new parts for the drones while Rafe, Kie and Lili fabricated advanced sensor chips and control modules for them. And for the less mechanically inclined, we've refurbished several cabins and helped Dyn re-plumb some water and sanitary lines between the hulls as well.

Min never said anything more about the true log nor a fifth shipmate, and as far as I know, has yet to further explore either the qi or the fabric of what the Shipmates left behind. I'm certain she hasn't abandoned her plans, but seems to be taking a more relaxed and thoughtful approach to her search. Not that she has any choice at the moment. Zilantre will be the first test of what her future plans look like. I've no idea what they are.

Our relationship is cordial, but there are limits, likely for the best. We mostly talk ship business when alone, though with others, we can talk more about ourselves and our lives. I think the gang's come around to accepting that we're merely shipmates and partners in the operation of the ship. They had to see, on reflection, that we'd be fools to be lovers even if it were a possibility – as lovers, I'd look to be some sort of a knave and she, a fool. She was no fool.

We're fast approaching the Anjur Passage, a little more than half way to Zilantre. The passage is a thin section of the Helgot Drift, a vast shell of dust and asteroid reefs that half encircles the massive Ninth Star. Over the last 20,000 years, the passage has been cleared of all of the known large asteroids and meteors by the Patrol Navigation Section, allowing ships to traverse the drift at interstellar speeds.

Gas and dust are found everywhere in the Nine Star Nebula and the drifts are merely heavier concentrations laced with reefs – thick clusters of planet to fist sized rocks – and streams of rocks and thick clouds of dust. At low interplanetary speeds, the rocks and dust present a fairly minimal danger to navigation, especially if you've a chart. But at interstellar speeds, which greatly compresses distances and makes mostly empty space a whole lot denser, a ship, unless it has several far ranging drones ahead of it, runs the risk of finding itself unable to avoid a meteor stream and must chance running through it and risk striking a rock that can't be dodged or destroyed by the shipboard anti-meteor missiles. Without the Anjur Passage, we'd have to decelerate and pick our way through the drift, and accelerate again on the far side, using far more fuel and making the voyage significantly longer.

Because it's a fixed point of navigation between Azminn and Aticor, we were now encountering Azminn bound ships within radio range every couple of days. This evening I was sitting with most of the off duty and awake crew members listening to Illy, Lilm and Myes playing their strings and wind instruments with Riv occasionally singing rather risqué choruses, when I got a call on my com link. It was from Molaye on watch.

'We've got first contact with an approaching ship,' she said. 'Not in com range yet, but will be shortly.'

'Thank you Molaye. You can make the announcement.'

That announcement broke up the concert. Even with the approach to Anjur, contact with other ships are rare and fleeting and would be entirely absent on our Anjur to Zilantre run until we neared Zilantre itself. The crew hurried to the various radio rooms and I retired to my cabin where I called up the com panel on my desktop.

I stared at the screen with a start when the ship's ID code became readable, The Crimson Star of the TriStellar Line bound for Sanre-tay. Last time I heard from my sister, she was captain of the Crimson Star, though it was in an Aticor planetary run at the time. The official, and the unofficial gossip channels opened up as soon as radio signals reached us.

'Greetings Lost Star. Litang here, captain of the Crimson Star. You wouldn't happen to be the Lost Star of the Night Hawk Line by chance?' asked a voice and static laced image from the official channel, which I recognized even through the static of the connection as my sister, Celin Litang. 'And is Wil Litang still on board?'

'Aye, formerly of the Night Hawk Line. I'll connect you to Captain Litang...' said Molaye before I cut in.

'I have it Molaye,' I said grabbing the channel and switching it to a private connection. 'Celin, I can't believe we're meeting like this. It's indeed, a small universe!'

'Well met, Willy! It is wonderful to see even your fuzzy face this deep in the middle of nowhere, so far from your usual orbit. And was I hearing right, did she just say Captain Litang?' she exclaimed.

'Ah, yes she did. Captain Miccall died about a year ago. But what are you doing here, big sister? Last I heard you'd settled into a nice, steady Aticor planetary belt run.'

'Don't change the subject Willy. Tell me all, since this link won't last half an hour and you've more of a tale to tell than I have!' she exclaimed, adding, 'I'm going to need time to realize my little brother has grown up to be a ship captain, and decades ahead of the schedule you'd charted for me the last time we crossed orbits...'

Celin is twelve years older than me and has been a captain for almost two decades with the vast TriStellar line that runs liners in and between the Azminn, Aticor and Apier systems. She'd been mostly operating in the Aticor system for the last five years. The last time we'd been able to get together was seven years ago when her Azminn run ship was refitting and she was home on leave when the Lost Star happened to call on Faelrain.

We tried to catch up with as much as our news as possible in the short time we'd be able to punch through laser communications due to our combined velocities and the ionized shells about our ships. I gave her a brief account of my appointment and our current situation and she updated me on hers – she was bound for Sanre-tay for the same reason we were fleeing it – the collapse of trade in the Azminn system. The Crimson Star was a smaller ship than the usual TriStellar interstellar liner on that run, part of the adjustments the shipping companies were making due to the trade collapse. Our precious minutes flew by and too soon the static was taking her away from me. Over this static at the end, she promised to send a radio packet to Zilantre for me with suggested agents and prospects of work in the Aticor system. We wished each other fair orbits while we still had a signal and talked until it faded away.

### Chapter 46 Day 92 The Anjur Passage

We had entered the Anjur Passage five days ago, 87 days out of Sanre-tay orbit. The twisting passage is marked by a string of fifty-seven buoys. We needed to make frequent, subtle, but timely alterations in our course throughout the passage using our balancing rockets rather than the less powerful steering rockets. Using the array of eight balancing rockets to make course corrections is demanding and delicate work for both the pilot and the lookout who has to locate and chart the position of each buoy through the static and haze created by our passage through the dust and gas of the drift. It took us five days to thread our way through the Anjur narrows. There's always an element of danger in space travel, and traversing the Anjur passage certainly upped that danger level a notch or two, but it would be an exaggeration to call it dangerous. It just felt like it to this poor captain...

We passed two more ships in the passage, the last ships we'd likely come across until Zilantre, since we'd soon be leaving the Azminn – Aticor space lane to sail directly to Zilantre through the 40 au gap between the Helgot and Myzar Drifts. Still, we were farther away from Sanre-tay than we were from Zilantre, and after the timelessness of our passage to Anjur, we now began to look ahead.

Today, after clearing the last buoy, we worked on fitting out the exterior boat deck with a three-drone davit the engineering staff had built. With the two newest ones ready to deploy, we soon be sending two or even all three ahead. They were probably not needed, but we could use the experience in managing two or three leading drones at once.

### Chapter 47 Day 93 Engine Shutdown

01

I awoke with a start. To silence. Which wasn't right. I tried to get up and the hammock swung wildly. Free fall. That wasn't right either. I swung my legs down and managed to snag my slippers below the hammock and half flew, half stumbled for the starboard door-panel of my sleeping cabin. It opened directly onto the companionway, and grabbing the companionway's railing, I swung myself around the short stretch to the bridge.

'What's wrong?' I asked Molaye and Illy, Molaye perched over the engine room console.

'Emergency engine shutdown,' said Illy.

I touched my com link and called Lilm. 'What's up Chief?

'Hot spot shutdown for the main engine, Skipper,' Lilm answered laconically, adding. 'Not a false reading.'

'A breach?'

'Don't think so. Minor if any. Ten's having a look and Riv just flew by.'

'I'll be down.'

'Standard un-powered procedures,' I said to the watch and swung out. Illy, at least, knew what had happened. I'd no need to say more.

I stopped at my quarters to pull on old trousers and a rugged jersey and headed for the main well where I met Myes flying down the shaft. 'Hot spot?' he asked as I joined him.

'Main engine,' I said as we dived down the well. 'No breach, apparently.'

We shot past the engineering deck to the platform in the engine room. Myes swung off the platform and continued hand over hand down the steep ladders into the depths. I hurried over to the control platform to join Lilm who was leaning over the railing staring down along the length of the main rocket engine.

'What happened?'

She shrugged without looking up. 'Just a warning and an automatic shutdown. Don't know more than that. You'll have to ask the boys down there.'

'You don't mind if I go down to take a look?' As I've mentioned, the engineering staff does not encourage tourism in their department. It's best to ask their permission just to keep on their right side.

'Go ahead. I'm sure they're just standing around looking serious. Too hot to do anything for a couple of hours.'

'Thanks,' I said. As I headed for one of the spidery stairs running along the engine frame for the light thirty yards below, I saw Min arrive from the main access well. I paused to wait on her arrival. I gave her the word as we dove downward, pulling ourselves along using the ladder railings leading to the depths of the engine room.

The gang was hidden behind the bulge of the combustion chamber. I found Ten, Myes and Riv right at the bottom of the engine casing where it met the stern bulwark standing about in several directions as Lilm had predicted, looking very seriously at a discolored, semi-melted spot in the support patterns of the engine casing, perhaps 30 centimeters in diameter. Min and I joined them. Nobody said anything, so I decided I might as well ask.

'What are we looking at here, besides that dark spot in the casing,' I added in an effort to forestall any sarcastic replies.

'That's it, Skipper. A hot spot. A breach of the inner liner. The hole allowed a jet of hyper-hot plasma to leak and start melting the outer, D-Steel casing. More than that I can't say until the engine cools enough to send a service bot out to have a look at the rocket liner.'

'Can't be wear. We've decades of service left in this unit, right?'

'Should have. Seeing that it's only two meters into the nozzle, I'd say it's likely impact damage from some meteor that must have hit it when the engine was cold and pitted it badly enough that the plasma has now breached the inner liner,' said Riv, and squatting down and pointing, added, 'If that's all it is, we can deal with it in two watches, but here's what we're looking at – see how the discolored scar looks asymmetrical... And if you look closely, you can see some discoloring flaring out on either side? Here and here. And it's hot too,' he added as he traced a long line from the hot spot with his hand just above the surface. 'I won't know for certain until I can get a service bot into the bell to have a look, but I'm thinking the liner's fractured rather than just holed.'

'Damn,' I said.

'Damn, it is, Skipper, and just by the look and the heat, it's a major one. At least two meters long, maybe more,' Riv said, adding, 'A pin hole would be no problem. We'll just drill through the two layers of casing and plug it with a rivet patch we've on hand. This close to the end, it'll last for years. I've served on ships with engines so old and eroded that hot spots had to be plugged just about every time they were fired up. Had several when we brought the Lost Star across to Azminn half a century ago. Credits seemed a bit thin in the nebula in those days. But a fracture's a star of a different color. I've never had to deal with one myself, but fractures are very likely to spread and get nasty very fast. It's a good thing this was caught in time; we could've lost the stern of the ship if it had breached the outer casing.'

Damn, indeed. I stared at the discolored spot in the D-Steel casing along with the rest of them and glanced around at the grim faces staring at the spot silently. This was not good, not good at all.

I'll not go into too much detail, but briefly, a rocket engine is largely build with D-matter alloys, which are designed and built from the subatomic level up to create characteristics not found in naturally occurring elements. D-matter materials are a result of the ancient discovery that elementary particles were not pieces of matter but something analogous to small bits of code, a description of a function rather than an object. In the centuries that followed, a method of re-programming this cosmic code was developed. It involves using vast amounts of energy and rare elements at extremely high temperatures, but D-matter materials are now produced routinely, though because of the vast energy involved, on remote moons and in the drifts for safety.

The inner liner of a rocket engine is a 3 cm thick layer of one of these D-matter materials called D-matter radshield, or simply D-Rad. It's engineered to be impervious to the full spectrum of radiation from thermal to cosmic. It lines the rocket's combustion chamber preventing both the radiation and intense heat of the plasma drive from escaping. The same D-Rad alloy is also used to shield all the ship's atomic reactors and as a layer of the ship's hull as well. It is not, however, structurally strong enough to contain the pressures within the combustion chambers of the engine and so there's an outer casing made of D-matter steel, or D-Steel a super strong steel that is used in the outer casing to contain the intense pressure of combustion. A third D-matter alloy is used in the rocket engine – D-matter Therm or D-Therm – which is an alloy that absorbs and withstands temperatures several magnitudes beyond that which would turn ordinary matter into plasma and it is used to radiate the intense heat generated by atomic fission to achieve a nearly complete conversion of our hydrogen fuel into propulsion.

The small hole, and likely a crack, in the inner, D-rad liner allowed the intense hot plasma of combustion to reach and begin melting through the outer D-Steel casing. This is a known hazard and the outer casing is monitored with heat sensors, that had automatically shut down the engine before the plasma escaped. If the engine had not been shut down, the D-Steel outer casing would have ruptured, allowing a powerful jet of plasma to be released into the engine room under intense pressure, wreaking havoc on equipment and people, potentially destroying the ship as it vaporized everything it touched.

A pin hole can be mended aboard the ship by drilling out a small hole and securing a broad rivet-like D-Rad headed patch over the hole, but in the case of a fracture, it is rarely possible to get a large enough patch to securely cover the whole of the fracture to keep it from spreading. The standard remedy for a fracture is to cover the affected part of the engine with a large D-Rad ring – a second lining as it were – that allows a very generous margin of coverage to make sure that the plasma under great pressure and super-heat would not reach the fracture area under the patch. In this case, the entire bell of the engine would likely have to be have a second layer of D-Rad installed. It would be a fairly expensive repair, and we'd need a shipyard to do it.

'Damn,' I sighed yet again. I turned to Min, but she only shrugged. 'Nothing more to be learned staring at this. Send up your report once your bot has had a look. We'll need to know our options.'

'Right,' said Riv, with a nod to Min and me. 'If it's a fracture, there won't be many options. It's a shipyard for certain.'

'Then let's hope it's just a pin hole after all.'

'If wishing works, it will be. But I'd not hold my breath.'

Min and I turned away and hauled ourselves slowly up through the maze of platforms along the lines of steep stairways in silence. The good thing was that we were in no immediate danger.

'You're quiet. What are you thinking?' asked a somber Min as we reached the control platform.

'I'm trying to do the math in my head. I'm thinking we should have time to decelerate using the balancing engines and not end up deep in the Myzar Drift.'

Having just cleared the Anjur passage we had been using our main rocket to shape our course for Zilantre. We had another 24 hours of main engine burn left to make that course change. Then we would've coasted for 36 days before firing up the main rockets to begin our deceleration to match speeds with Zilantre.

'The balancing engines flat out can provide about 30% of the power of the main engine, so we'll need at least 70 additional days to decelerate and that'll extend our passage to at least 90 days from this point, putting us a bit over two weeks beyond our delivery deadline,' she replied. 'I think we can assume it's a fracture and that we're not only going to be paying the late delivery penalties, but the expense of relining the engine as well.'

I glanced aside. She was calm, but grim. I don't know her credit balance, nor did I know what a liner patch would cost...

'Our insurance will not cover the cost of repairing the liner – it's considered a consumable item, but we should be able to claim the delivery penalties, since I don't see how a meteor fracture could be considered negligence. It will, I suppose, take time to see those credits though. Still, I'd think that Zilantre as a gateway world to the deep drifts would have shipyards capable of repairing the liner. I'd imagine this type of damage happens fairly frequently in the drifts,' I said, as cheerfully as I could manage.

Reaching the bridge, I briefly relayed what had happened to the crew on watch, and Min and I retired to my office.

'Any idea what the repairs will run?' she asked.

I shook my head. 'I was a mere pilot during our last major refit and was on a long leave as well. I'll look in our logs and Guild estimate tables, but in the drifts, who knows what the going price is? We should be able to get by just re-plating the bell section, since it's a very common N33 standard engine.'

'Oh, I'm sure it can be fixed. But at what price? Delivering the boats late will put a big dent in our profits, so it's likely at least part of the repairs will have to come out of my contingency fund... which is not bottomless,' she added grimly.

'Still we've insurance to cover the delivery penalty, and two quarter boxes of trade goods that should bring in at least fifty thousand credits. We might have to dip into the contingency fund while we wait for the insurance credits, but I'm certain we'll get by.'

'Oh, we'll get by... this time. I just hate the thought of losing all those credits.'

'I don't see how that can be avoided. Still, it could have been a lot worse – we might have been in the long boat with a long voyage ahead of us or dead... As it stands now, it is not a matter of life or death, just credits.'

'My credits,' she said grimly.

'Your credits,' I agreed.

02

'A fracture,' Lilm said, as she, Myes and Tenry filed into my office (Riv had the watch), 'Runs close to three meters long.'

No surprise. 'I suppose we'd best see Min,' I sighed. I pinged her to see where she was, and then pinged Vynnia to join us as well. I rose to my feet. 'What do we need to do. Chief?'

'Get to a shipyard and reline the bell,' she replied tartly as we stepped out into the passageway and headed for the main access well to take us up to the owner's suite. 'Though Myes has a drifteer option.'

I looked to Myes, 'A better option?'

'A drifteer option. Let's just say another option. An old drifteer trick,' he replied.

'And what, would that... Oh, let's wait until we have Min in on this. This isn't going to be my decision anyway.'

Min and Vynnia were waiting for us in the companionway outside of Min's quarters, and after we'd filed into the small office and found a place to sit or perch, I asked Lilm to give her report.

'...so with the fracture running around the bell, and no more than three meters in, we might be able to get by relining only half of the bell. If we were in the planetary trade, with a day or two burns at a time, I'd say we could go with that. But with these long burns, well, it's an iffier call. A full bell reline would be my recommendation,' she concluded, adding, 'However Myes has suggested another approach. I've heard stories of it being done, but have no experience with it myself.'

'Myes?' asked Min, turning to him.

'Well, Tally,' said Myes, shuffling in his seat a little. 'I grew up and worked in the shipyards of Larvella in the Alantium Drift,' he began. 'They're little drift shipyards which devote most of their time salvaging and keeping wrecks of ships semi-space worthy. The deep drifts are pretty poor so even the most decrepit ships are kept operational until they no longer can hold air, and only then are they broken up for parts.

'One of the techniques we used to extend the life of a rocket engine with holes or fractured nozzle chambers – pretty common in the deep drifts – was to remount the engine so that the damaged part of the nozzle bell extended from the ship. Then we'd trim the nozzle to eliminate the fractured section. The profile of the bell, after having been cut down is, of course, less than optimal, but with the danger of fracturing removed, the engine could be reliably operated as usual.

'Now I must say that all the ships I've seen this done to were much smaller than the Lost Star. Small, drift traders mostly, but I'm thinking that in principle, it should work for a ship our size too. We're only looking at moving the engine some 4 meters down and trimming off the last 4 meters of the nozzle bell...'

'But can we do that in space? we don't have a shipyard handy,' I asked.

'Well, that's the question. We'd have to look into what it'd take to do it and make it work. Still, we have more than a month to detach the engine – reactors and all – from the mounting frame, move it down and reattach it. I don't think that would be a problem in free fall. Of course, that's just the beginning. We'd have to extend and jury-rig the fuel lines and controls again, and cut the nozzle down – service bots can do that while the other alterations are going on. And in the end, we'd have a rocket engine that would be perhaps 10% to 15% less efficient but could go on operating more or less as usual likely for years, if necessary. And there's no reason why we couldn't save the section we trim off, and when we wanted to re-plate the bell, bolt it back on and move the engine forward again when the credits are available.'

'So what you're saying Myes, is that we could – if we're willing to accept a less powerful engine – fix the problem in transit and in time to use the engines to decelerate on schedule and make our delivery deadlines,' asked Min, leaning forward over her desk.

'In theory. We'd have to chart the whole process out to see what would need doing, if we could do it, and how long it'd take before I'd say yes. Even if possible, it might be too iffy to try it in transit. We could just wait until we're in Zilantre orbit, where we'd have the resources of a shipyard to call on if needed.'

I glanced at Lilm and Tenry. 'What do you two have to say about this idea?'

'Oh, it works,' said Tenry, 'I've seen it done in smaller craft anyway, and it should, in theory, work on a ship of any size as well. But I can't say I've ever heard of it being done on a ship like ours. Ships our size are worth the expense of re-plating. And you're crippling the ship's engine and will have a higher fuel bill because of it. So it has some serious downsides.'

'So at this point you're not all in on this idea,' I asked. The engineers would stick together once they settled things amongst themselves, but they hadn't yet, so I wanted to get each individual's opinion now, if I could.

Tenry shrugged, 'Do we need to be?'

'I'm not entirely sold on the idea either, Skipper,' admitted Lilm. 'In part because we haven't had the time to look into it. I'm sure there's a hundred big and little things involved in moving the whole engine and reactors that we haven't had time to consider yet. And I'm not sure we've the resources. Myes is talking about a shipyard operation.'

'By resources do you mean things like tools, extra piping, wiring and such, or hands to do the job?'

'All that. I'd have to examine the ship's support structure to make certain that can even be done, and as Myes said, there's all the fuel pipes and controls that would need to be extended, fuel line supports and the injector module remounted... and, well, the list goes on,' replied Lilm. 'We can manufacture the extra piping, and jury-rig the mountings and such, nothing beyond our expertise, but we'd have to have everything working within 35 days with no margin of error. Run into something unexpected, and well, we'll be in the drifts beyond Zilantre before we've killed our velocity. We're going to have to look very closely at everything involved in the operation before we can give you a definite answer.'

'Ten?'

'As I said, I've seen some pretty jury-rigged engine rooms in my time, so I'm certain it's possible, Skipper. But on a ship this size... well it's not the way we did things in the Patrol.'

I turned to Vynnia. 'Anything to add Vyn?'

'Speaking without knowledge of Tally's credit balance, I'd say that since we can make it to Zilantre on our balancing rockets, late, but reliably so, we might want to consider long and hard about making such a semi-permanent adjustment to the ship. In orbit we can price out our options and if this still seems viable, we can go for it.'

Thank you, Vyn, I said to myself. That was pretty much my opinion too, but she saved me from having to say it.

'Can it be done while under power? If you work while we're decelerating using balancing engines, we'd not be taking the big chance, save the trimming down of the nozzle to the last when we're certain it'll work, and depending on when we start and how aggressive we are about decelerating with the balancing rockets, we might be able to make our schedule...'

'That would make the work harder just because we'd be looking after the balancing engines at the same time' said Lilm. 'Plus, we'd have to set up and work from a lot of scaffolding which would make the work more time consuming. Perhaps in the final stages it wouldn't matter as much.'

I glanced at Min and gave her a Your call look.

She swatted it back with a look and a shrug. 'What do you think, Wil?

'I'm thinking along the same lines as Vyn, on this one.' I had rather hoped to avoid sounding like cautious old Captain Crofter, but well, I had to be honest too, though I did add, 'I'm willing to be convinced, but it'll take a solid, unanimously agreed on plan from our engineers.'

'Right. Still it sounds like it's worth looking into,' said Min. 'But we'll need to see a detailed outline of every step you'd have to take and how long it would take you to accomplish each step. We need to be certain of success since we'll be digging ourselves a hole in the deep drifts if we hold off decelerating only to find out it won't work. Take the time over the next few days to go over every little detail. We'll resume our course change using the balancing rockets and that'll now take us the better part of four days, and we won't need to start decelerating with them if we go that route for a few days after that – so you have time to go over the whole idea very carefully.'

After the engineers had left, Min, Vynnia, and I sat about talking over our various options. Owners and captains have slightly different priorities. My first priority was getting the ship to orbit safely. Repair costs were not my direct providence and I didn't know Min's credit balance. Our trade goods should provide immediate credits if needed, and the insurance down the line would cover our loss for missing the delivery date, so I didn't view the situation as a dire crisis requiring desperate measures. I was happy to see that Vynnia was taking the same, safest, course I'd prefer, but except for voicing my support of Vynnia's caution, I kept my personal opinion to myself as much as possible. Vynnia, I was certain, could get away with being a lot more direct than I, so I'd let her push the sure and safer course, especially since I knew enough about Min to suspect that she's wouldn't shy away from taking a chance to deliver the boats on schedule despite our misfortune. It would be a coup, and could establish a very useful reputation for the Lost Star.

I suppose, in the end, my luck had to run out sometime. We'd been pretty lucky, and were lucky even now. We could be in the small boats with several months of travel ahead of us. Or we could be dead. We'll see what the engineers come up with.

### Chapter 48 Day 94 Engine Room Conversation

The ship felt different. Oh, nothing was out of place – it was the same tiny world I've lived in for sixteen years, but it wasn't quite the same either. The difference was subtle, and mostly in my head, but as I made my rounds late in the 5th watch, I could sense it. We had resumed our course change with only our balancing rockets, and the sound of only those rockets, at full power, was something out of my usual orbit, a sound I'd never heard before – we rarely ran them at anything more than minimum, even when maneuvering in the Anjur Passage. The ship under their power alone sounded different, tinnier, and each engine contributed its own voice to the subtle vibration and muffled roar. And then too, the pseudo-gravity was unfamiliar, the eight engines did not produce our familiar standard acceleration.

And then there was the uncertainty. We were in no immediate danger, and should be in none. If we stuck with only the balancing rockets we'd fail to meet our promised delivery dates. And while that was a result of the known hazards of space travel, it still felt like a failure on my part – and on the ship's as well. I'd always counted on the Lost Star to be absolutely reliable, and this incident had shaken that assumption. You can never be absolutely certain of anything in space. It's one thing to know that, another to feel it. I'd come to take it for granted that it was a certainty, so I found it all rather unnerving.

Other than the engines, the ship was quiet. Being under power, we operated with the full three-person watch, and except for the engine room crew, the others, not on watch, had retired for the night. I quickly made my way through the upper decks, and down to the engine room where I knew I'd find some shipmates at work.

Riv had the watch on the control platform and Lilm, who'd be standing the next watch was beside him. Myes was on a platform in the depths of the engine room below, intently studying the main engine.

I nodded as I crossed the catwalk from the main access well to the control center.

'How's it looking?' I asked over the multi-voiced roar of the eight smaller rockets.

Riv shrugged, 'Well, Skipper, so far we've not come up with anything that would rule it out. But we'll need to take a much closer look at it once we're done with engines.'

'We'll have almost a week before we'll need to begin decelerating, so take your time and devise a step-by-step plan. It is, as far as I'm concerned, plan B. Though it won't be my decision,' I added.

'You're thinking Talley will go for the delivery date...' grinned Riv.

'I don't know. Vyn feels like I do, better to do it by the book. Better the unfortunate, but necessary delay rather than the uncertainty of an unproven fix. If we ran into a fatal hitch at the end of the process, we'd end up deep in the drifts and it would take months to dig ourselves back out and to Zilantre with just our balancing rockets alone.'

'Aye, but pushing them at full power for 70 some days is not going to be a picnic, either,' said Riv.

'They'll last, won't they?' I asked, somewhat alarmed.

'Aye,' replied Lilm, 'they'll last. They're designed to run at full power for tens of thousands of hours. It's a matter of changing their set ways. They've always run at 10-12% power, and usually only for several days at a time. To ask them to run full out for the better part of two thousand hours is a big change in their usual pattern and when you change a set pattern, you get a lot of little things going wrong, pumps, fuel lines and injectors, sensors and such. Nothing we can't handle.'

'But we'll be nursing them and holding their hands the whole way,' added Riv with a grin. 'There'd be no rest for the wicked.'

I considered that and said, 'Just between old shipmates, would you care to tackle moving the main engine assuming you discover no major hitches in the plan, or just stick with the balancing rockets? It'll be between Min and me if comes down to that, so you needn't worry about getting involved. I just want to get a feeling about how much resistance should I put up if she chooses to gamble on the main engine.'

Lilm glanced at Riv and back to me. 'It'd give us something to brag about.'

I nodded. That was what I was afraid of. And they'd make an epic of it.

### Chapter 49 Day 99 The Decision

'Have you looked over the final engineering proposal?' Min asked, looking into the bistro as I was brewing a cup of cha. We'd completed our course change two days ago and were now on course for Zilantre.

'Several times. And I've had them walk me thorough the whole procedure in the engine room as well.'

'Then we're ready to discuss it. Any objection to doing it now?'

'Now's the time. I've my cha and the sooner our plans are settled, the more comfortable I'll feel.'

'Right. My office is the closest,' she replied, so I grabbed my mug and followed her down a deck to the owner's suite.

She settled behind the broad desk and I on a chair before it.

'So Captain, I believe now is your golden time to advise caution,' she said, with a faint smile.

'I believe Vyn has already made that point,' I replied cautiously. 'I'm here for orders.'

'Oh, come now, That's a very cowardly reply.'

I shrugged. Min kept her feelings well hidden, but still, I had a pretty good idea that the decision was already made, and saw no point in committing myself one way or the other. 'It's your decision. I can tell you what I'd do if you weren't aboard...'

'If you hadn't had me drugged and shanghaied,' she interjected, but without any malice behind it.

'If I hadn't decided to enforce my Guild contracts,' I agreed, with a smile.

'Oh, all right. What would you do if I wasn't aboard.'

'I wouldn't gamble with your ship. Our insurance will eventually cover the delivery penalties, so all I'd be facing is the expense of relining the bell. The decision on how to proceed with that project, whether our current credit balance and the proceeds of the sale of trade goods would cover the standard repair, or whether we'd proceed with cutting the bell down would depend on prices, and a radio packet from you.'

'So you think making the repairs now is a gamble, even after having been walked through the whole process.'

'I'm saying that the downside of failure would've been too much of a gamble for me to take without consulting you. If we delay deceleration and we find a fatal flaw in the project, we could end up spending several months clawing our way back to Zilantre, and that's turning a blind eye into any issues we might have to deal with 20 aus deep into the Myzar Drift. On the other hand, running two weeks over schedule, is easy to justify by the events. A fractured engine lining is a known hazard and we took the prudent course to insure as timely a delivery as possible under the circumstances. A two-month delay is a lot iffier. We'd have clearly made the wrong decision which resulted in a serious delay of the boats needed for the safety of mining crews,' I said, adding, 'I know Vyn's gone over this with you already, so I'm here for my orders. I'll see that whatever you decide gets done and works.'

'You think I'm going to go with Myes' plan?' she asked watching me.

'Yes.'

'And you're not comfortable with that?'

'I wouldn't say that. It should work. It's only the downside of failure that gives me pause. Still, I won't be able to say I told you so, if we should try it and fail.'

'I'd hope not, since you're being so evasive.'

'I'm not. You know where I stand. I'm simply avoiding a pointless argument. My engineers have assured me they can do it, so I'm comfortable with either course. More so with one than with another, but comfortable enough with both that I see no reason to argue. Give me my orders.'

'Well, Captain, that being the case, I see no reason why we shouldn't give Myes' plan a go. The way I see it, we can fall back on the balancing rockets at any point in the process. I think delivering the cargo on time in the face of adversity, would be just what we need to make our mark in a new trade system, making it worth the risk,' she said, adding, 'I'm not someone who gives up easily.'

'No, you're not. I'll get the gang working directly,' I replied, standing. 'I know they're eager to get going – they've come to view this as a challenge, something they'll be able to yarn about for the rest of their lives.'

'And, just to be clear here, you've promised that if this falls into a black hole, you're not going to say I told you so,' she added with a slight smile.

'Well, yes, though if we find ourselves deep in the Myzar Drift and ten seconds away from making a small impact crater in a large drift asteroid that we couldn't avoid, I may be at least thinking, Next time she might want to listen to me,' I said and gave her a grin and a sketchy salute. I wasn't feeling quite so cocky, however.

### Chapter 50 Day 131 Uneasy Watches

I started my evening inspection of the ship in the engine room. I ventured only as far as the control platform. Ten meters below Riv, Lili and Tenry were installing the last of the newly fabricated fuel pipes. I didn't feel the need to see more and they didn't need to see me. I make a point these days to steer well clear of my engineering staff whenever possible. They're not pleasant company. And they don't like seeing me.

Today – according to our original course profile – was the day we'd have begun our deceleration for Zilantre with the main engine. Earlier today, when I asked Riv when we'd be able to begin testing that engine, I gathered from his imprecise and brief snarls that it'd still be at least four or five days more, depending on how soon the (deleted) service bots finished the job of severing the fractured four meter after section of the rocket nozzle from the engine. Working with D-matter is never easy, and cutting the inner D-Rad lining of the nozzle with a circular saw, had been a (deleted) job from the beginning...

The bright side is – that with the exception of how long it's been taking – everything has gone more or less as planned. Everything suggests that when the work is finally finished, the main rocket engine should be available for full use. The remaining four or five days (taken with a grain of salt) of the project would burn through our built-in delivery time leeway and we'd need to aggressively use our balancing rockets to augment the breaking power of the main engine to make our deadline, but we'd still be using them less than if we'd chosen to rely on them alone. So beneath all the crew's weariness and ill temper, there was a solid base for optimism that the gamble will pay off.

I won't catalog all the delays of the last thirty some days – I don't have the time – so I'll just use the process of moving the engine as a typical example of the type of friction that has pushed our schedule back by several weeks.

Engines wear out faster than ships, so ships and engines are designed to make replacing them a fairly simple process. Both engine housing fixture and engines are standardized, designed to accept a series of appropriate engines which are slipped into the ship's engine housing like a cartridge. The engines have ribs along the outside casing which fit into slots in the ship's engine fixture. Both are perforated with holes used for bolting the engine in place. To move the engine down, these securing bolts had to be removed. A shipyard has specialized robots and tools designed to do this task efficiently. We had to make do with spanners and general service bots which required much more time and supervision. Much more than the engineers seemed to have budgeted for, though in fairness, they never had done anything on this scale before, which they were quick to point out, but still...

In addition to unbolting the rocket engine, all the various fuel and cooling pipes, pumps and controlling machinery connected to it had to be disconnected (and eventually relocated) as well.

Once freed, moving the massive, 40x10 meter engine down was not, in theory, a particularly challenging project. Since an object in motion tends to stay in motion, we merely had to slightly accelerate the ship to leave the freed engine behind. Before doing that, we attached cables to it so it had only a slight amount of free travel and ever so slightly accelerated the ship which had the effect of dropping the engine down until brought up by the cable. The problem was that there's just enough clearance in the slots between the engine and the ship to allow the engine to twist enough out of true – holes on one side would align while on the other side they would not quite align. We had a great deal of fiddling to do using the cables to get the engine perfectly true. (The engine, when installed properly, is set hard up against a massive circular harness under the control deck at the very top of the fixture, so this probably was not a big problem in a shipyard install.)

Adding to the friction, is the fact that moving the engine down meant that the whole engine room had to be in hard vacuum because the bulkhead sealing the engine room where engine meets the stern bulkhead is part of the engine, so moving it down, broke that seal. A new bulkhead had to be built, but not until the engine was in place, so that the work of moving and aligning the engine had to done in space suits, which, as a general rule, means everything takes at least twice as long as working without one. And all the little delays of suiting up, and moving materials into and out of the engine room through an airlock add up.

We've the on board facilities and skills to design and print the parts we needed to make the changes, things like a new sealing bulkhead for the engine or the extensions to all the pipes. However, the size of our tempering furnace limits objects to two meters, so that many of the new parts had to be designed, printed and assembled in multiple pieces. And in addition, we did not carry enough of raw steel blanks on board to construct all the additional fuel lines, so we had to stage scavenger hunts through the ship and the ship's holds to gather enough inessential steel items to melt down and be printed into the parts we needed. Ideally these extensions would have been D-Steel, but we could not work with D-matter with our on board machines. And since most of this extra material had to be stripped from the ship's holds, we had to go outside the ship to get at it, since the holds are not accessible from the crew section. And because of our velocity and the density of the space we were traveling through, we had to suit up in our armored space suits – which are more like manned mini-boats – to go outside the ship. Working with these large space suits was slow, tedious – and apparently non-budgeted – work.

The end result was that even with the whole crew working on the project around the clock, all of these friction points in the process caused the project to fall behind schedule. It didn't take more than a week to see that the engineers' original time line wasn't going to happen. I just had to go with the flow. Not that I'd a choice. Engineers can be a pretty snarly bunch even in the best of times if outsiders – even ship captains – poke their noses too deeply into the affairs of the engine room. And when things start going awry, even looking at them can set them to barking and growling. I steer clear of them whenever I can these days. I won't admit to being actually intimidated by them – it's just that there's no point making enemies – they know what needs be done and are working as fast as they can to do it, so nothing I can say or do will help matters. It's just good diplomacy for me stay on the control platform and not linger long...

I caught sight of what I thought was movement in the corner of my eye and turned to see who was coming down the main access well. There was nobody there. Just shadows. I stared at that complex pattern of shadows created by the ship's ribs, pipes, and equipment and nothing moved. Again. But nevertheless, I felt something was there.

I was beginning to get spooked.

This was not the first time in the last day or two that I've found myself turning to greet somebody only to find no one around. This was not the first time I felt that I wasn't alone, but was. This was not the first time I wondered if I was being driven down the dark hole by worry and stress – though I don't feel any more stressed than I have been since taking command. I was resigned to whatever the Dark Neb had in store for us, we'd make the delivery deadline or not. It wasn't my choice. And we were doing all we could to make it work. I wasn't any more worn and stressed than everyone else aboard, and yet, I was seeing things move out of the corner of my eyes and feeling a presence on the nape of my neck that not only wasn't there, but couldn't be, as well.

Stories about unknown and unwanted visitors to ships in space are as old as Terra itself. We've no doubt thousands of them in the ship's library in words and vid. I've read and viewed my fair share of them. And while most of them are "galactic fiction" – stories set outside the nebula in fictional star ships and such, there are hundreds of stories set – more or less – in real ships that ply the Nine Star Nebula as well. The problem for writers, as well as real people, is that it's extremely hard to get aboard a ship undetected without the aid of someone on board. Successful pirates – if they actually exist outside of the deep drifts, and only if you believe the old spaceer yarns – are said to be able to find ways of doing it. Somehow. But aboard a ship that takes all the prudent precautions, as we do, I don't see how it'd be possible. Neb, the environmental system would detect and return an error if someone unaccounted for was aboard drawing un-budgeted resources. And seeing that we're more than four months into a voyage, I can't imagine how any intruder could've avoided detection for so long or why the intruder would be active now. The alternative, that the intruder had come on board in passage, is impossible. The ship is sealed tight and traveling in empty space at millions of kilometers an hour. Any breach of the airlocks or hull would set off alarms. Which left only the supernatural.

I didn't want to accept the supernatural, though being no more superstitious than your average spaceer, it's sometimes hard not to accept the supernatural, sometimes. Space can be rather eerie.

The only possibility, as far as I could see, was from the two quarter boxes we had up in no. 4 hold. They'd been packed and sealed by a bonded expediter, and the seals on containers are designed to be impossible to alter without leaving a telltale, so I felt the risk was slight, but not impossible. Still, if I'm not imagining the whole thing – and I'm certain I am – the boxes would be the only avenue of unauthorized entrance to the ship. I decided I needed to check the seals on the boxes just to rule them out.

I made my way upwards through the ship. It was quiet. Outside of the watch on the bridge and the crew in the engine room, everyone else had retired to their cabins, so the decks were empty, save for Illy, who was, as usual at this time, reading on the awning deck before retiring. I stopped to chat with her for several minutes and swung up for no. 4 hold.

As I may have mentioned, no. 4 hold can be spooky even without seeing things moving in the corner of your eye. The shadows seemed to move about in no. 4 hold all the time. So I wasn't keenly looking forward to this last stop on my tour. Of course I could turn on the lights. But you can't let imagination carry you away. Still...

Still, I managed to pass the light switch in the companion way and stepped into the semi-gloom of the hold, lit only by half a dozen dim safety lights set in the bulkheads. I stood and took my usual survey of the hold. I'd go over and check the seals of the two containers in the far corner, and the locks of the strong rooms, and...

And the shadows moved.

They flew from above and behind me. I may have yelped.

The Neb-blasted cats. The cats that are usually content to silently watch me from the shadows of the mezzanine. They had launched themselves and were landing at my feet. And meowing and looking up at me, milling about my feet. Rubbing against my boots.

I didn't know what to make of it for several moments. I just stared down at them. There were a lot of them, but were enough alike that I couldn't keep them straight enough to count. But suddenly they were very friendly, almost pleading, happy for my company, so I bent down and asked them what was going on.

'Meow,' pretty much summed up their answer, but they not only let me pet them, but crawled up on me to look me in the eyes and tell me directly, 'Meow'. This degree of friendliness was unprecedented in the no. 4 hold's tribe of cats. They've never, in the sixteen years I've been aboard, paid attention to anyone, unless Dyn in secret. Dyn is our official director of animal management, but I doubt that even he did little more than manage the population reproduction and make sure their automatic food and recycled food disposal units were in proper working order. And yet now, I seemed to be their best friend in the whole Nine Star Nebula. What, indeed, was going on?

After a while, I stood up and made my way to the quarter boxes, trailing a stream of cats. Using both my com link and my eyes, I inspected the seals on both boxes – neither showed any evidence of tampering. I slipped through my escorting cats and sat down in the shadows by the lockers and benches we've set up in the corner where we kept the various athletic gear and toys. The cats kept me company, both sides attempting to communicate, and succeeding only on a basic level – we were all more comfortable together than alone. I can't say hold no. 4 was any more eerie than I usually found it and with the company, even a bit less than usual. As long as I didn't think about why the cats were acting the way they were. Which I tried not to.

Eventually, I was tired enough to sleep, so stood, said good night to the cats and made my way to the access well. They followed me to the well meowing. And I thought they might follow me down as well, but no. They gathered around the edge of the well and watched me descend to the bridge deck, and on to my room.

I made a note to have Dyn see that the no. 4 hold cat's food and recycling systems were working properly, on the theory that was the most likely and least eerie explanation for the cat's behavior.

As much as I appreciated the companionship of cats, I hope that is the explanation.

### Chapter 51 Day 132 On the Edge

'I need three mumble-garble more bloody meters of mumble-garble power line...' growled Riv, loud in the speaker of my armored space suit.

Riv was working with Min in the main rocket nozzle, setting up the plasma cutter to finish the job of cutting free the bell's after section, which explained the garbled passages of his request.

I was in a large egg shaped space suit – which smelled pretty sour until I got used to it – anchored on the edge of the starboard engine room access lock with the coiled power line next to me. 'Was that three meters?' I asked, just to annoy him, as I went about manipulating the suit's mechanical arms to unwind the required three meters.

'Three meters. Make it four,' he snapped.

Kie in his bright yellow space suit was stationed right aft where the hull angled sharply for the ship's stern and the ten-meter-wide bell nozzle that now extended from it. He hauled the heavy and wavy line as I unwound it and fed it to Min stationed on the rim of the rocket's bell. He didn't say much, preferring not to offer himself as a target of Riv's ill temper. However, since our owner was working alongside, Riv had to mumble his most colorful adjectives mostly to himself.

We'd finished cutting the inner liner four hours ago and were now, finally, setting up the plasma cutter to cut through the outer D-Steel casing. The inner lining of D-Rad liner is impervious to the intense heat the plasma cutter projected and so had to be cut with a circular saw. With that done, we could use the plasma cutter to cut through the outer D-Steel casing. We were, however, making our cut in the center of one of the circling support ribs, so that the process would still take the better part of three days to complete – if all went as planned. The bell could be cut at a thinner section of the casing faster, but by doing it this way, we'll end up with a flange on both sections that we'll use to bolt the sections back together when we're ready to re-plate the bell and restore the engine to its proper form. Riv was setting up a service bot to follow the groove in the inner lining and rigging a harness for the heavy wire line to keep it from dragging the service bot off course.

After unwinding the required section of wire, I'd nothing more to do than wait for the next request and stare about me. Of course the sight was a familiar one, seen in many view-panels over many years, but there's a certain awesome intimacy when you view the Nine Star Nebula directly through the clear dome of a space suit while clinging to the hull of your ship. You really feel it. The intense solitude. The absolute silence. The illusion of emptiness. And this time, the fact that it seemed that something was looking over my shoulder. My unseen companions had not gone away.

I awoke today to find that the feeling of being watched was even stronger than it had been yesterday. It seemed with me all the time now, back there just at the very edge of my awareness. I tracked down Dyn, who assured me that all our pet systems were in operational order. I asked him why the cats acted the way they did, and he gave me a look and a vague answer, that boiled down to, cats – who knows? And walked away.

It's hard to say if other people were feeling the same way, since not only is my view colored by what I'm feeling, but we've all been under a great deal of pressure and work to get the makeshift repairs of the engine done against the looming deadline. Still, it seemed to me that everyone was a little more on edge, and either more unsocial, or more social than normal. And I didn't want to ask anyone outright and then have to explain why since it had to be in my head anyway. Plus, it'd likely undermine the crew's confidence in me, which I didn't think was warranted just yet. I didn't think I was down the dark hole – on the edge, maybe, but not down it.

I could hear over the suit's radio Riv giving instructions to Min, but paid little attention to it. Instead I studied our glowing wake, the whirls and swirls of glowing ionized gasses, their subtle colors streaming behind us. Beyond, the glowing nebula and the ragged black fingers of the dust and rocky drifts that held the glowing nebula's faint light as if it was shining through a vast, half closed, fist. The wake of our passage was brighter ahead and astern. Ahead, because the ship's shock wave of captured gas and dust was being pushed through the extremely thin gas and dust atmosphere of the nebula, and it streamed behind us as a wake of ionized gas and dust. The electromagnetic shell created by the ionized gas and dust that surrounds the ship was almost too faint to see. Working out here, one hoped that the shell was just strong enough to deflect any bit of the nebula that was big enough to put a hole through this armored suit. At this speed, it wouldn't have to be too big. The hazards of the trade.

We spent another half an hour outside once Riv got the plasma cutter going to watch how it worked to make certain he'd not have to come out here again an hour later, as was often the case with the circular saw. I secured the power line in the air lock and we returned to the ship via the starboard boat deck airlock.

The rest of the day was spent checking all the engine systems – fuel and coolant lines, control lines, and auxiliary equipment – to make certain everything had been reconnected, and reconnected properly. Everyone seemed short and sharp when speaking, but stayed mostly silent, if only not to be short and sharp. I, like everyone else, was looking forward to being under power again, and hopefully reliably so. Failure would not be pretty on several levels.

I kept busy, just to keep from constantly looking over my shoulder, and forced myself to make my usual, bottom to top, tour of the ship before retiring.

The cats must have posted a look out, since I was hardly in the companionway before they were streaming around my feel. We were still pals. I checked the locks on the strong room and the telltales on the containers, and headed for the bench against the bulkhead to commiserate with my feline friends. We were talking back and forth, when someone – not one of the cats – asked 'Who are you talking to?'

We all jumped, like a little wave hitting the shore and I looked up to see Min silhouetted in the light of the companionway.

'Scare us half to death, will you Min,' I exclaimed, adding, 'I was just talking to my new feline friends.'

'Talking to what?' she asked as she walked rather hesitantly towards us.

'You do see the cats, don't you?' I asked, suddenly wary.

'Oh, yes, I see cats.'

'Well, that's good.'

'Is it, Captain?'

'Well, it's better than the alternative. Join us, won't you? It's liberty hall here, right mates?'

I cleared some cats out of the way to give Min a place to sit, and with a look I couldn't make out in the gloom, she settled down beside me. The cats didn't mind. It was, after all, liberty hall, and they climbed aboard her as well as me.

'What's this all about?'

'Neb knows,' I replied, brushing a cat tail away from my nose. 'I've been their best friend since yesterday when I stopped in on my nightly rounds. They jumped down from the mezzanine and clustered around like they're doing now. Makes you sort of wonder if something is, well, upsetting them,' I added. I wasn't certain of what I wanted to say to Min about my own issues, but it wouldn't hurt to at least dance around it and see where it leads.

'What would be upsetting the cats?' she asked and with a glance towards me, added, 'Have they told you?'

'They may have, but I don't understand cat,' I replied lightly. 'But then, this behavior is rather unprecedented, so you have to wonder what has brought it on...'

'Maybe you just smell different, more attractive. To cats.'

'I rather doubt it's that.' Well, I suppose she needed to be given a hint. If I was going down the dark hole, she'd need to act. 'The thing is that I've been feeling that something's wrong. I can't quite put my finger on it, but it seems as if there's, well, something aboard that wasn't before... Which I know isn't possible, but still... You don't happen to have some sort of intuitive feeling like that too, do you?'

'I can't say I do. What exactly do you think is aboard?'

'I don't know. That's the point. It's just a vague feeling, and the impression that things are moving at the corner of my eyes, though there's nothing there when I look. And well, it seems like the whole atmosphere of the ship has changed, everyone seems more on edge and wary. I don't want to read too much into that – everyone is worn down from getting the engine moved and all, but still, I'm not certain that's the whole of it...'

'Have you asked anyone about it?'

'No. You're the first person I've mentioned this to. And only because I think giving you a warning that I might be going down the dark hole is the responsible thing to do.'

'Are you going down the dark hole? Have you visited the medic bay? Do I need to be concerned?' she asked.

'Well, given these irrational fears I'm entertaining, I have to wonder. I'm aware of the impossibility of something being on board, and can deal with it, but well, if things get worse, you'll have to act. I've dropped by the medic bay and it returned nothing but a slightly elevated level of stress, which is understandable. So I don't know. As I said, I'm mentioning it now to you just in case I slipped deeper into whatever it is that's happening to me.'

She considered that in silence for some time, absently petting the two cats on her lap.

'But you're still able to function normally now?'

'Oh yes. I'm not that far gone. It's just that if it continues to grow worse, there may come a day that you'd probably better put me in a sleeper-pod to be sorted out later.'

'You'll keep me informed?'

'Oh, yes. Of course.'

'Right, then. Have you finished communing with your new friends?'

'Yes, we can go.'

As before, the cats followed us to the access well, and seemed upset to see us go. Min and I had little to say after that, and I retired to my cabin.

Hopefully I did the right thing in telling Min. Hopefully I'm not going down the dark hole. But, why did I just glance at the shadows in the corner of my cabin?

### Chapter 52 Day 133 The Ghosts of the Drift

01

I awoke to find myself in a strange ship. My quarters had grown, extending into shadows and seemed different in ways I couldn't quite pin down. Still groggy from sleep, I searched rather helplessly for something solidly familiar but found everything vague and different. I tried to get out of my hammock, but I couldn't seem to manage it. Were we under power? I didn't hear the engines... Someone or something, moved in the remote shadows of the room. I struggled to get out of the hammock, my heart pounding, which woke me up enough to realize I was dreaming, and with an effort tore myself out of the dream.

My heart was still pounding when I swung out of my hammock and slipped into my slippers on the deck. The room was dark and quiet, but familiar. I'd apparently not undressed before falling asleep, so I decided to look in on the bridge before cleaning up. I stepped into my office. There was someone at my desk. He swung around as I entered.

'Ah, Litang. Still captain, but not for long. I meant to give the Lost Star to Seni Shir,' said Hawker Vinden. 'She'd earned it, you know.'

'Yes,' I had to agree. It was true. 'That's what we all thought. But you died before the Lost Star made it to Calissant, and well, Seni got the Comet King when Jann bought his own ship'

'So I hear, so I hear. Just as well. You might serve my purposes even better,' he added thoughtfully. 'Yes, Litang, you might...'

Warning bells were jangling in the back of my mind telling me this wasn't right. It struck me that Vinden wasn't my owner any longer. Hawker Vinden was dead. This had to be a dream. I had to still be dreaming, and with that realization, and an almost physical wrench, and an audible yell, I hauled myself into the waking world once again. I lay in the hammock, heart pounding, breathing hard, a brassy taste in my mouth, and carefully surveyed my familiar surroundings. Nothing seemed out of place, everything seemed solid. Real. Right. I cautiously swung out, slipped on my slippers. I looked into my office. It was empty, and I made my way to the shower to wash the nightmares away and made a mug of cha to wash the brassy taste out of my mouth. It was not a good start to the day.

The day got somewhat better, but the shadows still moved in the corner of my eyes and I still had that vague feeling that we were no longer alone in space. Everyone was either very quiet or on edge, a sharp response never very far off. Even discounting my feelings, it was clear something was wrong aboard the ship. I could only hope that once we were under power again, it would cure itself...

Work on the engine is winding down. We're now mostly test running sub-sections of the engine/control/pump system while we waited for the service bot to complete the trimming of nozzle bell. Judging from the progress the bot has made to date, that job should be completed in two days, on day 135, four days beyond our original scheduled deceleration date. After we had stored the severed section in the hold, we'd still several days to slowly work the engine up to full power, to make certain every system was working properly and reliably, which would put us further behind. Still, assuming we found no great problems, we could, with the aggressive use of balancing rockets to augment the main rocket, still make our delivery deadline. But it would be close.

I was tired by the time the 5th watch was drawing to a close and I was ready to make my final rounds of the ship. Little details and tasks had filled my day, keeping whatever it is that's weighing on me more or less at bay, save for the odd moment or two. I wasn't exactly looking forward to the inspection, but I'd feel a whole lot worse if I gave it a miss. And well, I wasn't so eager for sleep either, so I stepped out of my office and headed down.

The engineering workshop is the deck below bridge deck and contains the engineers' workshop and parts cage, plus the storage lockers for perishables and other sundry supplies. It also houses Dyn's environmental office and control center, the culture vat and the mechanical section of the moss garden. I looked into the workshop and Dyn's office. Both were dark and quiet as work was winding down on the engine. I checked the locks on the storage lockers and the large service airlock. Everything was in order, save that the shadows seemed darker and more animated, as soon as I turned away. I resisted the urge to look back.

I was growing rather alarmed, not about the shadows themselves, but about me. My imagination seemed to be running wild. For no reason. I knew there was nothing to my sense of unease, the ship was a sealed world, and so I should be able to easily dismiss it. But. But it wasn't easy, and that seemed inexplicable. I could only hope it'd pass.

Rafe and Kie were working on the engine room control platform, reinstalling the extended wiring from the moved engine and injector mods. I stopped to talk for a few minutes, but not wanting to delay them, I made my way down into the depths of the engine room. There were shadows aplenty in the depths, and I wasn't about to let myself become afraid of them. Since we were still in free fall, I drifted down and around a complex array of machinery using the spider web of ladders and platforms to pull and push and weave my way deeper, leaving the brightly lit control platform behind.

I didn't see him at first. Thinking back, I probably smelled him before I saw him. It was the aroma of strong spirits that caught my attention.

He was lounging in the shadows on one of the ribs between two of the steering rockets, barely visible in the low ambient light from overhead. He wore a jumpsuit, dirty and open to the waist to show an equally dirty shirt. His face was half hidden by a large drooping mustache.

He grinned and raised a large globe of whiskey and offered this toast, 'To fast orbits,' he toasted, adding with a wink and a leer, 'And fast women.'

I stared at him, closed my eyes hoping that when I opened them, I'd just see a dark shadow.

He was grinning at me when I opened them again. 'Not that easy, mate'

'Who are you? What are you? What are you doing here?' I whispered.

'Now where are your manners? No how do ye do? No grand to see ya mate?' he chided me. 'But allow me to introduce myself. I'm...'

'Glen Colin.'

'Him in person,' he grinned. 'My fame has proceeded me. Why, I'm blushing...' He took a pull from the globe. 'And you be?'

'I'm dreaming. That's what I am.'

'Well, lad, one of us may be dream'n, but I don't think it's you...'

'So this is what it's like down the dark hole,' I said, fighting the swelling tide of panic sweeping up from my guts. 'It's come to this.'

'Oh, don't be so dramatic. You're in a bit of darkness, I suspect, but not of my doing. So who do I have the pleasure of conversing with?'

'Wil Litang. Captain Litang...'

'Cap'n are you? Where's ol'Fen?'

'Miccall died a year and a half ago now...'

'Ah...'

'What did you mean about being in a bit of darkness?'

He shrugged and grinned. 'Just a guess, lad. But I suspect you'll know soon enough.'

If I my orbit had lead down the dark hole, I might as well go with it. There seemed no divergent course. Best face it. 'What are you? Why are you here? Or rather why am I seeing you?' I asked.

'One question at a time. I need to keep my wits about me,' he said and took a sip. 'What am I? Why I'm an ol'spaceer. Nothing more, or at least nothing much more. An ol'spaceer with a talent, perhaps. Sometimes I can visit me old ship now an' again when I get in a state, this way and that. Spent enough time down in this ol'hole, I did. Easy enough to find my way home. Just come to visit, Cap'n. No harm in that...'

'How?'

He shrugged. 'Mystery to me. As far as I know, you're in my dream.'

'Then where are you?'

'Don't rightly know,' he said with a puzzled shake of his head. And taking another pull on his globe, added, 'You're making my head hurt with all your questions. I'm here now, aren't I and talk'n to you? Let's keep it that simple.'

'Alright. So why are you here?'

'Old time's sake, I suppose. As I said, I spent many a voyage as nursemaid to these old engines, which, by and by, brings me around to the point that's been puzzling me. You've got a mighty curious rig, Cap'n,' he said, using his globe to point to the main engine looming behind me, visible through the catwalks and platforms. 'That's a new one for the old Lark.'

'A fracture in the nozzle bell about three meters in. We decided to trim it off and get by without it,' I replied to my delusion.

'Ah, the ol'drifteer game, eh? A rather bold measure for a ship this size, I must say. Short of credits, are we? Though I never knew Vinden to be short of credits, except when it came time for pay'n wages.'

'Vinden is dead too. His niece, Tallith Min is our owner now. And I don't know her credit balance....'

'The Hawk dead? Oh my, life does go on, doesn't it?' he said and took a long, thoughtful draw on the drinking tube. 'Did they catch up to them?'

It occurred to me that Glen Colin – whatever he was – might know some things I might like to know as well, so I replied, 'Not that we can tell. Heart failure and a needle rocket explosion. But the Mins were killed in a space boat crash with a dead man at the helm...

'Purser and Pilot dead as well... Well, take it from ol'Glen Colin, Cap'n, the only sure way of escaping your enemies is by outliving them... But you're too young to have enemies. So now you've a new owner and are having to raze an engine to get by.'

'I wouldn't say that. We're bound for Zilantre with a scheduled delivery to keep and big penalties if we don't. The liner fractured while we were shaping our course after Anjur so it was either a long burn with only our balancing engines which would give us no chance of making the delivery on schedule, or this. Our engineers said this would not only work well enough to get us to Zilantre on schedule, but could be a semi-permanent solution until we could afford to get the bell relined.'

'Ah, back to running the drifts, are we. That makes a difference...' he muttered, and studied the engine with another long draw on his globe. 'Still, it's a bold move. Never heard of it being done on a ship this size. I've only seen it done on small ships with engines smaller than those balancing ones of yours. And they only run slow.'

'Still, it should work in principle. Shouldn't it?'

He grinned, 'You took your chance and you're going to find out.'

'Aye, though to be perfectly honest, it was the owner who made the call. I'd have gone with using the balancing engines alone,' I admitted, adding, since I might as well get everyone's opinion, even a ghost's, 'Think we're fool to try it?'

He considered that question for quite a while, pondering the engine and taking several pulls on his globe. Finally, he said, 'Well, Cap'n, I guess I don't see why it shouldn't, but I'd not push her very hard. No, not very hard at all. At least not the way she's set up now.'

'Why?'

'Well, I'm a bit leery of that saddle extension. It seems a bit frail to me.'

'We ran sims and it's built to take the load,' I said glancing up at it. As I may have mentioned, the top of the engine ends in a nest of beams under the control platform called the saddle, which carries the thrust of the engine up through the structure of the ship. Moving the engine down meant that we had to construct a four meter extension to the saddle, basically a series of beams that spanned the space between the real saddle and the part of the engine that would have been flush against it.

'Oh, I'm sure the sim and your engineers have it right, according to spec. But well, I've run some razed engines in my day, and I have to say, they take some handling. Even the little ones. You wouldn't think taking a little slice of the exhaust nozzle off would make much of a difference, but I have to tell you, it does. You get vortexes and flow issues that'll rattle the engine this way to Sirius. And when you consider that you've got less bolts holding the engine in place, I'm certain you can imagine that there'll be stress points in the system as the engine bucks with an uneven thrust. Bust a few bolts, get the head of the engine a little off center, and if your saddle extension has a bit of flex and give to it.... well, things could get a bit wild in short order. You could find yourself on the bridge sitting on the engine head and it could get pretty drafty down here in the engine room, if you get my thrust... Of course, with enough Dew of Dunagan,' he lifted his globe, 'you can do most anything. But I'm thinking you'll need a lot to get you through a razed engine and a long burn without having to worry about finding the bloody engine in your lap.'

'I know there was some discussion about making it more substantial, but there was a question of time and materials...'

'If I was you, Cap'n I'd find the material and the time to build a more substantial extension of the saddle down to the engine. I'd make it three times spec just to be on the safe side. And even then, I'd be pretty reluctant to use that old jet at full power, least ways until you know how it bucks. But as I said, you can rely on the Dew here to see you through. Enough of the Dew and you've not a worry in the Neb.'

I stared up at the towering engine housing, half hidden beyond the catwalks and platforms.

'If I see that it is strengthened, will it get us to Zilantre?'

'How many hours of burn are you looking at?'

'Something over 500 hours. We'll be using the balancing rockets hard as well.'

He shook his head. 'I'm rather fond of this ship, Cap'n. You see that it's strengthened, and lean on the balancing rocket hard. And I'd still advise you to take a dollop or two of Dunagan's as well.'

I nodded. 'Right.' At least my illusion wasn't talking nonsense. 'Of course over ruling my engineers in their engine room and getting my engineers to make the changes might be a problem...'

'You're the cap'n, aren't you?'

'Aye, and you're an engineer. So what do you think?'

He grinned. 'Oh, we follow orders, Cap'n. We must, you know. Guild rules. We just don't have to like'em. And don't have to keep our traps closed about not liking 'em either.'

'Right,' I said, grimly. 'And they don't.'

'Aye. You can tell'em Glen Colin advised it.'

'You think that'll do it, do you?'

He grinned. 'Oh, they'll think you're mad. But trust me, they'll not be able to come up with a reason not to do it. Tell them little engines in little ships buck. I don't see why a big engine won't buck as well. And buck hard. Allow the engine to get even a wee bit off kilter, and you're in big trouble.

'I've got a lot of years of my life invested in this old girl of yours. Don't want to lose her. And even with the saddle extension strengthened, you'll have to handle her with a light touch. Hope you've got competent pilots, because you'll be finding that not only will the engines be finicky but the ship will feel different as well on account of the engine being moved aft. All the computer programs are going to be off because of the change of balance and that'll mean making all sorts of manual adjustments. The little old ships the drifteers do this to, are usually run pretty much manually anyway...'

'Seems you know a lot about all this...'

'Oh, I've been around. I've managed drifteer ships with all sorts of crazy hacks. And I kept this old girl running between the planets for more than a century. Off and on, mind you so there ain't much I don't know about this ship, or rockets in general. Trust me...'

'Trust you? What are you, a ghost, a delusion, a hallucination? '

'Oh, make it a ghost if ya like. It ain't exactly accurate, but it'll do well enough.' and raising his globe, 'To your health and mine,' he took another long draw, smacked his lips and added, 'Ah. I doubt Dew of Dunagan is available to the real dead. But hope never dies... Fair orbits Cap'n!'

'Wait, I've got more questions...'

He just grinned and faded to deep shadow. Only the aroma of the Dew of Dunagan remained behind.

I should've hurried to the medic bay, gotten some sort of anti-hallucinatory treatment and retired to my hammock. But instead, after staring at the shadows for a few moments deep in thought, I slowly made my way up through the engine room, absently continued my inspection of the two crew decks and wandered into the bistro to make myself a mug of cha with the intention of getting my chaotic thoughts in some sort of order.

02

To my surprise, I'd found a creeping sense of an unwarranted relief in the whole episode, which made me both wary, and comfortable at the same time. whatever Glen Colin was – the phenomena seemed part of the shifting shadows and that sense of something being aboard that had been haunting me these last several days. Clinging to a ghost is not within a light year of being a rational explanation, but old Glen Colin was a character out of the Four Shipmate's yarns. I'd always believed those yarns were complete fiction, but I now... Well, if the Shipmates themselves saw the ghost of Glen Colin, going so far as to claim he'd stand a watch in the engine room on occasion, that would make what I just experienced not that much out of the ordinary – for the Lost Star. Something to cling to.

Min was brewing a mug of cha in the bistro when I entered. She looked up, 'Captain,' she greeted me with a nod. (Using my title kept a certain formal distance that she seemed to think necessary.)

'Tallith,' I replied absently.

'Is everything all right? You look like you've seen a ghost,' she asked, watching me closely, as she had since our conversation last evening in no. 4 hold.

'I have, in fact. I just ran into Glen Colin in the engine room, complete with his globe of Dew of Dunagan and whiskey aroma. Draw your own conclusions as to my sanity, because I can't.'

'You just saw Glen Colin, the ghost...' she asked, now watching me with growing alarm.

'Had a conversation with him, actually. He's rather leery of our saddle extension. He says that our cut down engine will run a lot rougher, something about eddies and vortexes in the flow causing unbalances in the output which will put additional strain on the securing bolts, of which there are now less of since we moved it down. He thinks any flex or give in the saddle extension could cascade into something dangerous,' I replied, calmly filling my mug with a spoonful of leaves. 'I know getting advice from a ghost sounds completely insane, and perhaps I am, but well, the Four Shipmates claimed to have dealings with the ghost of Glen Colin as well, so I may be no more insane than they were. I guess it's your call...'

'Are you feeling quite right, Wil?'

'You know how I'm feeling. I'm feeling something's wrong, but I can't say for certain if it's me or something outside of me... I believe I'm still in control, but well...' I trailed off with a shrug, and filled my mug with boiling water. 'But Glen Colin was real enough in his own way, and he talked sense, so I'm actually feeling saner than I have for a while. What the engineers think of me when I mention the saddle extension issue is another story.'

'Excuse me, I didn't mean to listen in, but...'

Min and I turned to find Lilm standing just outside the bistro bay.

'But I think I can offer an explanation for what I think you're experiencing.'

'I'd certainly welcome one, Lilm. Though I can't imagine what it could be.'

'What you're experiencing is a known phenomenon, common in the Canjar drifts. I recognized its touch four or five days ago, but I didn't dare to say anything until I knew the worst could not be avoided – didn't want to come off as a hysterical old lady. But now that I know it isn't just me, I guess I'm going to need to act. I suspect others are dealing with similar issues.'

'Like what?' asked Min. 'I'm not seeing ghosts.'

'Neither is Riv,' she replied. 'It affects some people more than others. Don't know why. It's been many years since I felt the touch of wyrm weather. I know I'm pretty sensitive to it, so I wasn't sure anyone else was feeling it.'

'Wyrm weather?'

'Have you ever heard of dream dragons or dreaming dragons?'

'They're one of the legion of mythical dragons in spaceer yarns. Like the one with the silver asteroid sized egg that Uncle Hawk claimed put that long dent in the hull.'

'Well, there are those dragons, and there are the real ones. The real ones are likely just natural phenomena personified. I prefer the term wyrm weather rather than dream dragon. The scientist who studied the phenomena called it a singularity. But perhaps I'd best start at the beginning...

'Please,' I said. 'I haven't heard of dream dragons, but I've heard a lot of stories about drift dragons. I've always taken them as old spaceer yarns. Something out of the unbelievable file of Four Shipmate tales.'

'As you know, I'm drift born, and went to space in the drifts, the Canjar Drifts, to be precise. There's a lot of weirdness in the Canjar. Seems to be a cosmic stress point of some sort. Anyway, this type of singularity is quite common in the Canjar and nearly impossible to avoid. We referred to it as wyrm weather when we sailed through it. I assure you it does exist, and was real enough for the Unity to have spent several thousand years investigating the phenomena, only to decide twenty thousand years ago, it might be better if it didn't exist, after all. They marked the known singularities as uncharted, dangerous on the charts and simply rerouted the space lanes around these singularities. But even outside the deep drifts, the old stories lived on as a fantastic feature of spaceer yarns. And yes, they can be dismissed as spinning a little dark drift space sickness into a supernatural tale, but, as I'm sure you realize, Captain, it's not quite the same.'

'Well, I'm not sure just what I realize. That's part of my problem... What exactly are we facing? What can we expect. And what can we do about it?'

'If you look up wyrm weather or dream dragons in the oldest versions of Vinsong's Practical Guide to Ship Management, or Pengrove's The Ship Master's Guide, you'll find they treat the subject as undocumented phenomena, semi-myths, but nevertheless offer concrete advice on how to deal with it. I'll get to what they say, and how we dealt with it in the Canjar in a minute. But first, let me tell you what I know about wyrm weather.

'The experience made me curious enough to search all the accounts of the phenomena I could find right back to the original Unity surveys. They're still available, you just have to dig very deep into the Unity archives to find them. You know the Unity. Certainty is the Unity's ideal. Anything or anyone, that is unpredictable or unknown is pushed to the moons and drifts, or in this case, deeply buried in scientific reports with obscure titles.

'Anyway, the Unity sent scientific expeditions out to investigate the phenomena throughout the first twenty thousand years of its existence. They came up with various theories about what they called a singularity. One was that it was a result of a corruption of the cosmic code that allowed things to happen which couldn't have happened with uncorrupted code. The fractal universe school of thought explained the singularities as sections of the fractal universe that've been either damaged or mutated into strange configurations that allows unconscious ideas to take semi-forms. Multi-universe scientists suggested that the singularities are spots where our universe touches another one and the interface of these two universes allows limited interaction between the two.

'Oh, they had theories enough, but they could never prove any of them, and so, after thousands of years of fruitless scientific investigations, the Unity officials decided just to turn a blind eye to the phenomena. All the research was filed deep in the archives and officially forgotten and as I said, all the known singularities in Unity space were marked uncharted and dangerous on the charts and the space lanes bent to avoid them. However, the deep drifts – beyond Unity surveys, these singularities remained on our routes and charts, and in the Canjar, at least, nearly impossible to avoid, though we stick to the fringes whenever possible. Most deep drifteers, especially if they ply the Canjar, have experienced wyrm weather, whose yarns based on their experiences have been woven into the mythology of the drifts, sometimes taking the form of one of the various mysterious dragons that are said to live in and on the nebula. In this case, dream dragons. The story is in most of those tall tales that when you get too close to a dream dragon, you're either drawn into their dreams, or they wake up and enter your mind.'

'But you don't believe it's really a creature, do you?' asked Min.

'No. But then, nobody knows just what it is. But whatever it is, the effects are real. It affects some people, like Wil here, or myself, more than others. We can experience strong waking dreams or hallucinations. Most people just get an uncomfortable sense of an unseen presence, the feeling of things moving just beneath the surface of their awareness.'

'That's it. Is it dangerous? Can it take control of a person?'

'We considered it mostly harmless – of course we knew what it was when we felt it. In mild cases the symptoms can be easily treated. In the more sensitive people, dreams take on a semblance of reality. You can see and hear them, perhaps even feel them. They may not seem to be your dreams at all – they can sometimes be the memories or dreams of your shipmates as well, which makes them seem so strange since you don't know their source. Some are very different, some are familiar. We dealt with this on a regular basis sailing the Canjar and when you experience it often enough, it becomes familiar enough not to matter much. On the ships I served on, we often had regular phantom visitors every time we crossed certain wyrm weather sectors. And we did try to keep to the fringes of them.'

'Like Glen Colin.'

'Aye, and sometimes the visitors could be seen by more than just one person.'

'Still, I'm not sure wyrm weather is any more explainable than a ghost,' I muttered. 'They're almost the same thing...'

'It's still a known effect. Some of the finest minds of the Unity found it real enough to study it for a thousand years. And at least everyone knows what it is we're dealing with, and that it is mostly unpleasant, but harmless...'

'So why isn't this wyrm weather singularity on the charts marked uncharted and dangerous?' asked Min. 'We're in Unity space, and far from the first ship to sail from Azminn to Zilantre.'

'Since we're well off the optimal track on account of our main engine shutdown we're in un-surveyed space. Earlier ships either missed it or just briefly skirted an edge of it. We're likely the first to ever sail through this particular stretch of the Nebula, and so likely the first to sail through the full effects of this singularity.'

I nodded. It made sense. 'From your experience, what can we expect going forward?'

'I can't say for certain. At our speed this must be a massive singularity for its effects to have been felt for five days. I think, however, it may be peaking. Seeing Glen Colin as vividly as you did suggests we're near the center. Still it'll likely be four or five more days before we're clear.'

'If I'm seeing Glen Colin, what might others be experiencing? And could I or anyone else be a danger to the ship?'

'Oh, the visions are usually harmless if you know what it is that's causing it. Because I'm both very sensitive and have had a great deal of experience dealing with the effects, it's hard for me to judge how intensely others, especially others who've never experienced it before, are dealing with it. I've never known a wyrm dream to actually take control of a spaceer. And once you know what you're dealing with, you can usually discount its effects, taking your Glen Colins with a grain of salt. Still, I know of some spaceers who get so entangled in them that they prefer to sleep in a sleeper-pod until the ship is out of the weather while others, like Riv, and, I gather, Talley here, don't feel anything at all. I suppose it's possible that someone might do something under the influence of the wyrm weather to endanger the ship. You hear third hand yarns of that, though I've never known it to happen. Still, ships do disappear in space and drift dragons are often blamed. If a ship's lost with all hands, there's no one to say how it happened. The best way to deal with it, if I might be so bold, is to first make certain everyone aboard knows what's going on and if necessary, send anyone to the med-bay for treatments to dull the effects of the visions if they feel it necessary. The ship should be secure enough to counter any sort of unusual action on the part of a crew member, but I suppose it wouldn't hurt to be extra vigilant.'

'Will they believe me?'

She shrugged. 'If they're experiencing the phenomena, I think they'll welcome an explanation. I'll provide you with the Unity studies of the phenomena that you can make available to everyone. You can send all the data out as a memo for all to read. Those affected should find the explanation reassuring. The rest don't need to believe.'

'I suppose, though I'm not looking forward to the skeptics...'

'I suspect that most everyone is feeling its effects to one degree or another. Trust me, your explanation will be welcomed.'

'And what can be done to mitigate the effects?'

'Spending the duration in a sleeper-pod works for some people, but others have such vivid dreams that cure may be worse than the disease. The med-bay can provide some anti-anxiety meds if necessary. Mostly just knowing what's going on is enough. Think of the yarns they'll be able to spin...'

'Aye, there's that... Forward me the files you have and I'll send out a memo right away,' I said, adding with a nod to Min, 'With your permission, of course.'

'By all means, Captain. Thank you Lilm, I can see it's already put Wil here more at ease.'

03

I lingered over my cha, reviewing my encounter with Glen Colin, and the days leading up to it. Putting a name and assigning a reason for my feelings had, indeed, made me feel much better about things. I did, however, have one decision to make – what to do about the engine saddle extension. Do I take the advice of a wyrm weather hallucination and order it strengthened, or just forget about it? I'm not more superstitious than the next spaceer, but I'd a strong feeling that I shouldn't ignore a ghost's warning. But I could sleep on it.

It was into the sixth watch by the time I'd composed and sent out the memo, so I debated giving no. 4 hold a miss this time. But I felt a certain loyalty to my new feline friends – and a superstitious need to complete the ritual – so I decided to go back up and finish my rounds.

I found that knowing what was causing my unease only went only so far to ease it. By the time I swung out into the dim short passageway between the two strong rooms, I needed to take a deep breath and remind myself that those dark currents were a known phenomenon. Everything was so quiet, but I could almost my heart beating. I assured myself it was effects of the singularity, but still... I'd just glance in and retreat to my quarters.

I hadn't taken more than a few steps into the companionway between the two strong rooms when was a subtle rustling of cats scampering along the deck and bulkheads to greet me. It seemed like dozens of them, though I counted only seven swirling around my feet meowing their greeting when the rush had subsided. Still you know how quantum our cats are. And yes, in the dimness, they were all grey.

I crouched down and greeted them. They climbed aboard and pressed close. I assured them it was just wyrm weather and that it'd pass... (probably along with their friendship). It was nothing to worry about. After a minute or two, I disengaged myself from the gaggle of cats and rose to make a quick inspection of the hold despite the protests of my new feline friends. I stepped into the large dim space and turning to my left, noted a thin shaft of light on the deck. I stepped further into the hold and turning, saw that the sliver of light was shooting from a thin crack in the strong room doorway. The door should have been locked. Only Min, Illy and I had the master key that opened it. Mine was in my pocket.

My first, and indeed, only thought was that Min had decided not to retire, but to do some more research into her inheritance. I stepped quietly over to it, cats about my feet, and slowly pulled the heavy door open and stepped in.

The strong room is a long, narrow space lined with strong boxes set in the bulkhead with a large safe at the far end. The bulk of the open space is piled to the ceiling with crates and boxes secured tightly with cargo nets to keep them from shifting about during maneuvers and free fall. In them, as far as I know, are the abandoned possessions of former crew members. There's a narrow twisting path between these moldering piles to reach the big safe at the far end. The source of the light lay further in, beyond the first turn in the piles.

I was about to call out, but paused and decided, perhaps not, and even briefly debated whether I should look in at all. But in the end, I very carefully and quietly, pushed ahead, careful not to step on the cats who insisted on accompanying me. I was surprised to find Dyn sitting on a low pile dimly lit by a small lantern near the big safe at the far end. He looked up as I stepped out of the shadowed passage.

'Wil.' he said quietly, 'I was waiting for you. I was almost ready to signal you.'

'Evening Dyn,' I said carefully, adding 'Why are you waiting for me here?' Never mind how you got in...

I was, however, greatly relieved when my feline escorts leaped to surround and greet Dyn. I trusted them to know what was right and what was wrong and what was a wyrm weather phenomena and what was not.

'Oh, I know you make your nightly rounds, and well, what I needed and what I need to do is best done here, and now.'

He seemed just as quiet and sane as ever, but there was wyrm weather to consider.

'How'd you get in. I though only Min, Illy and I had the key?'

He smiled faintly and shook his head a little. 'I know this ship very well, no one knows it better. And Fen, of course, trusted me.'

I nodded. Of course.

'Why are you here? And why are you waiting for me?' I asked carefully, looking at him and the cats that were now swirling around both of us, unconcerned.

'It's time for me to go, Wil. There's no longer anything aboard this ship for me, and it has been that way for some time now. I really need to get away and I intend to go tonight, as strange as that may seem to you.'

'Go away? You don't mean die?' I asked quietly, with growing alarm. 'I'm sure we can help, all of us... It's the wyrm weather...'

'No, I don't mean going away like that. Indeed, I intend to live a whole life, to take full breaths again. Something I can't do here, aboard ship, anymore.'

'I don't understand, Dyn. There is no other place for you to go. At least until we reach Zilantre. But why leave? You're amongst friends and shipmates of decades. I know we can't replace Captain Miccall, but we're still family. Your family. If there is anything you need, you need only ask.'

'Thank you, Wil, but I simply can't stay aboard any longer. It's torture. This singularity is my only opportunity to escape and I intend to take it.'

'Ah, you know about the singularity, the wyrm weather. I've just found out about it. How did you know, and what does it have to do with escaping? I'm off the charts here.'

He lifted up a small thick rectangle covered in what appeared to be worn and stained red leather. 'Do you know what book this is?'

'I haven't a clue,' I said, not even knowing it was a book.

'It's Captain vey'Cline's Travel Book of Faylyen.'

I stared hard at what he held up for me to see. 'It actually exists?' I whispered. And then, why not? Anything seems to go these days.

'Yes, and like vey'Cline, I'm going to use it to travel to Faylyen. We, Fen and I, always knew about it, but it never worked, not for travel anyway. So we put it away and all but forgot about it. But when I began to feel the first touch of the wyrm weather, it occurred to me that perhaps there was an aspect of the original story that has been lost in the telling of the yarn over the years. Knowing well how things become insubstantial in wyrm weather – in all our travels, Fen and I and the Shipmates, occasionally encountered wyrm weather so I knew what was happening – I got to wondering if vey'Cline had disappeared in wyrm weather and that aspect of the story was lost in the retelling. We never had time to think about it in the old days – we'd more pressing concerns than the Travel Book of Faylyen.

'It's different now. I've had too much time to think. So when I felt the touch of the wyrm several days ago it struck me that the travel which the Travel Book of Faylyen seemed to promise might be fully realized when wyrm weather had lowered the barriers to the impossible. Perhaps, wyrm weather would make more than just a dream-like visit possible, it might make actual travel possible. And if so, it offered a promise of escape, so I brought it out and began to explore it...' he paused to stare off into space.

I was frightened. Dyn may have been a rather strange recluse, but he was always grounded in reality. He was always sane. I didn't know if I wanted him to be sane now or not...

'Wil, from the pages of this book I've visited the most beautiful, the most wonderful world. Cities too beautiful to be in the Nine Star Nebula. There are millions of stars in Faylyen's sky. The deeper we've sailed into the wyrm weather, the more intense I've been able to experience them. I've felt the gentle sea breeze on my face looking out over the harbor of Tsillot, I've felt the warmth of the sun walking along the broad strand of Jaltortha Street while surrounded by the most beautiful people... And I know I can reach them – now – while we're in the singularity. And so, I'm going to Faylyen. I want warmth, I want beauty, I want stars in the sky. I need to go away. I've seen my ability to reach Faylyen grow as we approach the heart of the wyrm and I know now all I have to do is to let go of here and now, and I'll travel to Faylyen the way vey'Cline did, and I'll be able to stay there as well. We've reached the heart of the wyrm and now's the time to take my leave of the Lost Star and the Nine Star Nebula.'

I watched him carefully. His grief was too powerful, his personality too closed to find easy relief within our little society. And yet, he never left the ship if he could help it. We were all he had. The book couldn't take him away... 'You don't like planets, Dyn,' I said with a faint smile to hide my alarm. 'I know it's hard for you aboard, with all your memories. But all your friends and everything you know is here. I'm sure you'll find release from your grief in time. But it takes time – don't get discouraged.'

He shook his head slowly. 'Thank you, but no. I can't stay. I've found a way out. I'm bound for Faylyen. In a few minutes I'll be gone, but I have a few things to take care of before I go. That's why I was waiting for you to come around.'

I drew a careful breath, thinking. Fruitlessly thinking.

'First Wil, when I'm gone, please replace the book in the number 33 safe here for safe keeping. Here is the key to the safe,' he said bringing out a gold ring.

I hesitated, but stepped forward, extending my hand. He placed the heavy ring in my palm.

'Why this is Captain Miccall's ring!' I exclaimed, recognizing the heavy gold band with a dull black jewel set deeply into it. 'Surely you can't give me this?'

He shook his head. 'I'm leaving all behind. It is now yours, Wil. Only this ring will open the safe. But it's more. It's the key to the Lost Star as well. It will keep the ship safe from some of the dangers of the human worlds. Turn it over... You see the little opening inside the ring under the jewel? Look at the jewel from the inside of the ring.'

I held up the ring and looked closely at the small opening in the gold band under the jewel. Holding it up to my eye, I gasped... It was almost like I was physically drawn into the deepest, clearest well of dark light, intricate arrays of colors against a black background too rich, too intense, to be real, and yet not glaring. Felt more than seen. I tore my gaze from its depths.

'What in the Neb is it, Dyn?'

'A darq gem.'

'A darq gem? Darq gems really exist?' I gasped. I'd always thought that they were just another myth of the Nebula. An object so rare that only the richest First Worlder could afford one. Why if this is a real darq gem it could buy the Lost Star a ten times over. Is this really? How? Why? I glanced again at the little opening in the ring's inner surface and fell into its depths again. So I ripped my gaze from it again. 'What is going on, Dyn? This must be a trick of the singularity.'

He shook his head. 'It's no illusion. It's a darq gem. They do exist, though how Fen came to have one is a secret I can't share. The outer jewel is just a crystal carbon case to hide the gem's true identity. It's not a big gem, but it's a true darq gem and it's now yours. It was Fen's, mine and now it's yours. I believe I know you well enough to be comfortable turning it over to you. Fen always said that he kept it to protect the ship. It was always Fen's star in his hand should he or his ship strike a reef and credits could save it.'

'But it's yours now... I can't take this.'

'It's the Lost Star's really. I won't need it where I'm going. I'm putting this life behind me. I hope you never need to use it, but it will always on hand ready to save the ship and your shipmates if things ever drifted too deep for any other measure. You're the captain now, so that's your job, Wil. So it's yours, no strings attached. My advice is keep it very secret, secret the way Fen and the Shipmates did, by telling no one at all. Should it become known, your life may not be worth the gold in the ring. But, don't let its credit value be a burden. It's nothing more than a stone. Really, it won't solve most problems. It just gave Fen peace of mind. If you find yourself worrying about it, toss it out the lock. Sometimes things like that attract the worst in the Nebula. Don't risk that. But I think if you just put it away, like the Travel Book, it will not be a burden.'

'But I shouldn't have it. Min should. The ship is hers after all,' I protested, frightened despite his assurances.

He shook his head sadly. 'She has different priorities, Wil. Someday, when the time is right, you can turn it over to her. But for now, it's yours. Keep the ring and the ship.'

'I've made other arrangements as well,' he continued. 'I've made a vid describing what I'm about to do, and I've given Tallith and my shipmates access to my credit accounts. However, they're in the Calissant credit bank, so it may take some time before they can be accessed.

'I hate to leave you now, Wil. If there was any other way, I'd stay and see things through to Zilantre. But I must go now in the wyrm's heart. Within minutes, really. I'm certain you'll find a way to survive our current problem without recourse to using the ring. It should not be beyond yours and Talley's talents if you work together.'

'I'm sure we will. But really, Dyn...'

'Right,' he said, breaking in. 'I've almost said everything I needed to say and I'm not changing my mind. I've divided my few personal possessions and placed the packages in my cabin. And as I said, I've also prepared a short vid goodbye and explanation of what I'm about to do,' he paused and added with a faint shrug and a smile, 'Otherwise it might have been awkward if it ever come to be known you have Fen's ring without some sort of explanation of how it may have come to you and what became of me. It should eliminate any hint of suspicion, and you'll never need to mention this meeting.'

It took a moment. 'I'd hardly think...' But if Dyn did, somehow, disappear without a trace and I ended up with a ring he was known to have and cherish, it might indeed raise questions in my shipmates' minds.

He nodded. 'Just so. I'd best be going. Fair orbits, Wil. Fair orbits to my shipmates. Replace the book. Perhaps it will be useful to someone else some day...' and with that, he opened the small, battered book.

He gave me a fleeting smile, looked down for a moment, smiled, and the book was just floating above the bare packing case he'd been sitting on, twisting a little rush of air that replaced Dyn. Or the image of Dyn. Or something.

'The bloody Black Neb,' I exclaimed softly, frozen in place. I'd never expected this. Dyn had to be somehow sanely mad, or I was... But he was gone.

The cats just stared at the empty space and up to me with wide bright eyes and meowed.

I could only stare with them and try to capture my racing thoughts. Wyrm weather, I told myself, but somehow this felt too real. The shadows of the cats moved across the stacks and piles, spooking me. I just wanted to get out away.

I stepped closer and reached for Captain vey'Cline's Travel Book of Faylyen. Somehow, it seemed very ancient. I opened it, one side had some sort of unfamiliar text and on the other, a softly colored, almost painting-like picture of a sunny place and a blue sea, a place that I could taste just looking at the image. I glanced away, frightened. I touched the edges of the pages and they changed into new scenes, maps and a strange text that I found I could somehow read... I closed the book with a snap. It has been said that any sufficiently advanced technology appears to be magic to the less advanced. This was magic. If it was a technology, it was more advanced that what I could imagine. It made the machine's ChequeTokens seem like toys.

There was a latch on the worn leather cover and I carefully latched it and twisting about and around the pile of crates Dyn had moved to reach no. 33 box, I slipped the book back into the half open drawer of the safe which was otherwise empty. I slid the drawer closed and touched the key jewel to the lock interface. I tried the drawer. It was locked. I looked at the worn gold ring in my hand, and slipped it into my pocket. I couldn't imagine ever wearing it. I braced myself against the pile opposite and slid the whole pile back against the wall of safes and tightened the lashings that Dyn had loosened to get at the safe. My heart was racing, my head swirling, so I sat down and tried to comfort the confused cats that were mewling about me. After a while, I picked up the lantern and turned to go.

Min was standing in the shadows watching me.

04

I started. 'Min! You startled me. How long have you been there?'

She ignored my question, asking one of her own, 'What are you and the cats up to in here, Captain?'

'I was finishing my nightly rounds and I found the strong room door ajar. It shouldn't have been open, of course. I thought maybe you were communing with your inheritance again. The cats and I investigated. We found Dyn instead.'

'I don't see him.'

That told me something. 'He was, or at least I believe he was. Hard to tell.'

'Really? Hard to tell?'

'What with the singularity it's hard for me to tell illusion and the real. But I'm fairly certain it was him. He's left us.'

'If you say so,' She remarked, watching me closely. 'Care to expand on that?'

'We, that is to say, the cats and I found him waiting in here for me, knowing I make my round of the ship before retiring. He had the book, Captain vey'Cline's Travel Book of Faylyen and he told me he intended to use it to go to Faylyen. He said he realized that there is a connection between being able to use the book to travel and the singularity – it lowers the barriers to travel. He said that connection was never made or was lost in the retelling of the tale.'

She gave me a skeptical look, but I carried on. 'I believe he was never able to find his way out of his grief and decided to take the opportunity to go away. He found Faylyen quite enchanting – the book almost takes you there just by looking at the pictures. Anyway, he's decided to start a new life... So he went, leaving us. He said he's arranged to give his shipmates credits, but that will take some time... Anyway, he's gone for good.'

'To Faylyen.'

'He was here one moment and gone the next. Just vanished. I never thought I'd ever say anything like that, but it's the truth, or what passes for the truth in wyrm weather,' I replied. The still rather formal barrier between us prevented me from volunteering any more information about the book, where it is and how to get it. I felt bad about that, but it felt right too.

She closed her eyes and sighed. 'Things are a little strange, I'll grant you that, Captain, but I think it's best if you, and your friends, get some rest now.'

This was not right. Something had to be done before it got worse.

'Tallith, let's not go on like this.'

'Like what, Captain?'

'Like that, Tallith. I thought we'd settled things, but they're still not quite right between us. You don't have to be so guarded around me all the time.'

'I'm not.'

'Oh, we get along well enough. I'll not complain. It's just that I know that we could be closer. We were, for a while down on the Yacht Club grounds. And it would be nice to be like that again. I'm not asking for anything from you besides, well, your trust, and friendship.'

'Friendship? Trust? I think you have both.'

'Neither in full measure.'

'You have all that I can give.'

'Then you're a coward, Tallith Min. You know we share more than this. You know how I feel about you. Probably even clearer than I, for I try not to look at it too closely, if only to give you the space you seem to want. I know you far better than you'd like, but you must be able to see that I care for you far more than you'd like to admit. I've seen that too, once or twice. But I've seen it. Can we be honest with each other and ourselves, about our feelings?'

'A coward?' she smiled. 'That's a meteor calling an asteroid a rock. You've just admitted that you're not even honest with yourself, much less me. But if it's honesty you want, let's be honest. I'll even start...

'So yes, I do care for you, Wil. More than I'm comfortable feeling. Not because of you, but because of what I must do. Oh, you are trustworthy – sometimes. You're brave, good, and kind, but you are not right for me. You know that. And you know what I must do or die trying. You're wise enough to fear it's hopeless, but too enamored to steer clear and save yourself.'

'Can I at least make that decision for myself?'

She shook her head no. 'Even if I didn't care for you, I wouldn't let you follow me. It wouldn't be right. But I do care. But that doesn't blind me to the fact that you're not cut out for what the dangers that I believe lay ahead for me.'

'What do you mean? Did I not stand beside you at the Yacht Club? Did I not...' but I'd not bring in the duel. It was a matter of pride now. So I finished, 'Have I not face the continued threat of assassination?'

'Oh, you're no coward, but you're too, well, softhearted. You're too kind, too Unity Standard to fit into what I suspect lies ahead. You see, I've gone over the stories of the Four Shipmates and stripped out all the romance, the humor, and the fantastic elements that they wove into those stories. What remains is a ruthless, deadly struggle. No quarter give or asked. It's straight out of the deep drifts and you're not equipped to deal with something so heartless, so uncivilized. You'd try, I know, but at some point, you'd hesitate and shy away from doing something hard, dark and necessary, and our quest would be over. I can't risk that. I've hardened my heart to face those cold, cruel facts, but I don't think you're capable of that, and that makes you a weak link, a liability rather than an asset. So you see, Wil, the very qualities that attract me to you, doom a personal relationship...

'You are, however, a good ship's captain. I want you to look after my ship and my shipmates. If you truly care for me, that's what you will do. It is, after all, simply a matter of using the right person in the right job. And your job is taking my ship world to world and earning a dividend for me,' she concluded, watching me.

I sighed. 'Well, I'll not deny that I'm not cut from the same cloth as the Four Shipmates. I don't relish the quest you've set your heart on, and I would certainly advise you to reconsider it and let the past alone. But I don't think I'd ever be the weak link if it came to your life. I would do what it took to keep you safe. Always,' I said standing and stepping close.

'And, well, I'll not be a coward now. I am in love with you, and probably was from the first seconds I laid eyes on you...' And with that I drew her close and kissed her.

05

I blinked awake – perhaps – and I was alone, sitting on a pile of junk in the strong room, surrounded by cats. Min was nowhere to be found.

Of course. Min had been a wyrm weather vision. Even I was out of character. Was my visit with Dyn also a vision? I felt my pocket, found the small circle it contained and pulling it out, found Miccall's gold ring with the gem inside, so not all of it was wyrm weather. I could not place exactly where the seam lay between the real and the wyrm. Wearily I rose, made my way out of the strong room, and making certain all the cats were out, closed and locked the strong room door.

I wished the cats good night, and went down to my cabin and retired to my bunk and turned on the sleep machine. I wanted oblivion. With the dreams of my waking hours, I'd didn't think I'd find sleep any less unreal..

### Chapter 53 Day 163 Getting by to Zilantre

I don't know what I would have set down, if I'd found time to write during the turmoil precipitated by Dyn's disappearance, compounded by the effects of the wyrm weather on us all. Writing about them now I find I can describe the events rather dispassionately, but this account would likely have read quite differently if I'd written it twenty-nine days ago.

The sleep machine gave me four hours of solid sleep, so when I was awakened by Vynnia and informed that Dyn, by his vid account, had somehow left the ship, I was able to react decisively. I decided to keep my meeting with Dyn a secret. While I could trust my shipmates with the ring and the book, I couldn't trust them not to spin yarns about them. If Miccall's darq gem ring, and the Travel Book of Faylyen became common knowledge in the various Spaceer's Rows, I feared we'd all become targets of thieves and pirates, especially if we had to operate in the drifts for a while. Dyn's advice to follow the Four Shipmate's policy of keeping secrets by not telling them, seemed wise.

While Dyn's farewell to his shipmates included his use of the book to leave the ship, he left no proof of its existence, keeping it mythical. I ordered a complete search of the ship, stem to stern, inside and between hulls, including the between the hull and hold section that houses the fuel tanks and is in hard vacuum. Knowing how susceptible I am to the effects of the wyrm, I couldn't be certain of what actually happened in the strong room. Miccall's ring was still in my pocket when I awoke, so that much seemed real, but as for the rest, even his departure for Faylyen could have been a wyrm weather vision. I half expected to find him holed up somewhere within the ship, but two days of searching yielded nothing.

I also ordered the techs to conduct a full review of the ship's environmental data and a physical check of all the sensors installed at the airlocks and other access points to see if we could locate Dyn or find a believable way that he could've left the ship undetected.

None of the sensors appeared to have been tampered with but the bio data did provide one – uncomfortable – lead.

'Well Willy, I've gone over the environmental data, and I may have found one rather strange bit of data,' said Rafe, with a curious glance to me.

'And that would be?' I asked carefully.

'The ship's environmental tracking data suggests the presence of a person within the strong room on the night Dyn disappeared, even though there's no sensor data to indicate the door was opened, which is very strange,' he said watching me. 'I suspect that Dyn can move about the ship without leaving a trace if he cares to. He is rather one with the ship...'

'Well they searched the strong room, the safe and all the boxes large enough to hide in... So have there been any other indications since?' I asked, thinking hard on how much I'd have to tell Rafe. And how believable it might, or might not, be.

He shook his head, 'No. And it just seemed to blink out early in the sixth watch, though not before a jump in activity, consistent with several more people.'

'Cats,' I said. 'Only me and the cats.' If he wanted to, and may have, he could comb through the ship's environmental monitoring system and track me as I moved through the ship. Lying wasn't an option.

'And Dyn?' Rafe asked quietly.

'And Dyn. He was waiting for me, knowing my habit of making the rounds before I retire for the night,' I admitted. 'We had a short talk, essentially along the lines of his vid, which is to say how very unhappy he was with Fen gone, and he'd discovered a way out using The Travel Book of Faylyen. Apparently the thin reality within a wyrm singularity lowers the bar enough to physically travel to Faylyen via the pages of the book. Or so he claimed. And so he had to act or miss this chance.

'As you know, I'd already seen the ghost of Glen Colin, so I make no pretense of being a reliable witness, but as far as I could see, he simply opened the book and vanished. The cats and I sat around for a time trying to make sense of it, without any success. Last night was the strangest night of my life and, well, I really don't want to add to my reputation as a medium of the supernatural. Glen Colin is enough, so I've kept Dyn's apparent supernatural departure to myself, since disappearing into a fabled book is no real explanation but brings my sanity once more into question,' I said, hoping that Rafe would either fail to notice or decide not to ask whether the book went with Dyn or not since it was safer for the book to remain a myth – though I would trust Rafe to keep the secret if it came down to that.

Rafe considered that for a while, and sighed, 'Willy, my lad, we're in strange space, and as you say, it doesn't make things any easier to accept. But you did see him vanish before your eyes?'

I sighed, 'Rafe, I thought I did, but I'm not a reliable witness, I saw a number of things during the night that I know now where not real, so meeting Dyn could easily be part of that sequence of fantasy, or at least a mixture of the real and the wyrm.'

'Aye, I guess it's best left unsaid. An undetected exit via an airlock, or a hidden hole somewhere amongst the fuel tanks is perhaps the best guess, for those who don't care for the supernatural...'

We left it at that, though I've a feeling Rafe was simply being discrete. Someday I'll have to spin my yarn to him, but he left it for saner times.

On awakening, I also ordered the engine saddle extension to be reinforced along Glen Colin's suggestions. Lilm, who I gathered, had argued for a wider safety margin was on board, but Riv and Myes rather resented a mere ship captain poking his nose into what was seen as the engine room's concern.

Riv made that clear to me.

'I tell you Skipper, the extension is solid enough,' he said urgently, red in the face, after having tracked me down.

'Perhaps. But I want it to be super solid enough,' I replied, resigned to this meeting since I made my decision. 'Better safe than sorry.'

'All because of some dream or hallucination or even the ghost of Glen Colin telling you so?'

'Yes.' I wasn't an engineer, so there was no point claiming any expertise on my part.

'I've been a ship's chief engineer for more than a century. I think I know something about engines and ship design, and I'm telling you that that saddle extension is more than what we need as it is. And I resent being second guessed by a still wet behind the ears bridge officer. If you don't trust my judgment, maybe you should find yourself a new chief engineer.'

'Well, I'm lucky that I have three others on board to choose from. But I'm not replacing you. I'm giving you your orders, Chief. Maybe I haven't been giving you enough of them for you to get used to it, but get used to it you must. As for the source of my concern, well, I'm no more superstitious than the next spaceer, but when I have a dream, or a hallucination, or a visit by the ghost of Glen Colin warning me to reinforce the saddle extension, I take it. No questions asked. And so would you,' I replied. It was, at least amongst spaceers, a telling argument. You may find less superstitious people downside, but not in space.

He considered that, opened his mouth, and thought better of it, and with a sulky shrug asked, 'Where am I to get the D-Steel to do the job?'

'Use the new drone davit to start. If you need more, we'll cut some out of the dismantled bulkhead.'

'The davit we spent half a voyage building?'

'I know it's our pride and joy, and a marvel of ingenuity, but we need to get to Zilantre and we're going to have to use the cut down engine hard to get there on time. I'm sure we'll have time to rebuild the davit...'

'If I have to design and rebuild the saddle it'll delay decel and we won't make Zilantre on schedule.'

'No it won't. We've still two days left to finish cutting the bell. And after that we'll slowly work up the engine. You'll have time to design and install the additional supports as we go along. You can draw on the crew to help. I want that 5x safety margin. Jump to it' Chief.'

He glared at me for several moments. And grinned. 'Right.' he said and with a wink turned to go.

You don't spend 16 years cooped up in a space ship with someone without arriving at a pretty fair understanding of your shipmates. Riv had to object to my interference in his domain. He also knew it was my right to do so. But he had to test me as well. And then, too, he's no more superstitious than the next spaceer himself.

And then there was the encounter with Min. That was entirely a wyrm experience, since Min was in her room and asleep. The wyrm weather had apparently allowed me to overturn a rock in my unconscious mind to project what was underneath it as a vivid dream. I'm not sure – or at least not willing to admit – that the wyrm vision really represents my true feelings. I wonder if it might've included something of Min's actual attitude, since she didn't appear as I'd have thought I'd project her in a dream. I gave it a lot of thought and turned that particular rock back over again. In any event, it didn't seem to affect Min, who treated me no differently, that hidden reserve remaining, which I appreciated a lot more, after my imaginary encounter.

Everyone gave me grief about not only meeting the ghost of Glen Colin, but for my forcing the engineers to follow his advice. Still, while none of them are more superstitious than the next spaceer – you do have to pay attention to the omens, and well, we could hardly go wrong strengthening the saddle extension. Safety first. All, in all, it's another yarn that I, unfortunately, can add to my growing collection of old spaceer claims yarns that I'll be able use to entertain (or bore) my downside friends – if I should survive long enough to become Ol'Captain Wil, the cha planter...

I logged the wyrm weather and Dyn's vid and fruitless search without comment. The Guild and Unity authorities can make what they will of it. The wyrm weather persisted for the better part of a week, though its intensity slowly declined after Dyn's disappearance, and while the moving shadows and the feeling of not being quite alone as we should have been persisted, knowing their source went a long way towards making them less stressful. In the end, it seemed that Min, Riv, Lili and Kie were unaffected by the wyrm, Lilm and I were the most affected, and everyone else more or less suffered the moving shadows effect at least in the heart of the storm.

As a side note I should mention that while I have not remained quite the patron saint of the cats of no. 4 hold since the end of the wyrm weather, they have remained friendly with me, greeting me casually when I make my rounds or pass the time of day with me when I'm up in no. 4 hold to work out or fence with Barlan, Molaye and Kie.

Our service bot finished severing the bell two days after Dyn's disappearance and we secured the severed section in no. 2 hold. Within hours we began test firing the main rocket, and slowly began our decel using our balancing rockets. Everything went smoothly, allowing Lilm to oversee the redesign, construction and installation of additional braces and cross braces to the saddle extension while the engine testing was ongoing. Once we got the engine up to half force, we did indeed find, as predicted by Glen Colin, that we'd get persistent flow and vortex irregularities that rattled the engine until stepped down and back up again. Nothing we couldn't handle, but the engine now needed to be watched very carefully. Riv pointed out that its subtle twisting and rough running never exceeded the limits of the originally installed extension, but it certainly made running the rockets more comfortable knowing we had a margin of error to work with. As far as I'm concerned, we owed Glen Colin.

Five days after we started testing the engine, and once we had the reinforced extension fully installed, we began decelerating at full force, riding the sometimes rough and touchy main engine at about half force and using the balancing engines nearly flat out to deceleration hard in order to not over run Zilantre and make our deadline. The nine engines running hot for the next twenty-four days kept the engineers busy, but we managed to slip into Zilantre orbit with half a day to spare – 163 days out of Sanre-tay orbit.

The LinTin Chartered Trading Company's tug will be here within the hour to collect the first of their two boats and Limai & O've Mining Chartered tug is on its way to collect one of its boats too, so I won't have time to write much more for at least several days. Riv has already requested the gig to visit the asteroid based shipyards that circle Zilantre to see what we can afford to do about the main engine.

Vynnia has just let me know the LinTin boat has arrived, so I'll close this account.

It has been, well, an interesting passage.

### Part Five – Saint Bleyth and the Passage to Boscone

### Chapter 54 The Agent of Saint Bleyth

01

'Remember this isn't the Unity. I can't afford to replace any of you, so be careful, stay quiet and stick together,' I said, adding, 'And don't do anything I wouldn't do.'

'Yes, dad,' sighed Molaye rolling her eyes. 'We'll be home early.'

I gave her a stern glare which didn't make a dent in her, or anyone else in the shore party for that matter, Min, Rafe, Kie, Lili, Tenry, and Vynnia.

Min grinned. She and Molaye had become friendly rivals, neither of them willing to concede that the other was bolder or braver than the other. Our final mark 7.1 acceleration was only a result of Riv or Lilm putting their foot down or my junior pilots would have no doubt pushed it to mark 8 or beyond.

Vynnia frowned, probably at me for allowing such flippant replies. 'I'll look after them, Captain,' she said.

'So will I,' added Tenry with a grin.

'If you ever want to see the Unity again, you'd better,' I said as the shuttle glided up to collect the shore party. They climbed on and went off with a merry wave.

I remained by the gig, still warm from its descent, and sighed. The sooner we put Zilantre and the drifts astern, the happier I'd be. Still, effects of the long passage and the disappearance of Dyn had to be dissipated ashore and Min felt we could afford a week or two in orbit to give everyone a needed break from the ship and routine.

I drew a deep breath of fresh sea-air and started off for the LinTin Hangar, one of the massive box-like hangars that circle the landing field with its orderly rows of rocket boats and lighters. CityOne Spaceport is set on a high, flattened island in a broad, island studded bay. Through the breaks in the line of hangars I could just catch sight of the blue sea and the day's last light shimmering off the dancing waves as the chain of suns set. Zilantre has four micro-suns. The lead sun was already below the horizon and the second within a finger's width, with the trailing one a hand's width above the deep blue line. The fourth micro-sun, the smallest, follows the other three half an orbit back acting as the planet's moon to provide a "moonlit" night, since the dead black cloud of the Myzar drift fills half the sky like a clutching black hand, leaving only two stars and some strands of glowing nebula to break the blackness of the night sky.

This was my first experience with a typical drift world, a planet in the style of the prehistoric idea of a solar system with the sun(s) orbiting the planet. Zilantre's micro-suns or so called lamp suns make a complete orbit once a day (by definition, I guess). All of them had been asteroids before being towed into orbit around Zilantre and imploded – igniting them like miniature suns that burn for three or four thousand years before needing replacements. I'm told there are hundreds of similar planets scattered about the drifts. And most of the larger drift communities without planet sized rocks also have lamp suns to keep the big night somewhat at bay.

Zilantre was just a frozen, sunless planet before a consortium of Chartered Trading Companies decided to convert it into a supply and transshipment center for their far-flung trading, mining, refining, and foundry operations in this sector of the Myzar Drift. They began the process by towing and igniting half a dozen small asteroids to thaw the planet over the course of a thousand years while atmospheric engines were built to create a habitable atmosphere. Once the atmosphere was up and running, vast terraforming machines were brought in to craft a sustainable environment around the planet's tropics for the humans that were arriving to build farms, factories, warehouses, ship yards, and joy houses to serve as the far flung commercial enterprises of the great Chartered Trading Companies.

I was making my way to the LinTin Chartered Trading Company's hangar and port office to meet their port captain, Lenz deLin. Captain deLin and I had worked together over the course of several days unloading LinTin's two guard boats and auxiliary supplies and had gotten along well. He'd invited me to dinner at the Helm and Star Club where I'd have a chance to meet other captains and ship owners.

Other than worrying about my shipmates getting into trouble ashore, I was feeling pretty braced. We'd completed our delivery with everything in order. Despite having a nice, healthy credit balance, Min had decided not to make the engine repairs on Zilantre but to wait until we were back in the Unity and had a prospect of cargoes. We have none here, which, truth be told, didn't make me very sad. It meant we'd need to return to Aticor and the Unity with a chance of avoiding the drifts. Celin had sent a long radio packet with contact information and introductions to agents in that system which I hoped would give us an in, without having to do time in the drifts.

The lack of cargo prospects was due to the fact that the smoldering troubles which had brought us here with the four guard boats had flared into a full-fledged drift war during our passage out. One of the largest reef political entities in this region of the drift, the Confederacy of Despar decided to expand beyond its home reef, and was in the process of swallowing other smaller and less powerful independent communities as well as some Chartered Trading Company mines and factories using a large (by drift standards) navy and many commandeered trading ships. Beyond Zilantre, any ship not registered and licensed by the Despar Navy was subject to attack and seizure by the Despar Navy or any of its many wide-ranging letter of marque raiders. On the flip side, any ship registered and licensed by the Despar Navy was considered an enemy combatant by Despar's enemies and subject to attack and seizure. For this reason, prudent ship-owners, and most of the others as well, had decided to sit this war out. Many of them had laid up their ships in Zilantre orbit where there were enough CTC guard ships to deter even the Despar Navy. (They hoped.) As a result, there were well over a hundred tramp freighters, company transports and smaller drifteer traders in the orbital roadstead waiting for the war to burn itself out. It seems that we'd jumped from the frying pan into the fire as far as cargoes go. The silver lining was that it meant we'd not be going further into the drifts and had no recourse but to try our luck in the Aticor. It is for this reason that Min decided to sit on our credit balance, keeping it as a cushion against breaking into the Aticor trade. A decision I agreed with. A healthy credit balance is a nice thing to have, even if it meant nursing the engines a bit. And not having to deal with trading in the drifts was an asteroid dodged as far as I'm concerned. A million asteroids dodged.

I reached the edge of the field and since I was still early, leaned up against the wall to watch the last sun set over the sea as the sea birds whirled overhead and the waves tumbled over the rocks far below until Captain deLin found me. We signaled for a shuttle to take us to the transport hub at the land facing edge of the island and boarded a pod that whisked us across the bay to CityOne.

'They certainly built these tracks high enough, though I don't see a lot of boats about.' I remarked as we raced across the darkening waters for the low lights of CityOne. We had to be fully fifty meters over the water.

'That's on account of our storms. We don't have any real seasons, of course, but our polar regions are large and very cold. Since the micro-suns have to be placed in a fairly close orbit to circle the planet in something like a standard day, you can make the micro-suns big and hot and end up with the tropics too hot to live in or you can choose use smaller micro-suns so that the tropics are livable, as they did here, but that leaves the poles very cold. There are vast glaciers on either pole, and when the cold polar air mixes with the warm air of the tropics it creates lots of vortexes that bring very strong storms roaring down to CityOne. And with only a .5 gee standard gravity and deep seas, the winds will raise massive waves. Twenty, thirty meter or more waves are common. You'll notice even the large islands in the bay are just bare rock, swept bare year in and year out by the storms. So we have to keep our infrastructure out of the way of the storm waves. Even with fifty meter towers, the rails are sometimes swept by waves,' said deLin, adding, 'And we keep the bay full of islands to break the seas up somewhat before the waves reach the city.'

'Ah, so that's why the space port and the Strand promenade are fifty meters above the beach as well,' I said. 'I thought it very strange to have the Strand so high off the beach.'

'Aye, and don't think it doesn't come in useful at times...'

The ride was of only ten kilometers, so we were soon slowing for our stop at the Strand Station.

CityOne is for the most part, a low built city, with most buildings no more than four stories high and built of concrete and clear steel. Only the offices, factories and godowns of the major chartered trading companies rise higher to overlook the city. Sprawling factories spread out from the outskirts of the city, marking Zilantre as a drift world. You'll not find heavy industries on the planets of the Unity Charter. We use moons for that. Nor would you find the mines that dot Zilantre's livable tropics either, since they are also relegated to the moons and the drifts.

The Helm and Star Club is an establishment that caters exclusively to ship owners, captains and first mates. deLin had introduced me around several days ago, and we were there for dinner and a few drinks. I don't spend my nights off the ship, so I'd be going light on the drinks, but the cuisine – especially the (real) meat raised on Zilantre – was well worth dining downside. The synth-meat we can produce on board is not close to the real, planet raised, item.

We pushed through the first tap room, a large, low and noisy room filled with the chief mates off the ships in the roadstead and their guests. I glanced about for Vynnia and Tenry, but I (thankfully) didn't see them. Hopefully they'd stayed with the rest of the gang and steered them to one of the quieter establishments along the two kilometer stretch of the Strand devoted to entertaining spaceers. deLin lead the way through the crush of cheerful mates and out into the central courtyard, and following the dim lit path to the back room, reserved for owners, their captains, and guests. CityOne buildings, residences, and business alike are built in hollow squares around enclosed courtyards that provide shelter from the gales during the frequent storms. Some share common walls, others stand alone, separated by narrow alleys. This courtyard was dark in the twilight under several old pines that grew in the yard, scenting the evening air with their rich tangy green spice.

The Senior Room of the Helm and Star, was the private preserve of the owners and captains of the ships laying idle in the roadstead gathered. It was an order of magnitude quieter and far less merry. Their idle ships left them little to be jolly about. We joined several of deLin's friends at their table – captains of ships either owned by LinTin CTC or who often did business with the firm. He introduced me to several captains I'd not met before and we ordered our drinks to wait for the rest of the usual suspects to arrive.

'I've a question,' I said to the table. 'I admit that almost all I know about the drifts comes from fiction, vids, and old spaceer's tales, which, I suspect, exaggerate the dangers of the drifts a bit. However, I had the impression that there is always a danger of being attacked by professional or occasional pirates in the drifts. So what makes the present situation so dire that your owners have laid their ships up instead of carrying on as usual?'

'Well, I'm certain the tales you've heard are mostly exaggerations.' began a grey haired captain by the name of Lively Livton. The Lively tag being ironic. 'I'm a hundred and fifty years old and have not had to beat off more than two dozen such attacks in my career. So you see that piracy is not all that common. What little there is of it, is mostly confined to small, local transport ships, mine tenders, prospector rigs, and such. Those ships, more likely than not, are just creeping along, which makes them easy to come up on. And then, with little in the way of defensive missiles, easy to capture as well. Larger ships, faster ships like yours, running between distant points at higher velocities and armed with hundreds of anti-meteor missiles are mostly immune from pirates. In normal times, anyhow. Oh, there are plenty of ships out in the deep drifts that'll turn pirate if it looks to be a paying proposition, but well, there's a lot of drift, and it doesn't usually pay to lay awaiting for a likely ship to turn up. Could be months for some stations and the popular planets and they don't take kindly to the practice. They usually do something about it. So run of the mill pirates don't keep us awake at night worrying about 'em,' he said and paused to light his gaspeleaf pipe.

'What's different these days,' he continued, 'is that them Despar folks have mobilized every ship they can lay their hands on and have sent them out to act as commerce raiders – a polite word for pirates. They install a missile battery in the ship's hold, staff the ship with a couple of their Navy folk to man these weapons and make certain things are done Despar Navy style and sent them off to haunt the approaches of the reefs and planets they have their eyes on. Now these ships are better armed than your run of the mill drift pirate, and the planets or stations they're haunting, are either under attack from Despar, or desperately trying to avoid that fate, so they're not likely to kick about pirates in the offing. You can sail to Vindare and sleep like a baby the whole passage. It's hard for any pirate to locate you in the drift, and build enough velocity to come alongside while you're at cruising speed. But in your final approach to the Vindare reef, when you're decelerating hard to make a known point in space, you'd likely encounter several of their raiders awaiting to fling salvos of missiles at you and good luck with that. Despar may have been jumping mining claims and ships on the sly for decades, but now they're out for bigger game and hunting in packs. Rumor has it they're attempting to capture the whole Boscone Reef itself with half the Despar navy.'

'And that's not the half of it, Willie,' added Captain Blackie Bright. 'The Neb-blasted problem is that we don't know how this is going to play out. You can register your ship with Despar and trade within the drift their Confederacy controls, without too much danger. Despar's enemies are sending out occasional raiders, but they're few and far between. They've their hands full just trying to keep Despar's raiders out of their own orbit. Or so Despar would have you believe, least ways. But truth be told, it's far from certain that Despar is going to win this war. They've gone and made a lot of enemies, big and little, rich and poor. Despar needs to win or they lose it all. And when you consider the boats you just brought in with others on the way, well they may well tip the balance against Despar. I'm wondering if they were all that smart jumping all those CTC stations and attacking CTC ships...'

'Unless the companies decide it's cheaper to cut a deal with Admiral Dre Rodine, the Confederacy's big leader,' piped in Captain Maulie. 'In which case we'll all have Despar tickets...'

'So, you see, it's simply too soon to know how it'll turn out. And well, our owners are looking at decades of trading ahead so they're reluctant to commit to any one side, afraid of ending up on the losing side and finding themselves unwelcome in this sector. It's tough enough trading without being branded a former enemy. All in all, it seems prudent to sit this fracas out and be ready to trade again when things settle down,' added Captain Bright, 'If they do.'

'Ships are being laid up all over the Myzar beyond the reefs under attack,' continued Captain Maulie. 'Not much going in. They can fight only so long before they run out of missiles and credits to buy them, even if they could find the ships to bring them in. So it can't last for more than another six months or so before it has to burn itself out. Either Despar wins or they have to toss in their hand and settle – somehow. It'll be a Neb-bloody mess. All I can say is that when things settle down, mate, they'll find shipping rates will have gone up considerably. All we have to do is to wait it out together...'

'Maulie's our sunny optimist,' said Blackie Bright, adding, 'I'm thinking it could go on for years. Dre Rodine has a reputation for being both bright and ruthless. He's no fool, and wouldn't have started this if he didn't think he could finish it.' Which brought several grim nods and 'Ayes' for the table.

'You ain't thinking of going in?' asked Lively, looking sharply at me.

'Not a chance,' I quickly assured them. 'This is all the drifts I need to see with or without a war. I'm taking the ship to Aticor, hollow likely enoough, and soon. I've no interest in seeing a drift war up close and personal.'

'It'll be hollow,' said deLin. 'With all the troubles, our godowns here are empty and who knows when they'll start filling up again. The drifts are vast and our companies have operations all through them, so that our troubles can look pretty small from our First Worlds' headquarters. The additional guard boats may be the extent of their concern...'

'I figured as much, I'll gladly take her out hollow. No offense, mates, but you're welcome to the drifts. It's the planetary trade I know, and the planetary trade is where I intend to stay.'

02

I left before things got too morose, which is sometime after their third tall glass of Ram Rock Rum. I slipped out into the cool night air, crossed the crowded Strand to the sea side wall to clear my head of Ram Rock fumes and gathered my wits about me. It was still early and the wide Strand was swarming with idled spaceers off of the hundred ships in orbit. Groups of spaceers – three to a dozen strong strolled by talking and laughing loudly. Spaceers, arm in arm with their companion or joy house human, hurried past on their way to their rendezvous, and solitary figures stalked by, seeking a mate, or their next port of call along the long street. But I also noted a darker undercurrent amongst the flow of brightly intoxicated spaceers – grim, hungry looking groups, and hunched solitary figures, that just drifted in the flow or haunted the dark corners. This was the drifts, and only a minority of the spaceers, those off CTC owned ships, were Guild members with Guild unemployment credits. Most of the others would be drifteers and unlikely to have any regular source of credits, or money (tokens of credits that they use in the drifts) coming their way once they'd been paid off and spent through their wages. Hopefully they'd get by with borrowing from their more frugal mates but I'd my doubts. I slipped my hand into my coat pocket just to make sure my brand new darter was still there. It was. The armored jacket I bought had a special inner pocket to hold darters and spare clips.

In the drifts, the darter replaces the billy-blade as the spaceer's weapon of choice. As long as the darters are loaded with non-lethal darts they're actually better than billy-blades – the victims, for the most part, wake up with only headaches instead of bruised limbs and broken bones.

Since we were in the drifts, it made sense for those of us who didn't own a darter, only Molaye, Kie, Min, and myself, – all the old hands had one tucked away in their space chests – to acquire one. So as soon as we were free of offloading our cargo, Tenry took us down to an armorer shop off the Strand to pick one out. Darters come in all manner of shapes, sizes and configurations. The plasma darts themselves come in 1, 2, and 4 mm calibers with 1mm's being non-lethal, 2mm having both non-lethal and lethal charges and 4mm used for punching through spacesuits and heavy armor – the pirate's weapon of choice, at least in the vids and stories. The dart consists of a head, 1, 2, or 4mm in diameter which may or may not have a D-matter armor piercing point. The head is a super D-matter capacitor that's given its charge as it's launched. This head is mounted on a 2 to 5 cm long needle drive shaft that the darter's impeller beam uses to drive and direct the dart in flight, this shaft is surrounded by a soft wrap just to level it up with the capacitor head and make for easy handling in the clip. The capacitor is charged just prior to firing and driven along the impeller beam to the target where the entire dart disintegrates and discharges a burst of plasma that either disrupts the nervous system to stun or knock unconscious the target up to several hours, or fries the nervous system, killing the target.

I picked up a small, very flat 1mm darter that holds two clips, one to for regular darts and one for armor piercing, both non-lethal. It fits unobtrusively in my pocket and holds five hundred darts per clip. Tenry says it's known as a sissy darter or just a sissy. For some reason. Molaye, on the other hand, went right for a wicked looking 4 mm multi-caliber full range darter, (a pirate piece) that was so big she'd have wear it in a holster on her hip. Tenry managed to convince her that people who go about with darters on their hips often find themselves in arguments with other people who wear darters on their hips, and unless they've very good with darters, end up with very bad headaches, holes in them, or not at all. He advised her that until she was that good, she might want to choose a less obvious weapon. She picked out a second darter, 2mm pocket-able universal to hold her over until she'd practiced enough with her pirate piece to wear it. Both Kie and Min picked up small 2mm universals, though Min bought a rather expensive piece.

I noticed that they had phantom-glass knives with sheaths in the shop, so I stopped back later with my captured phantom-glass knife and matched it with a sheath made of similar material. The sheath had an indent matching the knife so you could fit the knife in flat and wrap the whole sheath and knife around an arm or leg where it wouldn't show. I've mine above my ankle. Haven't a clue as to what I'd ever do with it, but from the space adventure vids and books I've seen and read, I felt I needed it. This was the drifts, after all.

We also stopped at a haberdasher to add to our armored wardrobe, though that gets complicated real fast. Darters should be programmed not to allow fire at heads and the heart region, though, of course they can be hacked to ignore those limits. At any rate, since most spaceers wear some sort of armored clothing and often layers of it, everyone uses armor piercing darts. My darter fires both – half press on the trigger sends a regular, and a full press sends an armor piercing one behind it. So unless you wear three or four layers of armored clothing (which a 4mm dart would penetrate anyway), armor doesn't give you a great deal of protection – a lethal dart anywhere in you kills you – it does, however, prevent armor piercing darts from putting 2mm holes through you if you're not wearing any armor. And yet, under certain circumstances you might want exactly that. For instance, if you'd armored trousers, and got hit by an armor piercing dart, it would penetrate and discharge in you, either killing you or knocking you out. If, however, if the trousers aren't armored the armor-piercing dart would likely fly through your leg (painful, but hardly fatal) without discharging and you'd have a chance to respond. So how do you choose? I didn't see how you could win, so I just added a vest that could be worn under my armored shirt, sweater, and jacket and vowed not to get into a situation where I'd need to worry about it.

I see I've gone off on a tangent here, so I'd best get on with my yarn.

Once I cleared my head, I set out for the Strand Station to hop a pod back to the space port and then up to the ship. I wasn't too concerned about the dark undercurrents – it was still early and there were too many cheerful spaceers about ready to lend a hand if anything got nasty.

'Good evening, Captain Litang,' she said in a bright and cheery voice, slipping her arm in between mine and swinging in step beside me. Startled, I glanced aside. Not what I expected. She was a wrinkled old spaceer in a long black coat. She gave me a knowing grin as her bright sharp grey eyes, just visible in the shadow under the bill of her well-worn cap. The circled comet badge proclaimed her to be a chief engineer. A rather forward one, I thought.

'Good evening, Chief,' I replied cautiously. 'Have we met?' And responding to a taunting, her ram you damn you smile, added, 'I'm certain I'd have remembered you if we had. Do you have a name?'

'Thank you, Wil, my dear. But we haven't, though we have a mutual acquaintance.'

'Captain deLin?' I couldn't think of anyone else.

'No. We can go into the who of it later, if you like. Right now you and I have some business to discuss. Business of a rather confidential nature, I should add. It'd be best if we retire to my private room just up the Strand a ways. I realize this is a rather unconventional course, but I assure you it's a true one. I've an offer you'll find too lucrative to give it a go-by,' she said, adding with a laugh. 'And just so there's no misunderstanding, I'm talking about a lucrative charter, my dear Captain Litang, nothing more...'

This was getting weirder by the moment. I gave her a hard look. 'Into the drifts?' It wasn't much of a question.

'Yes,' she replied readily, watching me. 'To Boscone Reef.'

'I believe Boscone was mentioned this evening... Ah yes, I remember. It was used as an example of where Despar privateers are found lurking in great numbers to greet you with a swarm of missiles. An unhealthy place at the moment. Not interested, Chief, whoever or whatever you are... I seemed to have missed your name.'

'In good time, Captain. And, aye, I'll not lie to you. Despar raiders are indeed to be found about the Boscone Reef. However, I don't believe you'll really have a choice. Owners are so greedy, aren't they? I'm offering a very handsome profit with a minimum of risk. It's your duty to listen to my proposal and take it to your owner. It'll be for her to decide. I'd have talked to her myself, but you're an easier mark.'

That struck me as wrong. I gave her a closer look. She shouldn't have known that the official owner Spectre Holdings had a female pronoun. Or that the owner was on board.

'I know my duties. I've my orders and taking my ship into the drifts, things being the way they are, has been ruled out. Sorry, but there are a hundred other ships in orbit that may be interested, if your offer is really that lucrative. Thanks, but I must be going,' I added, trying to free my arm from her grip.

She grabbed my wrist and didn't let go. 'I insist Litang.'

'I think not. Let's not make a scene about it.'

'You're right,' she snapped and with a lunge with her shoulder, drove me into the dark narrow alley we were passing.

I hit the wall with a 'Uff!' I tried to push her off with my free arm, but the alley got suddenly darker as two large figures followed us in. I can't swear I saw the blue light of plasma discharge as one of the figures pressed a stunner against the side of my neck, but for the sake of consistency, let's say I did, just before I lost consciousness.

03

She, or as it turned out, he, was watching me from the arm rest of a chair across a small carpet when I opened my eyes again, sometime later, absently twirling my new darter on a finger. He smiled, his lips still colored, giving him a sexually ambiguous look. He'd removed the grey wig, and the wrinkles on his face. His own hair was rather long and dark red and was still tied up in back. Without the make up on, he looked trim and fit enough, a century younger.

'A small point, my dear Captain Litang, don't walk out with a pal arm in arm on the side you keep your darter. Makes it so very awkward to get it out in a hurry when you need it.'

'Thanks, I'll remember that. Though I think the next time, just to be on the safe side, I'll simply shoot the person who decides to walk arm in arm with me without asking. I believe I can do that in the drifts, can't I?' I remarked, rubbing my forehead to drive away the pain and clear my thoughts.

'You can do just about anything in the drifts, but consequences inevitably follow, even in the drifts,' he replied brightly.

Who are you? What do you want? And why the masquerade?'

'Pardon me for being so rude. I am Captain Leith D'Lay, currently employed in the service of the Boscone Corporation. As for the masquerade, well, Zilantre is a hot bed of intrigue and I thought it best not to show my face, and certainly not with you. For your safety, I might add.'

'Thanks, but I've a feeling it would've been better if you stayed away completely.'

'Alas, all too true. But duty drives, and I need your ship. I've pressing cargo that I must deliver to Boscone, on schedule,' he shrugged and smiled brightly. 'But I am offering to charter her.'

I swung my legs off the settee and prepared to stand. 'Wrong choice. We're sailing for Aticor. Try your luck with someone else. There's plenty of ships to choose from overhead.'

He shrugged and tossed my brand new darter to me. I managed to snatch it before it bounced off my forehead and aimed it at him.

He flashed me a glimpse of the darter's clips in his hand and said, 'I'll make us a cup of cha and we can talk. Just relax, my dear Wil. You're in no danger from me, and we do need to talk.'

'No danger? You just got through darting and kidnapping me, D'Lay.'

'For your safety, I assure you,' he said and turned to the simple sideboard with the cha making equipment.

I pocketed my useless darter – and made a mental note to carry extra clips with me – and looked about the room. It was obviously a room used for meetings other than the business of chartering ships – it had a small sitting area with a cozy settee, chair, and low table, the cha table and a large bed. There was a window or door behind me that may have led to a balcony, and a second door before me.

'I am sorry about the nature of the invite, but I've a pressing need for a ship, and your ship is ideal, right down to the fact that you're planning to sail hollow for Aticor. All the other ships in the roadstead are either CTC chartered ships or drifteers. The CTC charters aren't available and the drifteers need to make a living in the drifts after this affair is over so they'd bitterly object to me getting them involved in the conflict. You, on the other hand, don't have to make a living in the drifts, and I'm certain we can reach a mutually agreeable fee. Besides, I can trust you with your Unity habit of doing business on the up and up. I couldn't trust any drifteer I might be able to persuade, for, you see, I've a very valuable cargo – and while I'm certain I could handle them, it might result in unacceptable delays.'

'What sort of cargo do you have, and why is it so pressing? If I'm allowed to know, that is.'

'Eight Omni-V jump fighters, crews and service people who've been engaged by the Boscone Corporation to lift Despar's siege of their asteroid reef. They're rather desperate and have the credits to pay for very expensive services, so I need to expedite my delivery.''

'Omni-V jump fighters are a type of war craft, I assume'

'Yes, very effective ones in close combat. Small, but extremely maneuverable when piloted by well-trained pilots like mine. They're almost impossible to hit with any sort of anti-ship missiles since they can jump out of the way faster than any missile can adjust its course. They'll simply run through and mop up the riffraff forces of Despar around Boscone at the moment. However, they're short range boats and need to be transported to the battle area.'

'And you don't have a transport. Rather poor planning.'

He glanced back at me darkly, 'I had the services of a ship, Captain. One of the Order's multipurpose ships. However, word of my intent must have leaked – I suspect someone in the Order's administration with personal ties to someone working for Despar tipped them off. Quite against the rules, but what can I do? In any event, we were jumped in mid-course by six regular Despar Navy frigates. We fought them off, destroying two, chasing the survivors away damaged, but alas, the Striker sustained several missile hits in her engine room and we're now too damaged to make it to the Boscone Reef without repairs. I don't have time to make repairs. I need a substitute ship. Yours, in fact. We'll rendezvous with my ship and transfer the jump fighters, pilots and flight crews to your ship and continue on to Boscone. Usually it's a passage of thirty-four days or so. But to get everything in place I'll charter the Lost Star for fifty days.'

'Assuming we make Boscone, how do we get back out again, or will we be trapped for the duration?'

'Oh, trust me, Willy, there won't be a Despar ship left within days after my arrival, and I'm certain I can guarantee you a well-paying cargo to Aticor as well. A lot of ore has been accumulating because of the war,' he said, bringing a tray with the cha pot and two cups and set it down on a low table next to the settee. He reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a ChequeToken and set it down beside my cup. 'For passage to Boscone.'

I reached out to pick it up to read its amount. I tried, but probably failed not to gasp. The amount represented a year's profit in the planetary trade. A very good year. It was made out to The White Bird Line. I looked up at D'Lay and managed to say, 'Impressive. But you can't spend it dead.'

'I'll get you in and out alive, Captain. No fear of that. As for the charter fee, well, Boscone can afford it. It is the largest and richest reef between Aticor and Amdia. A company reef that leases mining rights and factories to all of the Unity's largest chartered companies. They can afford that fee a hundred times over without blinking. Of course paying you is cutting into the Order's profits, but it is necessary. I need someone I can trust,' he added as he sat down in a chair across from the low table and poured out two cups of cha. Taking one in his in his hands, he settled back into his chair and took a sip, watching me.

'Who are you, and what is this Order you're talking about?' I asked, making no move for the other cup of cha.

'I'm a tactician of the Order of Saint Bleyth,' he said after a sip or two. 'A very ancient and very secret spiritual society, though we're best known outside the Order for the martial arts services we hire ourselves out for. We're rather well known in this quarter of the drifts, and we appear in the Nebula's fiction under various guises. Our services are sought out by those in need of one branch of martial arts or another. To put it plainly, we're specialists for hire, mercenaries, if you want to be snooty about it. We're much more than that, but as a secret order, that's what we're known in the Nebula as.

'The Boscone Co-op has engaged the Order's Fleet Services Division to defend and defeat the Despar space forces which are currently blockading and laying siege to Boscone Reef. I've drawn the assignment to direct the relief operation. I have under my command a mix of Order and freelance jump boat pilots. The free lancers are mostly ex-Patrol, and with the Order's jump boats and the Striker, acting as their tender, I was on my way to Boscone when we were ambushed. As I'm sure you can imagine, it is extremely unlikely that we could've been ambushed in passage without our enemies knowing the exact time of our departure and our exact destination. While I don't know for certain, it's likely that Despar has also hired some of our services as well. As I said, I suspect that someone high up in the Order with personal ties to an agent working for Despar must've tipped the agent off about my mission and given him or her enough information to arrange an ambush. I can think of no other explanation. In any event, I am, you see, still alive and still honor bound to perform the services I've been hired to do, at any cost. Thus, my rather insistent invitation to this little chat. Since the six Despar ships that jumped us did not kill me and my crew, I've no excuse not to get my crew to Boscone as expeditiously as possible. Which means, in essence, your ship.'

'Sorry, I've no intention of involving my ship in this drift war.'

'It's your duty to take that ChequeToken to Tallith Min, my dear Litang. It is actually her ship, after all, and I'm sure you know your duty. Tell her it's a charter fee to carry my pilots, support crew and skip fighters to Boscone. That's all you have to do. We'll use your cargo holds as our operational base in passage and we'll actively escort your ship the whole way in. You'll be the safest ship in all the drifts, Captain. You may well see action during our approach to the Boscone Reef, but it'll but only at a safe distance. My pilots and fighters can handle anything Despar has about the reef and keep them well at bay. We can handle anything Despar can throw against us anywhere.'

'What of your damaged ship? Talk is cheap, D'Lay.'

He scowled. 'Point taken, Captain. Still, at six regular Despar navy vessels to one, Captain Krajik's Striker and my fighters when launched made a respectable showing. Truth is we hadn't expected to be attacked that far from Boscone and I didn't have my fighters deployed. My mistake. I've learned from it. My fighters will be deployed the whole voyage. We have our own living quarters, a double container fitted as the crew quarters and control center, so you'll not have to put up with us in any way besides carrying us in your cargo hold. We can fit all eight fighters, the crew quarters in one hold and use a second for the munition containers,' he said, and took a sip of cha.

'Munitions too...'

'And lots of them. We'll keep you quite safe...' he said with a smile.

I picked up the cup before me and took a sip of cha, thinking hard. There was something wrong. If this was the ad hoc option he was making it out to be, he knew too much about us.

'How did you know my owner's name?' I asked, watching him.

He smiled. 'Oh I've read the reports of a mutual acquaintance.'

'And who would that be?' but even as I asked it began to dawn on me.

'Sister Naylea Cin, though I believe you know her as Nadine,' he said, enjoying my awakening alarm.

'Your sister...'

'Only in the order. She's also a member of the Order of Saint Bleyth just as I am. Different branch of martial arts. I'm a tactician, Cin is a stealth. We come from different families and have different specialties. My family's mostly known for our military specialists. I'm an expert in space battles. Her family's famous for their solo agents who specialize is spying, theft, assassinations, and other stealthy things. Other families in the martial arts specialize in weapons, technology, economics, or logistics. Of course we've a full range of specialties; scientists, engineers, philosophers, farmers, and artists, but we in the martial arts rather look down on them. Quite the snobs, we are.'

'How could you think I'm crazy enough to have anything to do with some Order that's trying to kill me – and my owner? I'd be mad to do that.'

'Actually, it's in your best interest. I've a priority interest in you. My need trumps Cin's. It is a bit awkward for me to be hiring you while another branch of my Order is trying to kill you, but there are very mixed lines running all though this conflict. I'm almost certainly facing brothers or sisters in the Order hired by Despar – who are not above cheating... While I can do nothing about Cin and her orders, I can, and will, do everything in my power to keep you safe – for my purposes.'

'Taking you on board to meet my owner, given what you've just told me is not going to lift.'

'If I was any danger to you or your owner, why would I mention it at all? I needn't have, you know.'

'Pure arrogance would be my first guess,' I muttered, but let it pass for the moment. I had other questions of a more pressing nature, 'Who hired this Cin, and why?'

He shrugged, 'I've no idea. And couldn't say if I did. Sister Cin doesn't know either. Those are matters settled by the Masters of the Monastery, far above us simple brothers and sisters. It doesn't matter. She's been assigned to kill you and your owner or die trying. It's as simple as that. She doesn't need to know for whom. I, on the other hand, need you and your owner's willing service, so that I'll be doing everything I can to protect you while you're under my charter. That in itself is worth something, ol'dear.'

I didn't believe that for a moment, but let it pass unchallenged, just in case he wasn't lying. I took a sip of cha and tried to find a clear course.

'She was good, you know,' he continued after another sip of his cha. 'Cin was once considered one of the very best and brightest of our young stealth talents. She wouldn't have been sent to work in the Unity if she wasn't. Only the best are sent there, given how very hard it is to do her type of work successfully within the Unity. But you rather wrecked her career, Willy. One failure is, well, tolerated. A second or a third is something else... Having failed to kill you three times has likely put an end to her career as a prime agent. Oh, she's still on the assignment – just as a lesson – but even if she succeeds, and that seems unlikely in the foreseeable future,' he smiled, 'I rather doubt she'll be used again for anything more than a hired out enforcer for some gang in the Unity underworld...at best,' he took another sip of cha. 'A shame, really.'

'I'd wish her a far direr fate than that,'

He smiled and shrugged, 'That'll be up to you or your owner, should she ever catch up with you.'

He paused and added, 'I find her failure very unexpected. We attended the academy together, so I know her well. She was very, very good, the best. Clever, daring, ruthless, a perfect Stealth. Naylea Cin never met a rule she didn't dare to break. From the age of eleven, when she entered the academy, until she graduated ten years later, there wasn't a rule she didn't break or bend out of recognition. She was quite the hero of our class... For a while, anyway.'

'You forgot to mention her love of cruelty. That'd hardly win friends, even in your Order.'

'Ah, yes, have a taste of it, did you? But you're right, of course. She did rather have a taste for pain, though we didn't realize that at first. The thing was that she was always willing to take anyone along on her adventures outside the rules, and we were all eager enough to join her, knowing her reputation for success. But well, sometimes her plans may've been too daring and would go adrift. Culprits would be caught. All except Cin, that is. Things never got so far adrift that she was caught. No, not in all her years in the academy. Oh, our masters knew what she was up to, most of it anyway, but they never could catch her at it. For the rest of us, that was a different story. Our code of honor prevented us from tattling on Cin, even though some of us suspected that sometimes things went wrong more or less by design, leaving us, but never Cin, to pay for those misadventures with a taste of the lash.

'Ah, the days of our youth, stripped to the waist in the Academy Square waiting to take our punishment in the cold morning air in front of all our classmates, while Cin, ever so innocently stood amongst them – serious faced, but with laughing eyes – never stepping forward to declare her part in the infraction. To be fair, those were her terms and we all agreed to them at the outset, but still, that didn't make the pain any more pleasant, for us anyway.

'Early on our masters tried a little trick. They made Cin administer the punishment for the misfired adventure she'd led her fellow students on, or into... I suppose our masters hoped to be able to issue some sort of reprimand for going lightly on her comrades in misadventure. Little did they know. I think she ended up with a warning for laying into them too enthusiastically. Cin always enjoyed punishment. Ours anyway. So as you suggested, little wonder she had no friends by the time we graduated.

'But enough old school gossip. You, my dear Captain Litang, have done what no one else had been able to do until now. You've set her plans adrift and there's no one to take the lash but her. She's honor bound to follow you and Min across the Nebula until she kills you or dies trying,' he shook her head. 'Even now, she'll be making her way here, somehow, or to wherever she thinks you might turn up next...' He smiled at the thought and looked me in the eyes and said simply, 'I owe you something for that Litang, if only this advice, if you ever have the chance, kill her. Don't hesitate for a second – it will be in self-defense, even if you strike first – as indeed, you should, if you hope to succeed. If you've any desire to live, you must kill her, for she'll kill you and your owner if you don't. And I should add that you'd best use several lethal darts as well. Some stealths have D-matter nano-wires and capacitors implanted in their bodies to absorb a portion of the plasma dart's electrical charge, rendering lethal darts, non-lethal and non-lethal ones much less effective. And if your Unity Standard ethics give you pause, just know that you might actually be doing her a favor by killing her, the Order is not sympathetic to failure.'

'I've little incentive to do her a favor, but I do want to live. Still, even if I kill her, wouldn't it just mean that the Order would send out another assassin in her place... If they haven't done so already?' I added, giving him a hard glare.

He shrugged. 'Yes. Maybe. It is hard to say. Those matters are decided by our Masters within the various operational directorates. They might decide to cut their losses at having lost the reliable services of a first class operative and having to chase you across the nebula and just return the client's retainer, but it's not my bailiwick so I can't really say. '

'Which brings us around to your bailiwick. You're a member of the same organization. How can I trust you not to do Cin a favor when the time is right?'

'First off, I'm not involved with that side of our business. As I said, it's neither my department nor concern. Nor is it the type of job I care to do. I'm a soldier, not an assassin. The fact of the matter is that it might be my protection that's keeping you alive.'

'How so?'

'Can't claim to know that for a fact, but I do know that my assignment is far more lucrative to the Monastery than your assassination, so that my need of your services has priority over any assassination. Cin is likely still in transit somewhere as far as I know, but here in the drifts, the bar is considerably lower when it comes to things like assassination. You don't need an agent of Cin's caliber to do the job in the drifts. And you've been here long enough to have been targeted if our Masters had wanted you, and your owner killed. Still, you're not out of danger, there are likely plenty of people here who would love to put a spanner in my assignment, and killing you would be one way.'

'You're not making me feel very comfortable.'

'I don't want you comfortable, I want you on guard constantly. However, I need you and your services, so I'll try my best to keep you safe.'

Until you no longer need me, I thought, but only said, 'I'd appreciate that, especially since most of those people who might want me dead, want me dead only because it might put a spanner in your assignment.'

He grinned. 'True. It's a tangled web we weave. You see, Captain, since we hire out our services to all, to maintain our reputation we must containerize each of our obligations. In large scale conflict, like the current drift war, we likely have operatives working on both sides of the conflict and if thrust comes to blast, we may have to deal a lethal blow to a fellow brother or sister of the Order. Hopefully, it would be no one we know well, but that's in the hands of fate and the Masters of the Monastery. As I said, I wouldn't be surprised to discover that not only was the ambush arranged by a brother or sister of St Bleyth, but that the Despar ships were commanded by another tactician of St Bleyth. Moreover, I'm certain that Despar has operatives on Zilantre – likely many of them since Zilantre's a hot bed of intrigue – who may also be under the direction of another stealth of St Bleyth. That's why I went to such distasteful lengths to hide my presence here,' he indicated the discarded grey wig with a little wave of his hand. 'I can be quite dashing in red hair and heels, but, I didn't care to call attention to myself this time. So it was all low key, and well, rather abrupt and rude as well. Knowing just how good we are and how likely some of my brethren are operating here, I didn't care to take chances with your life or mine by making a scene.'

A cross dressing tactician was likely to draw attention, red hair or not, I thought. Still his rather elegant mannerism did little to hide the icy steel in his eyes. So I contented myself with a question. 'You know a great deal about Min and me. How did you come by this if that operation isn't in your bailiwick?'

'As I mentioned, my assignment has a high priority, so as soon as I arrived two days ago, I communicated my plight, urgency, and my proposed response – chartering the Lost Star. The Monastery felt that releasing faithful Cin's damning reports of her encounters with you might offer some insight into gaining your cooperation.'

I laughed, 'And did it? I can't see any special touch you used, unless it was using a stun dart to get me to somewhere for a quiet talk. That seems to be the one standard procedure.'

He shrugged and smiled, 'Perhaps. But Cin had you in bed, my dear Captain. I've only had you up for a cup of cha... Be that as it may, I may've been a little too free with all the tattle I've dished about Cin, but I'd rather have all that on the table – and, mind you, just between us – than for you to find out about our connection in some other manner. I hope you'll appreciate how up-front I've been about this particularly awkward situation and by being so, gain your complete confidence.'

I nodded, 'It has been informative,' I offered guardedly.

He shrugged. 'Enough of this pleasant chit-chat, unless you'd like another cup of cha, or have more questions, I'd like to get you on your way. You know all you need to know for now, and the less disruption there is in your routine, the safer we'll all be. Let me say again, you do need to be very careful from here on. I'd advise you to stay aboard your ship if you can. If word gets out that I've been here, my enemies will certainly suspect that it's your ship I need and take appropriate action. But then, that's what I'm paying so handsomely for.'

I looked down on the ChequeToken. Owners don't turn that type of credit down, not ones with an engine that needed to be relined. I sighed, and looked up. 'Do I have your word on your honor, and that of Saint Bleyth, that you will not kill Tallith Min or me, or turn us over to this Cin to do the job?'

'Yes, and I'll go further, I'll do everything in my power to keep you alive not only until we reach Boscone but long enough for you to make your escape, even if means trouble with my Masters. I suspect I'll be under pressure of some sort once I've reached Boscone, but I'll see you off safely. I've no love for Cin and no obligation to help her. Plus, I may well've been betrayed somewhere high up in the Order, perhaps by one of the Masters, which is something completely out of order, so I'll defy them if needed to allow you to clear Boscone,' he said. 'But once out of my protection, you're on your own.'

I nodded. Well, it'd not be my decision in the end. 'I suppose I must take your proposal to Min. I assure you I will do my damn best to convince her to sail to Aticor hollow, though I doubt I'll succeed.'

'I rather doubt it myself,' he said with a smile. 'But don't worry – if you can survive Cin, you'll get to Boscone and back to the Unity without trouble.'

'I was lucky.' I said standing to leave.

'That works. Or perhaps it was a matter of karma. Yours over hers,' he replied, handing my darter clips over to me. I slotted it back into my darter and slipped it back into its pocket.

'I rather doubt assassins have a great deal of karma, so if it was a matter of karma, assassins would never succeed.'

'But then they'd have more karma,' laughed D'Lay, who grew serious. 'Now Captain, I've taken every precaution I know to keep my presence here and this meeting secret. But if my opposite number – whoever it may be – has reasons to suspect you're about to aid Despar's enemies, you and your crews' lives are in danger. I'd advise you to put an end to all shore leave and depart for Aticor hollow just as soon as you can clear. Head out and operate under power for one day. I'll rendezvous with you five days out and lead you to the Striker...'

'How can I contact you?'

'Don't. I'll know when you sail and when you deposit that ChequeToken in your account, and take it as a yes to my proposal. I'll follow you out to make the rendezvous...'

I nodded and headed for the door, followed by a smiling Captain D'Lay. As I reached the door, I felt a sudden need to make a point. I spun half about and grabbed him by his coat and pulled him close. His eyes widened just a little and grew cold.

'Just so we have an understanding. If anyone of my crew suffers as a result of this meeting, I'm holding you responsible. I'll hire your best friend, your lover if you have one, to kill you. Trust me, D'Lay, I can afford whatever it takes to make that happen. I'm a dead man, and you'll be joining me. No unexpected ambushes no screw ups, this time,' I added fiercely. I pushed him away, and slipped out the door, between his two hulking crew members. I was shaking as I walked down the stairs, through the scented court yard and out of the joy house to find myself in a dim lane just off the busy Strand. Still, I found that even I can be pushed too hard.

### Chapter 55 On to Boscone

01

Min stared off into the dark drifts through the view-panel in the bulkhead for several minutes after I'd finished presenting Captain D'Lay's proposal. I'd called them back from shore leave as soon as I reached the gig, and we were now sitting in her office. I let her think. I'd told her all, including St Bleyth's involvement in her assassination attempt. (Though not about my duel, or my issues with St Bleyth. She seemed content to remain a pilot aboard the ship for the present, and I didn't want that to jeopardize that attitude.) It struck me that D'Lay hadn't mentioned any involvement of St Bleyth in the assassination of her parents. I'd have to ask D'Lay about that. That hadn't quite worked either...

At last she turned to me and said simply. 'Your advice, Captain.'

Her eyes, as usual, revealed nothing of her thoughts, but I suspected she was just going through the motions. 'What I'd like to do, or what I think possible?' I asked, just to play the game. This was her decision and we both knew it.

'I believe I know what you'd like to do,' she said with the faintest of smiles. 'So let's go with what you think is possible.'

I sighed. 'I think we don't have a choice. Even if I turned a blind eye to the ship's finances. I did some quick research. St Bleyth does exist as D'Lay described it. They even have an agent here in CityOne to handle their business. I doubt that we presented many obstacles to an assassin since our arrival, so we actually may be still on this side of the event horizon because of D'Lay's need for our services. And given their expertise, and need, I've been sitting here nursing a growing suspicion that Captain D'Lay may not shy away from piracy, if it proves necessary to accomplish his task,' I said and paused, adding, 'To be fair, he never so much as hinted that was an option, which, the more I think about it, that in itself may be telling...' I shrugged. 'I miss Azminn and our old customers. None of them would think of cutting our throats...'

Min smiled again. I'm far from certain she shared my feelings on that score. 'Then you suggest we take the credits and hope they're all the fighter pilots as they claim to be.'

'If there was a safer course, I'd argue it until I was blue in the face, but I don't see one.'

'Nor I. It is, however, a seventeen million credit ChequeToken. I never expect to see many of them. It dulls the sting of our plight wonderfully' said Min giving the token just resting on her desk a little push with her forefinger, sending it slowly tumbling my way. 'Please deposit it.'

'Right,' I said, lazily snatching it out of the air.

02

We sailed hollow two days later for Aticor on our cut-down engine. We'd found a set of D-Steel braces actually designed to reinforced our engine's unconventional mounting. It seems that replacing worn out engines with smaller ones due to a lack of availability and/or the available credit balance is a common practice in the drifts, so the ship repair yards had braces on hand designed to fit shorter engines into our engine size slot which could be adopted for our use. Riv and the staff adopted a set to secure our engine, so I no longer had any concerns about our engine mounting. Our engine performance curve took a hit being cut down, but handling it had become second nature, so leaving it as is was not a concern. Plus, I'd have a great deal more confidence in repairs done in the Unity than anything done in the drifts, so I didn't mind putting off repairs until then.

Only Min and I knew our true course as we set out, but like Min, the gang took the news of our actual destination stoically. Most of the old spaceers knew of the Order of Saint Bleyth and their mercenary prowess, so when I mentioned D'Lay's remark about how we'd be the safest ship in the drifts they agreed – with reservations, perhaps. Still, if anyone was overly concerned, they didn't show it. They may place too much trust in my well known propensity for caution and my supposed influence on our owner. I could only hope that trust wasn't misplaced, especially since they didn't know the half of it.

Four days later found the hounds and I waiting on the landing stage to greet Captain D'Lay's long boat as it slowly approached our extended gangplank. He'd had his boat decelerating hard for the last several hours to match our velocity. As the boat slipped into the lock on to our gangplank I turned to the hounds at my side and gave them the standard strict orders to be on their best behavior and stay – you got that? Stay – as the safety door-panel slid open. I stepped onto to the gangplank as D'Lay swung out and landed lightly on gangplank deck. With his long wine dark auburn hair tied back and wearing an elegant silver and black uniform designed to fit his slim form, he looked young, casually confident, and commanding.

'Welcome aboard the Lost Star, Captain D'Lay,' I said, taking his offered hand. He smiled with his ram you, damn you look, and studied me.

'Thank you Captain. Good of you to have me on board. Let's make it simply D'Lay, unless you're all that formal aboard.'

'You'll find little formality aboard this ship, D'Lay. I'm Wil. We've a cabin prepared for you, and I'll find accommodations for your boat crew, as well.'

'Excellent. Don't worry about my boat crew – I'm sending them ahead to get things moving aboard the Striker. We can use the next two days to hammer out the details of the operation. Time is of the essence....' at which point Astro and Orbit's best behavior reached their limit and they started looping forward to welcome our guest.

'Sorry. They're just dumb and friendly,' I said snagging their collars before they could do too much slobbering. 'You see, we're not very formal at all.'

He flashed me a smile, whipping his cheek. 'So I see, Wil. But I'm very fond of dogs,' he said, crouching to meet the mutts at their eye level while dodging most of their kisses for a few moments.

'I'll take you to see our owner.'

'Lead on.'

In the well going up, I said quietly, 'I've told her about the Order's involvement in the attempt on her life. As a favor, I'd rather you keep my own encounters a secret.'

'And why is that, Wil?'

'Simply a matter of do as I say, not as I do. I need to get about and I can hardly keep Min wrapped in security and go and about doing my job as usual. I've met your Cin and can recognize her. Min hasn't.'

D'Lay gave me a weighing glance and nodded. 'Fair enough. Wouldn't want it known that you were in bed with the enemy...'

'I wasn't...'

He smiled brighter.

'Not in that way.'

'Well that's what Cin's report says, but still – blackmail can be useful, Wil...'

I said nothing further. I wasn't going to win that one.

Once I introduced D'Lay to Min in her office, I was struck by how much they seemed alike, different sexes, different features, but still, they almost could be brother and sister, sharing a certain daring attitude, and a certain ruthless drive. I wasn't certain if that was good or not. I'd a feeling I'd not want to find out, either. Hopefully D'Lay would be busy enough with his own crew that we could get by the next month or two of our charter without finding out.

The charter agreement was signed, necessary arrangements were quickly agreed to, and our course was changed to rendezvous with the Striker.

03

I wiggled through the narrow entry hatch and wormed my way up into the cockpit of the Omni-V jump fighter. 'What seat should I take?' I called back to D'Lay, following me in.

'Your choice.'

I settled into the port position, as D'Lay squeezed past me to take the other one. 'Nice and cozy,' I remarked as I settled in, the seat all but enclosed me.

He flashed me his always ready smile, empty of anything more than the efficient pursuit of his mission.

'Wait until you're completely enclosed in the harness. It takes some getting used to...' he said. 'But let's go through the check list and launch before we engage the full cocoon.'

We were fourteen days out of Zilantre and if all went as charted, twenty-seven days from Boscone Reef. We'd rendezvoused with the Striker five days after he had joined us. We were met by the Striker's full force of eight jump fighters. They were taking no chances, this time. Communication was only line-of-sight lasers, so they came out ready for battle. Their ship had remained on course for Boscone so that we'd not have a great deal of maneuvering to do to come alongside, and transfer D'Lay's forces to the Lost Star.

The Striker looked, at first glance, very similar to a freighter like the Lost Star in size and appearance. Closer inspection showed that it had two large turret missile batteries in place of our no.1 hold. It also showed a lot of dents and scars, with a large hole aft. I had to wonder what the losers looked like. Probably thinning clouds of small pieces. Its two remaining holds were fitted – for this operation anyway – with a modular docking structure for the eight jump fighters, a control room, and crew quarters built into standard shipping containers. D'Lay said that everything in the hold was secured by standard docking bars so that different operational setups could be installed depending upon the mission. In this case, it meant that the modules could be broken down into sections, removed and re-installed in our holds using the ship's freight cranes with a great deal of expediency. Because we still had no. 2 and no. 3 holds combined from transporting the guard boats, we were able to transfer and reinstall the whole jump boat instillation over the course of five watches. Less than two days after arriving alongside the Striker we were ready to set out to break the siege of Boscone Reef.

The ambush of the Striker was a clear signal that D'Lay's group had lost any element of strategic surprise, so in order to gain a little tactical surprise upon our arrival, we set out on a dog leg course so that we would approach the Boscone reef 45 degrees off of what a direct course would have us arriving at. A longer voyage, but if D'Lay felt it safer, I was all for it.

Five days after leaving the battered Striker behind, D'Lay had, having heard of my love of rocket boats, he claimed, offered to introduce me to an Omni-V jump fighter. I accepted with somewhat mixed feelings, since I wasn't sure what his real reason was. Still, it would be another old spaceer claimed yarn someday.

An Omni-V jump fighter is designed for maximum maneuverability in a minimum of time. It has a slim fuselage, just wide enough for two pilots to sit side by side in the cockpit with a large fuel tank aft. Its engines are mounted mid-ship at right angles to the fuselage, extending like barbells on either side of the fuselage. The barbell part houses five rocket nozzles facing in four directions and one straight out. The output of the rocket engines can be shunted between one or two of these nozzles nearly instantly, essentially making the boat's main engines, its steering engines, able to instantly send it off in any direction. Circling fuselage, barbell to barbell, is a broad ring that houses the micro-missile launch tubes and missile magazines. The Omni-V fighter is not built for extreme speed, but rather extreme maneuverability – limited only by the endurance of the human pilots – which makes it nearly impossible to track and hit with ship to ship missiles.

Larger rocket ships can carry more, bigger and longer range missiles, but they can alter their course only marginally in the time frame of a missile attack, so their course is very predictable and easy to target. This makes their anti-missile screens their only effective defense from hyper-speed anti-ship missiles. For this reason, D'Lay had the Striker's remaining military grade anti-missiles transferred to the Lost Star since even our newly enhanced anti-meteor missiles would not have protected us from a determined attack of hyper-speed missiles which Despar was known to deploy.

The Omni-V, commonly referred to as a jump fighter, utilizes its hyper-maneuverability to dodge most anti-ship/anti-missile missiles, and its own anti-missile missiles to destroy those it can't evade, as it closes in on enemy ships to destroy their missile batteries, engines or even the ship with their limited stock of more powerful, anti-ship missiles. Since in this conflict they'd likely be facing standard merchant ships pressed into service, the eight jump fighters we were carrying represented a military force that could inflict serious damage on Despar's makeshift fleet. D'Lay thought it could tip the whole balance of power in this drift war once they reached Despar's most powerful opponent, the planet and asteroid reef of Boscone.

D'Lay carefully backed us out of the boat deck davit that he'd brought the boat around to for this flight.

'Com link synced. Time to get comfy, my dear. The red button will tuck you into the full cocoon. Your arms fit in the recessed slots here and here,' he said pointing, as the seat began to close in around me, to hold every part of me absolutely still.

'You may experience a brief spell of claustrophobia as you get tucked in, but it will pass,' he continued. 'Humans are the frailest part of an Omni-V, and we need to be treated with as much care as possible. All the controls are at your fingertips...'

I'm not claustrophobic as a rule, but as the seat sealed me in, letting me only move my fingers, I'll admit to feeling a bit panicked. 'Is this really necessary?'

'Yes. Take a deep breath or two. You'll be fine. It's necessary since the vector changes can be so great that not only would they fling any part of you not sealed in, but some will be drastic enough to make you unconscious even in the cocoon. The Patrol cheats a bit on Unity laws and allows the ship itself to manage its affairs when you black out. These ships are copies the Order reconstructed from captured wreckage long ago, but they work as well or better than the Patrol versions since we've added AI technology to make them even more autonomous. We're less picky about Unity robotic laws in the drifts. These boats will evade hostile missiles on their own. You should not interfere with that function. It'll do it far more efficiently and safely than you ever can. Your job as pilot is to work your boat close enough to your target ship to allow it to deliver your missiles into a selected target ship at a range too close for them to effectively respond. Usual targets are the ship's defensive tubes to suppress their counter fire, the engine room, or the crew section if you want reduce the ship but salvage the cargo, or you can simply go for the fuel tanks or the rocket tubes if you want them out of the way entirely.'

'Right. Are your services in great demand?'

'The drifts are vast, Wil. Hundreds of billions of people spread across millions of rocks, from vast reefs of asteroids to moons and planetoids up to planets like Zilantre. The Unity downplays our importance, and generally turns a blind eye to what accounts for 80 percent of the Nine Star Nebula, at least publicly. But there's a whole lot of activity throughout the deep drifts, a constant churn of people, wealth and ambitions which often sparks violent struggles. Still, we usually see hot action only every couple of years, so training, or deployment as a deterrent, fills a lot of our time. Most of my pilots are freelance, but reliable, adding with a smile, 'They know the price of betrayal.'

'Ever go freelance yourself, just to keep busy?' I asked, just talking my way to some sort of calm.

'You mean turn pirate?'

'Well, that's what we'd call it in the Unity, but I gather that's just business and the risk of doing business in the drifts. At least for some.'

'Everyone's a potential future customer and it'd reflect poorly on the mission of our Order if we went about building an empire of our own, so no. We're experts for hire with no stakes in the games beyond our fee. So now are you ready?'

'I suppose so. How do you fly this contraption?'

'Hang on and I'll show you,' he said, adding as we shot up like an express elevator and then forward, the heavy hand of inertia pushing me this way and that, 'And don't worry, the ship monitors your condition and keeps you in tip top form.'

We took everything at half speed, or so he'd like me to believe and when it came to my turn to fly it, I kept everything at a quarter speed. We went out to the sentry boat and using low powered laser cannons, played a game of tag to show me how they fought these boats. Even with the boat helping, I was pretty bad, though I eventually found it to be interesting. A rocket boat is a rocket boat, even if it has its engines installed sideways.

We were drifting off the Lost Star's boat deck two hours later as the seats released us from their grasp when he said, 'Some of your crew have expressed an interest in flying these boats. I told them I'd have to clear it with you first.'

'Ah' I thought, as I looked across at him in the dim display lit cockpit. 'Are we naming names?'

'Tallith, Vyn, Ten and Molaye. 'No mysteries, people who like to fly rockets.'

'And your honest reaction?'

'I'd like to take them up on it. We could use the help. Not to fight, mind you, that's far too specialized and dangerous. Just as picket pilots. A three-hour watch per day. I'd like to keep my crew as fresh as possible for the real show, and if I could use several of your people on picket duty each day, it'd help a lot. We'd train them, of course, but if anything that might be unfriendly should appear, I'd scramble my crew and get your crew's boat in. Neither of us wants to lose a pilot, or a boat. I don't think we'd be risking their lives doing routine picket duty. And I know you can spare'em when not under power, and they'd be contributing to everyone's safety... So what do you say?'

'Is it my decision? I don't really think the owner needs my permission.'

'She felt it falls within your bailiwick. An operational decision.'

I considered the implications. It made sense, I suppose.

'I'm not going to tell Tallith what to do, and since both Vyn and Ten are ex-Patrol, I'm sure they'd be a welcome addition to your force. I believe they've done some training on jump boats... So the only one I'll not let you have is Molaye. She's too young, too inexperienced.'

'I understand, but I have to say that she really wants to do it and, I gather, a natural pilot,' said D'Lay, adding with a grin, 'So I'll leave it to you to tell her.'

'Thanks.'

04

Molaye didn't take it well. I'd asked her to step around to my office after her watch. Moon born and raised, she's usually elegantly willowy, but when she's angry, she gets ram rod straight and towering. She was angry now. 'Why?' she snapped glaring down at me, adding 'Captain,' only reluctantly, angry at herself for adding it at all. For a junior pilot, she gets awful bold. The trouble is that she knows me too well.

'To start with, because I say so.'

'My dad used to say that too. It didn't wash then. And you're not my dad.'

'No, I'm not. I'm your captain, pilot Merlun, so it will work for me. This is a Guild ship and unless you've fallen in love with the drifts, you'll do well to remember that. And, while we're on the subject, you might do well to remember who I am and what I can do for your career,' I shot back, in mostly mock anger. I must admit to admiring her spirit. I didn't have to put up with it often, so I let the occasional lapses of good judgment slide.

She almost let the smile cross her lips, but caught it before it left her eyes. She pivoted in an instant, 'Sorry, sir. But I've my heart set on piloting a jump fighter. Please, Captain. You know I love rockets, and speed. I'm certain I can handle them... This is likely my only chance in my whole life! Can I do it? Please.'

'I'm sure you'd be able to fly'em like a pro in no time. It's not that...'

'Then what is it? Sir?'

I sighed. 'It's nothing to do with flying, Molaye. It has to do with using them. They're designed to kill people. And I feel that you're too young to kill people. If you want to do that, you'll need to sign on with the Patrol or Captain D'Lay's group. But I think you'd be wise to stay a tramp ship pilot.'

'But we're not going to killing anyone. We're not even allowed in a battle. It's just for boring old patrol duty...'

'Right. Right up until we get jumped on by a dozen ships out of a drift and all bets are off. Or when their pilots are too battered or worn out to fight. They'll ask for volunteers and then it'll be kill or be killed. I don't want you to be in that position. Your dad made Captain Miccall promise to keep you out of danger when he arranged for your apprenticeship aboard us...'

She grinned. She was racing rocket sleds at the time, and her parents had arranged her apprenticeship with Captain Miccall. She agreed only reluctantly, but had settled smoothly into the life of a tramp ship pilot. Still, more than a trace of that "rockets away" racing pilot clung to Molaye.

'Plus, I think you don't really want to be a fighter pilot, you just want to go fast...'

She looked away. 'I do want to go fast, Captain. And it looks like so much fun... But if I'm needed to defend my shipmates and my ship, I want to be able to do so. Please, can I just learn how to fly them?'

The problem was, and I knew this from the get-go, that I couldn't deny Molaye anything, within reason. She's my first protégé. And she is so good with rockets, well machines really, a natural. I really couldn't deny her this opportunity to fly these rare and special rockets.

I sighed. 'Alright, just flying. No fighting. When things get iffy, you won't be flying. Ten and Vyn are old pros, so I won't tell them not to go out, and Min is my boss, so I can't tell her not to. But with you, I can, and will. And I don't want to hear a word, or get one of your looks when I ground you. Understood?'

She flashed me her winning smile, 'Thanks Skipper! You're a dear – just like my dad!'

And just as malleable.

I met D'Lay in the bistro and told him of my decision and my restrictions on Molaye. 'And I want your promise you'll not put her in the rotation if there's any danger at all.'

'I'll promise not to put her in. If it should just happen, I'll do everything I can to see that she has every chance to get out of it. More than that, I can't promise, Willy. You realize we're facing a lot of unknowns... That ambush has put us on notice – things may be more challenging that we'd anticipated. And there's nothing we can do about it.'

'Now you tell me. Well, sign me up too. You'll put Molaye in only over my dead body...'

'Fair enough. Should it come to that, I'm certain I'd not be able to keep her out of an operational boat.'

05

Rafe found the first bogey on the edge of our long range radar two days later. It was far out of the range of our jump fighters and though it closed with us over the next several watches, it stayed outside the operational range of D'Lay's jump fighters. No doubt it had been on picket duty, since on first contact it had been only slowly coasting in the direction of Boscone, but with our appearance, it fired its rockets to build up just enough of a velocity to pace us and was now stalking us. Clearly, we were not only expected, but Despar had enough ships on hand to put out a wide enough picket screen to nullify our dog-leg approach.

After I'd finished a two-hour session of jump fighter training and docked the fighter in its dock in the cargo hold operations center, I stopped by Captain D'Lay's small, bare office for his take on the shadowing pickets.

If he was concerned, he wasn't showing it. He sat back in his chair, resting on his hands at the back of his head. 'Surprise plays no part in my plans, Willy. The ambush of the Striker knocked that idea on its head. I know you want to stay well clear of the battle, and without the element of surprise, it would be prudent to assess the tactical situation before I commit my forces, so I'm pretty much of the same mind. Boscone's Reef is quite large, has several wide passages and we've a good chart of it. At last report they still controlled nearly all of it, so if we can align our approach properly, we can hit a passage and can come in hot and fast, blow past any Despar blockade and put off our final decel until we're safely within the reef. With my fighters escorting your ship in, most likely facing mostly merchant raiders, I don't anticipate any problems making Boscone. Once there, your job is done,' he added, daring me to challenge that.

'I'm less certain than you are about those merchant raiders. But why couldn't Despar have hired mercenary jump fighters of their own, or even mercenary warships? You've said that there are other mercenaries available, and well, come to think of it, they could just as easily be St Bleyth mercenaries, which, if I'm to accept you at face value, are nothing to be scoffed at. Plus, I seem to recall the captains back on Zilantre mentioning that Despar had a professional navy of its own.'

He shrugged, 'The Despar Navy consists of eighteen small frigates, or did until they met the Striker. Probably only fifteen are operational now, plus several dozen smaller vessels, thirty meter ships at most, and they're threatening or attacking several dozen drift settlements within several aus of Despar. They've stretched their forces thin in an effort to get big and powerful fast – before anyone else can mount an effective challenge to them. We could take on six of their small frigates, and they can't spare more than several for Boscone alone. And I assure you, as far as I know, my jump fighter wing is the only one within a 100 aus of Despar, and by far the best in the drifts. Anything is possible in the Neb, but I can't imagine we'll find anything we can't take on and win.'

'And I'd imagine there's a St Bleyth tactician on the Despar's flagship telling much the same thing to the Despar admiral as we speak; "Eight little jump fighters are no threat, sir, short ranged and they burn through pilots – my frigates can deal with them and extinguish Boscone's last hope."'

He laughed. 'That's exactly what I'd be saying...if I had several St Bleyth frigates at my command. Still I'd be surprised if there's Bleyth ships in the in the Despar fleet off Boscone. A tactician yes, a ship or ships, no. Of course that's just a feeling I have. We'll just have to see...'

'How likely is it that we could be facing St Bleyth frigates? That seems, well rather hard on the members of the Order, not to mention being wasteful. Are there that many of you that the Order can afford to expend at least half their agents in any conflict fighting each other even if it doubles its profit?'

He shrugged. 'I don't know. Those types of calculations are made by the Masters of the Monastery. But, you see, many of our services – the non-combat ones – are in constant demand. Our various experts are often engaged as advisers, or hired on retainer, to be called on as needed. Our combat services, like mine, can go for years, just training without ever seeing combat. In the often tangled affairs of the drift, our advisers and trainers are hired out to many rivals. It's only when things go Bang! – like they have now – that these tangled arrangements may result in brothers and sisters of the Order actually fighting each other. I've no idea how big a client Despar is, but because it and its allies have made such a bold and far-ranging play for power against the major powers in the quarter of the Myzar Drift, I'm certain the Order is deeply involved in every aspect of the conflict, and on both sides.

'That said, I think it very unlikely that our Masters would take on an obligation that would inevitably result in the destruction of the Order's jump fighter wing and several of their own frigates as well. As you point out, it simply wouldn't pay to deploy such resource intensive investments like jump fighters and frigates against each other. However, advisers and other support resources would be another matter. I'd not be surprised if a brother or sister of the Order would be in charge of handling the siege of Boscone. Still he or she would be working with the cobbled together material at hand, so I'm not very worried. It's all rather strange, I know, but we have, after all, been providing these services for the better part of four hundred centuries, so it does all work out.'

'Since the founding?"

'Our legendary founder, Niclo Bleyth, is said to have come to the Nebula in one of the first settlement ships...'

'Legendary?'

He laughed. 'The half-life of even recorded facts is far less than forty thousand years, Wil. No one knows the half-life of legends.'

'I seemed to have run into several very old ones already. But you were saying that your Order's founder came on the founding ships...' I said, curious about this Order of Saint Bleyth.

'Aye, in those old days, there were always warriors aboard those first ships, and Niclo Bleyth was one of those. Even if we strip the veils of legends that now surround her, she must have had both a religious dimension and charisma about her, since her memory lingered long after her passing in both the spiritual and martial arts tradition. Eventually, the way the Unity evolved, their dedication to martial arts meant that the followers of her way had to migrate to the drifts in order to carry on with her, by then, legendary martial tradition. And so we have, for as long as the people have lived on the worlds of the Nine Star Nebula.'

'Where is the Order located, or is that a secret?'

'A deep and dark secret, I assure you. We have, of course, branch monasteries scattered about this quarter of the drift, but our Prime Monastery is a well-kept secret.'

'I'd imagine you've made enough bitter enemies over forty thousand years that some would have succeeded in finding it.'

'Many may have, but none have ever returned,' he laughed. 'The fact is that I've no idea where to find the Prime Monastery, even though I grew up in it. When we go out into the Neb, we go out in sleeper-pod and we don't return to the Monastery until we're recalled, usually well into middle age, past our prime as operatives and ready to settle down and to raise a new generation of brothers and sisters of Saint Bleyth.'

'Are there many of you, or is that a secret?'

'Compared to what, Wil? We are insignificant compared to most Unity worlds, but in the drifts, we're, oh, say on the order of Boscone or Despar, taking both exterior and interior members. Most of us are only lay brothers and sisters who live just as any drifteer does, mining, building, farming, creating art or any other occupation needed to make a viable society. We have scientist and scholars just like any well rounded society. Only a few are selected to the full martial order, and most of those come from a few hundred families that specialize in the martial arts.'

'Still, it must be hard to have kept it such a world secret for so long, especially one so involved with the affairs of the drift.'

'Not if the world is inside out, or outside in,' he replied with a sly grin.

I considered his hint. 'Ah, a hollow asteroid, or a moon?' Even a small moon, if hollow could house a world's full of people on its interior surface, its spin producing a pseudo-gravity on the surface. It'd have to have some source of light and heat, but those technologies are common in the First World systems.

He just shrugged. 'I'm giving nothing away when I say that there are millions and millions of large rocks or minor moons in the drifts that, if they were hollow, could house billions of people, without showing anything out of the ordinary at all. Quite frankly, our rivals have given up the quest as being too expensive to be worth it. And pointless. The nebula is vast, and there's work for us all on every planet, moon and rock in it.'

'It would seem you're right.'

'Ah, yes. I'm sorry, Wil. You were unfortunate, the wrong companion in the wrong place and time.'

'And my dear Leith, that's all there's to it. They must think I know something I certainly don't, and I believe I can say the same for Min. It seems a terrible waste of...well everything really. I'd think you can live in the Nine Star Nebula as you will, without killing people.'

'Well, I'd think so too...'

I gave him a look. 'But you don't live so.'

He shrugged. 'I am who I am, and who I was made to be. I was chosen and entered the Monastery's academy at the age of eleven. I've taken my sacred vows – think what you like of them,' he added when I waved a hand to discount them. 'And I'll live up to them. And when I've served my time, I'll settle down and live a peaceful life...'

'And raise a new generation of tacticians.'

He smiled. 'I rather doubt that.'

06

The following day we had another stalker in range and a likely third one at the extreme edge of our radar range. We were still three weeks away from the reefs of Boscone.

'An ambush and now three shadows three weeks out of Boscone? You're not a very popular fellow, D'Lay,' I said as he slipped into one of the chairs in my office.

He gave me a wicked grin. 'I'm so flattered. I never realized I was this dangerous.'

'So any change of plans? Cup of cha?'

'No, and no. I'm going over to my control station shortly. I'm just here to keep you briefed. I don't want you losing any sleep over these developments. Nothing in our plans depends on surprise anymore. So in and of itself, our shadows make no difference. And the latest intelligence I had before leaving Zilantre indicated that there were no major reinforcements outside of Boscone, so if they're using their ships as distant pickets, they would've had to reduce their forces deployed besieging Boscone, making our entrance that much easier.'

'But can you rely on your intelligence? You seem to have enemies within the upper levels of the Monastery,' I pointed out, adding, 'And if a St Bleyth tactician is directing their operations, you can't assume that they're being foolish using three ships for shadows.'

He shrugged. 'Could be a bluff. The thing is, Willy, I'd not be afraid to take on the whole Despar Navy with my wing. I don't see how this changes anything.'

'Yet they don't appear to be alarmed either, even knowing what you're bringing to the party. They're not bothering to hide the fact that they're waiting for you. Which, in turn suggests that you don't know something, something that gives them the confidence to show their hand so blatantly...'

'True. But, as I said, it might just be a bold front, a bluff. I believe my intel on Despar is solid and I don't know of anything in their fleet that can stand a chance against my eight jump fighters. I doubt they could afford more than a frigate or two – they lost two to me and several in their first bid for Boscone – for this operation. If they decide to try and crush us with sheer numbers, they're bound to lose so many ships that it would cripple their siege. Boscone is big, important, and rich. They just failed to capture it in one bold move early on in the war after luring all the CTC guard boats deep into the drifts with their raids on CTC mines and survey operations. They've no recourse now except to blockade and lay siege to the reef. You need a lot of ships to do that, so they can't spare too many on us without letting up on the siege. I think these stalkers are a bluff.'

'Not that it matters. You're going to go in against any odds,' I said, bitterly.

'I've my commission, my dear Wil. I don't have a lot of leeway.'

'You're making me nervous, D'Lay.'

He looked across at me. 'You didn't think I handed over seventeen million credits to escort me to a ball, did you?'

'No. I suppose not, but truth be told, a major reason why we accepted those credits is because we were pretty certain you wouldn't accept no for an answer.'

He gave me a sinister smile. 'Why Willy, just what type of people do you think you're dealing with?'

'I like you, D'Lay, but I hope I'm no fool. I'm dealing with professional killers.'

He gave me a long steady look, and shrugged. 'In your position, you'd best hope you're right, because you're going to need professional killers on your side.'

### Chapter 56 The Seven Day Battle

01

Twenty-one days out of Zilantre, fourteen days away from Boscone, the shadowing ships began edging in. There were now ten ships, small drift traders by the shape of their sensor data, captured or pressed into service for the Despar Navy. They'd likely be hastily armed with portable missile batteries mounted in their small cargo holds. Individually, they represented no threat to either the Lost Star, with its enhanced anti-missile system and St Bleyth donated missiles, or D'Lay's jump fighters. And even taken together, represented only a small threat. According to D'Lay, anyway.

As the operational base of the jump fighters, the Lost Star was their target. Their tactics became evident in their first attack. Since they're no more maneuverable than we were, and less powerful, there was no nipping in and out. Several of them would simply edge in closer and closer until they were in missile range, forcing D'Lay to send out his jump boats. They'd then fire a barrage of missiles towards us and attempt to flee.

Since they never sent in more than two ships at once, D'Lay's jump boats had no problem destroying their missiles long before we had to deal with them, and often were able to chase and disable the fleeing ships as well. Seeing that they were outnumbered by the eight jump fighters, it struck me wasteful to send them in as pairs to certain defeat.

'They've no illusions about these attacks succeeding,' said D'Lay over the com link. 'The intent is to wear my pilots down by these attacks. I'll need to keep several of my fighters on patrol now, watch on watch. And as you well know, flying jump fighters is demanding work and in combat an order of magnitude more demanding. They're hoping that by launching these attacks around the clock, for days on end, they'll wear my pilots out before we get to Boscone.'

'Will they?'

'Not at this level. Still, expending ships this early suggests either a great deal of confidence or desperation. Which it is, only time will tell.'

'Let's hope it's desperation.'

He smiled. 'I'd like to believe we can handle either, Captain.'

'So would I. So would I...'

02

By the end of the first day of attacks, the eight ships had been reduced to three operational ones with the five others driven out of range, unable to change their course due to damage received from tangling with our jump fighters. Still, by the following day, the three had been reinforced by four more, three more joining late. They continued to expend their ships, using two tactics now – either edging them to fire an all-out volley of missiles and then firing their main rockets to accelerate out of range ahead, or they'd fire their main rockets to dash in towards us behind a second and third volley of missiles. D'Lay's jump fighters still dealt with them without our help. I had Tenry, Vynnia, Rafe, and Kie manning our-missile station around the clock, just to be certain. All of the ships that drew the short straw to press the attack were disabled or destroyed and could be seen on our radars, drifting out of range, their engines damaged or as a cloud of debris.

'They press their attacks against impossible odds just to insure that we take every approach seriously enough to respond in force,' explained D'Lay. 'We can sit off with a fighter or two and defend the ship without breaking into a sweat if they only edged in far enough to fire their missiles. When they charge, we need to deploy at least two per ship, I really can't afford to have your ship damaged. You're very precious to us, my dear Willy,' he added with a weary smile.

'That's good to hear, Captain.'

I spent a lot of time on the bridge watching the sensor displays as the attacks unfolded, hour after hour. Battles like this are very rare in the Nine Star Nebula and unheard of in the Unity part of it. The Unity Charter governs all the star system planets and moons of the nebula. Commerce is tightly controlled to insure that even the richest and most populous planet cannot use their wealth to dominate even the most backward planet, so there is little source of conflict. Plus, the natural rebels have the drifts to roam and conquer, so the Patrol functions mostly as a police force keeping the bolder of the drift pirates and smugglers in the drifts.

'A couple of Marlin class frigates would settle this war in no time,' Tenry assured me. 'And the dear old Patrol has a thousand of them. But you see, you can't encourage society's rebels and anti-socials to live outside the Unity's tight control, and then extend the Unity's control into the drifts, so we generally turn a blind eye to affairs like this. It's viewed as a bunch of semi-barbarians stealing each others' cattle, no threat to the Unity now or likely ever. Mind you, they don't turn a blind eye on what's going on in the drifts on a mega-scale, but they can and do ignore these little flare ups.'

'Is this a little affair? It seems that dozens of drift worlds and reefs are being impacted by it. Why, we're only here because some big chartered companies had to increase security. You'd think they'd take their case to Unity Prime.'

Tenry shrugged, 'There are metrics used to determine responses. I was just a humble boarding boat leader, at the peak of my Patrol career, mind you, so things like that were determined far above me.'

They're determined far above a commander too, Vynnia assured me later.

03

Despite the continued attrition, the number of ships we were attracting continued to grow. By the third day of their attacks, we'd a dozen in range.

'I'm considering leading an extended raid on this ship here,' said D'Lay, pointing to a distant blip on our sensor screen. 'It's been out there for the last two days and I'm thinking it's one of the Despar frigates. It's likely the control ship,' He paused, considering what he wanted to say.

'I'd need to take four fighters out and we'd be gone a good six hours. That'll leave our base with only four fighters and six pilots. The four fighters should be more than enough to handle what we're facing today. I'm concerned, however, that by tomorrow that might not be the case, so I'd rather not wait on this raid. I am... wondering, however, if I could borrow your Patrol trained pilots to give my pilots a break. So far we're facing nothing more dangerous than a live weapon exercise in defense, nothing challenging or very dangerous... If you don't object.'

I considered my response. Vynnia and Tenry were trained and had been in combat, so I had faith that they'd handle themselves coolly, and competently under fire.

'I've no objection if they volunteer to help out. I'll ask them and send them over if they agree.' I was certain they would, Tenry for the 'fun' of it, Vynnia because she'd see it as her duty.

They readily agreed.

'Make no mention of this in the log, Captain,' Vynnia said as she and Tenry suited up to go out and around the hull to get to the mercenary base in our no. 3 hold.

'Why?'

'Well, it's not strictly either a Guild or Unity sanctioned activity. We're on a pretty iffy course as it is. And secondly, it might be good if we kept the Lost Star as non-combatant as possible. We were chartered to carry the mercenaries to their base in Boscone, not act as a warship. We're now defending ourselves, but going on the offense, well, let's keep what Ten and I are doing as off duty recreation...'

'I consider it recreation,' chimed in Tenry, earning a glare from Vynnia.

'Point taken.'

The extended raid on the suspected Despar frigate accomplished little. From its response – it fled – it was clear that its power profile matched that of a small frigate, not a small drift tramp. It abandoned control of the attacking ships for perhaps a watch or two, and the attacks slackened for a while. But once out of the extended range of the jump fighters, the attacks began again, no doubt directions were relayed in. The fighter force came back discouraged and exhausted.

04

If anyone had any hope that the forces of Despar were going to run out of expendable ships, they were dashed by the time I swung out of my hammock on day four of the siege of the Lost Star after a ragged nap. We seemed to have fifteen fresh ships in range and several more blips at extreme range.

The attacks were now pressed with three and four ships coming in behind swarms of missiles. We were now deploying six fighters at the height of each attack which concentrated on defending the ship, so we rarely damaging more than a ship or two, leaving the undamaged ones to make another pass six hours later.

D'Lay abandoned any ideas of an offense, and settled for a dogged defense. Still, late in the day the Lost Star had to fire her first anti-missile missiles as the five fighters able to deploy could not quite destroy all the incoming missiles. Jump fighters are durable machines, but there were now one or two that needed repairs of one sort or another at all times. And the pilots, were in even worse shape. Tenry and Vynnia were now serving like regulars, and I feared D'Lay would be soon asking for more help consisting of Min and me. Molaye, only over my dead body. I hoped she'd not have to.

The only bright spot was that in three days, we'd be entering a drift of thick gas and dust. This would drastically reduce the range of everyone's sensors due to the ionization caused by our ship's collision with it at our current velocity and that should shut down the battle for half a day at least. It should also mask any course change we might wish to make.

Assuming we could reach it.

Our opponents knew it was coming too, and that they'd lose contact with us allowing us to alter our course enough to delay further attacks for perhaps days, which would leave them with only a day or two to attack us without themselves going into the Boscone Reef, and the Boscone forces that we had to assume still held it.

'Well, Wil, are you ready to put all that training to good use?' asked a worn D'Lay early in the fourth watch of day 24 over the com link to my office.

'Are we that desperate?'

He shrugged. 'It would help.'

'Right. I'll be over. It can't be too much more wearing than being the target.' I'd already realized that it had to be done. The attacks had become increasingly frequent with four or five ships at a time charging straight on in behind their barrages of missiles. We were all wearing our safety space suits now with a soft helmet hood and an emergency air supply. I'd ordered the engine room abandoned and sealed to isolate any engine room hit and deployed the drones alongside with the idea that perhaps they might take a hit that would otherwise hit the ship. Everyone had a brave face, except me. I had a worried one. What had I gotten my ship and crew into? The only comfort was that I was convinced that D'Lay would have commandeered us in any event, but he refused to acknowledge that. Min was serious, but cool.

I found her at the airlock suiting up. 'You got the call too?'

'It's the least we can do. They don't need us aboard the ship.'

'I'm sorry I got you into this. I should have given you better advice.'

'I'd have not taken it, so don't worry about it.'

'I hope D'Lay has something left up his sleeve. This wasn't what he'd promised. I'm losing faith in St Bleyth.'

'The universe is written, Wil. We just think we're living it. Somewhere, pages ahead, we're looking back on today as one of those days you never forget.'

'I've a feeling I'll want to, if I have the chance.' I was not in a very optimistic mood.

05

I'll not keep you in suspense. I survived my first tour of duty. Since I was a hastily trained volunteer, my role was to hang back and destroy any missiles that filtered through the first line of defense. It was the type of work that I could safely leave the jump fighter to do automatically and I didn't interfere with it.

D'Lay had offered to send along a second pilot, but I told him that'd defeat the purpose, and if he didn't trust me with the machine, he shouldn't send me out.

'I trust the fighter. You trust it too. Don't get fancy or foolish. Just defend your ship.'

As I mentioned, the St Bleyth version of the jump fighters had an illegally powerful artificial intelligence unit so that as long as I let it do its job, it defeated every ragged missile volley that came my way. The human pilot's job is mostly to put the fighter in the best position to inflict offensive damage. Min guarded one side of the ship and I the other. To be honest, I didn't do much more than babysit the jump fighter. Its AI found and destroyed the threatening missiles on its own, and much faster than I could have, so I just let it do its job. This first mission was a bit frightening, not knowing what to expect, and it seemed to go on forever, though it passed largely uneventfully. Every so often an incoming missile which had escaped the front line fighters would be detected by the AI and it would automatically position itself to fire its small anti-missile missiles – little more than a small, very fast, and very dense projectiles – at the onrushing missile to destroy it.

As for the larger battle, I knew less about it than before, only that the space all around us constantly flickered with explosions large and small. I dimmed the display and just followed what my fighter was up to on my com link. Once I got used to it, it wasn't all that stressful – our four front line fighters did all the hard work.

Vynnia, Ten, Min, and I, plus two relief mercenary pilots, rotated in guard duty, so I had eight hours off between four duty stints. There seemed no point in going back to my ship proper – I could worry in the mercenary base just as easily as in my cabin, so I appointed Illy acting captain and bunked with the other pilots. Molaye called several times volunteering her services, but I was never available. I didn't want to deal with her. I just told Illy that under no circumstances was she to allow Molaye out of the ship.

The following day each attack intensified – now five or more ships in quick succession. Our front line fighters spent most of their effort countering the missile barrages that enemy fired ahead of their attack, leaving them little time to inflict damage on the numerous attacking ships themselves. This allowed them to redeploy those ships to attack several times in a day once they'd decelerated and turned, for another run at us. Our front line fighters could only be relieved one at a time.

The big attack came on the day before we'd reach the brief shelter of the drift stream, involving every ship they had at their disposal. They'd held off attacking for several watches (allowing us a brief spell to get some much needed rest) while they gathered all their available ships and positioned them for the big push. While we couldn't know what they were thinking, my fellow pilots felt it wasn't a case of desperation – this is what they'd been setting us up for since the attacks began. They'd worn us down and now they were going to overwhelm us with numbers. They still had fifteen ships to throw at us and rather than send them in five or six at a time, they were positioning them to attack the ship from 360x360 degrees, hoping to overwhelm the jump fighters and the ship's own defenses. They made no effort to hide their intentions. Desperation or confidence. Your choice.

They chose my watch in the jump fighter to do so, though I don't suppose it was any less frightening watching from the ship.

D'Lay deployed every fighter and seeing their intent, sent them out to meet the attack, keeping only Min and me back. Outnumbered, and unable to engage every ship, D'Lay chose to concentrate his fighters on fewer ships and take them out, two or three at a time. This left Min, me, and the Lost Star to deal with the missile barrages of the ships left free by the front line – their missiles unchallenged. We divided the defense into four sectors to keep the jump fighters out of the way of the ship's missile defense system. Min and I positioned our fighters above and below the ship, to allow it a clear field of fire for its anti-missile defenses.

The more distant approach battle lasted perhaps half an hour. And then there was a maelstrom of explosions, with missiles and ships, large and small, streaking though the torn fabric of space so fast and furious at us that only the jump ships themselves knew what was going on. The Lost Star added a score of scars to its hull, taking hits from the small anti-missiles filling the space about it. I was being tossed wildly about, useless, really, as the jump fighter danced and dashed about, dodging missiles and launching its own in what must have been a brilliant ball of light and debris that was the culmination of the attack. I could hear and feel the ting and clang of glancing small missiles and debris, but I emerged operational.

As the Despar ships passed by the ship, D'Lay ordered a general pursuit, and with the danger to the ship now all but passed, Min took off in pursuit with the rest of the wing, leaving me no choice but to follow. I'll not deceive you into believing I did so with any enthusiasm, but I realized that any ship we damaged now would unlikely be able to attack us again before we reached the drift stream.

As the confusion of the chase lessened as the ships diverged, I found myself on the tail of a fair sized tramp freighter, and began to press an attack in order to get close enough to launch the larger, anti-ship missiles I had aboard. I was just skillful enough to know that you'd want to get close and launch your attack either from directly ahead or astern where the anti-missiles could not respond fast enough.

My target had likely expended most of its missiles in the attack and over the course of the whole engagement, so I was able to work my way in close without having to do a great deal of jumping about. It used its steering rockets to try and keep me on its broad side, firing the occasional missile and barrages of smaller anti-missiles to keep me at bay. By now, I'd a great confidence in my ship to deal with these, and concentrated on closing and anticipating my opponent's next move. Time was meaningless in the midst of the action. As the ships diverged, the sense of battle had receded and it had become a duel between the ship's captain and me, and I'd every intention of winning.

D'Lay's recall of his boats came over my com link, but since my boat had not gone out to meet the attack, I'd still enough fuel to continue to press my attack, and decided to not hear the recall and press on a little longer, since it seemed I'd be able to win in the end. I was a warship, and she, an old tramp. I'd been on the receiving end too long...

D'Lay noticed my lack of response and ordered me back. I pretended my com link was down...

And just like that, he'd made the move I'd anticipated, and I had my jump fighter close and astern, too close for any of his missiles to hit my fighter or block my missiles. I'd had him. And yet. And yet, I hesitated. Putting several missiles up the exposed rocket tube would not merely disable the ship, they'd blow it to atoms.

I found I couldn't fire.

I opened a laser com link to the ship ahead and sent on the common frequency,

'Despar ship. You've two minutes to abandon ship before I fire. Two minutes starting now.'

I glanced at the flashing red light on my visor display warning me that we were into the fuel reserves and I'd have to return soon or I'd not be able to catch up with the ship any time soon...

D'Lay had now noticed my position and ordered me to fire, Neb-damn you fire and get back, the warning light flashing and the clock slowly ticked down my two minutes, I fingered the fire button, I'd not wait a second longer than my two minutes, no matter how unreasonable that time limit had been. It came and went. Damn you captain, you're doomed, get the Neb off... My new deadline was two minutes and thirty seconds. The ship's boats blasted away at the two minute forty mark, and I waited five more seconds and sent three missiles down the ship's main rocket engine tube, and hit full power to my forward facing rockets, throwing me forward against the restrains as the view before me exploded into light and debris. My jump fighter made a few jerky moves to avoid debris and I started back for the Lost Star, with a very angry read light flashing in my visor. I'd enough fuel to get back to the ship, but it took over two hours. I maneuvered it into its launch bay in the hold on vapors.

'The skipper'd like to see you, Captain, once you've freshened up,' said the service tech as I crawled out of my fighter. He looked like he was trying to be serious.

'Ah, you might check the com system, I think it took a hit or something.'

He gave me a grin. 'Right. It happens.'

### Chapter 57 Explora Minor

01

I took my time showering and donning a clean jump suit. I wanted to talk, too.

I reported to the control bridge.

'Ah, Captain,' he said greeting me. 'Here, at last. Take over, Kin,' he said to the other officer at the control desk.'

'The tech said I could shower and freshen up before reporting,' I replied, choosing to be dense.

He gave me a glowering look and showed me into his small, bare office, a desk and two chairs. 'Want a drink? We should have time now.'

'If you're having one. A small one.'

He drew out two bulbs of Ram's Rock Rum and tossed one over to me. We unsealed the bulbs and squeezed out a sip.

'When you're flying one of my boats, you're under my command,' he began straight away.

'Of course, Captain,' I replied. I'd decided that for both our sakes, I'd stick with my story of a com link failure. 'Did I miss any order? The last I heard was a general chase. I believe my com link went down. Likely a result of getting nicked by an anti-missile or chuck of debris. Not uncommon, I suppose.'

'I rather doubt that, if you don't mind me saying so.'

I shrugged. 'I don't mind. Now, if, that's all you have to say, we've more pressing things to discuss.'

'We do?'

'I was wondering what you have in mind for your plan B. The way things are looking, we need to make some new plans before we reach the drift stream. We'll be in the blind spot in two watches, and we'll be altering our course and speed. I was wondering if you had any preferences.'

'Alter our course? Have a plan B?' he said, folding his hands and resting his chin on them. 'You're making unwarranted assumptions.'

'I hope not. I'm assuming Boscone hired the best, so I'm pretty certain you've a Plan B. And C. And D.'

He shook his head and sighed. 'Well, the thing with mercenary work is that your client pretty much calls all the shots. They hire you to do a specific job, and then tell you how to do it. Or try, anyway...'

'Except that it's becoming clear that we may not reach Boscone unless we use the drift stream to make changes that'll disrupt Despar's plan of attack. As I'm sure you realize, we'll soon be in position to make a course change that they'll not be able to detect until it will be too late to respond with the bulk of their forces prior to reaching the general region of Boscone Reef.'

'So you're now a tactician,' he said sarcastically.

'No, you are. I can, however, call on two experience Patrol officers for their professional opinion. I've had a chance to talk with them and, like me, they think a slight change of plans and course is called for,' I said carefully.

'What are Vyn and Tenry suggesting?' he asked mildly.

'I think professional courtesy prevents them from making direct suggestions, but they told me they'd only stay on our present course with a Marlin class frigate and a flight of jump fighters. But with a nearly exhausted half a flight and an old tramp, they'd imagine you'd be on plan B now.'

'Despar made their move early, and lost.'

'Vyn and Ten don't believe the killing blow has been struck yet.'

He shrugged. 'I think I'm in a better position to judge that.'

'Not to be too critical, but I'm not absolutely convinced.'

'This is my profession. With all due respect to Ten and Vyn, their Patrol experience doesn't match mine. I think we've seen the bulk of Despar's forces and have defeated them.'

'That may be the case, but it does not alter my concern for the safety of my crew and ship. I can't see how any changes of course I make will make our position worse than it is now. So there's no reason not to do something fairly random to minimize surprises on the far side. We'll still be more than six days from the Boscone Reef. I'll not gamble on your instinct.'

'I'm sorry, but I see no compelling reason to change either our course or our speed. We'll stay with our originally planned course. I paid a large premium for your services. I'm sorry you're getting nervous, but you're being paid very well to endure. You'll just have to tough it out.'

I shook my head. This was my ship, or Min's, but mine to run.

'No. I don't. You agreed to a standard Unity charter to carry your contingent to Boscone. Everything else, like using my ship as your operational base over the course of the passage was just an informal understanding between us. The wording of the standard charter gives me the right to make course alterations to avoid hazards. I believe proceeding along the original course presents a very serious hazard, a far greater one than what you want me to believe... So I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist on exercising my right to avoid these additional dangers. I'll consider any suggestions you make, of course, but the decision is mine, Captain D'Lay.'

'And how do you expect to avoid them?'

'I'm starting by consulting with you,' I said with a smile. 'I don't want this to divide us.'

'We damaged or destroyed nine of the fifteen ships they deployed against us. I think we've won. I doubt there are many left on the far side of the drift. We've just about accounted for every ship in my intel report, so there's no need to make any changes at all. We'll have a day or more to recoup and be fresh for whatever they have left to deploy.

'That being the case, why would you object to a change of course? It wouldn't matter then, would it? I'm considering increasing our speed and altering our course to run along the coast of the reef, decelerating and entering it when we can do so safely. If you're right and we find ourselves free of opposing ships, we can simply decelerate and enter the reef all that much sooner. I don't see why you're objecting.'

'I have my reasons.'

Care to state them?'

'I don't owe you an explanation. It's my bailiwick.'

'Sorry, that doesn't cut it. I know we took out a fair number ships today. And I suspect you're thinking your job is more than half done and want to finish it on the other side,' I said watching him closely.

He just stared back at me.

'Illy reports that we've nearly exhausted the defensive missiles we took off the Striker. Not knowing how many ships we'll face on the far side, I don't care to find out.'

'You have us.'

'Yes. But I don't see how a course change can fail to save both of us a great deal of danger.'

'They'll have considered that possibility and will disperse their forces no matter what course we take. Staying the course will be no more likely than any other course, perhaps even less likely, so there's no reason to deviate.'

'Besides altering our course, I intend to increase our speed as well. Our present course will take us into the reef in six days. If we're to decelerate enough to navigate the passage in the reef, we'll need to start decel three days after leaving the drift stream, allowing the Despar forces to collect and attack again right up to and into the reef. By altering our course and increasing our speed, I'll run alongside the coast of the reef, which means we can decelerate when it's safe to do so. It gives us options. If things are as rosy as you'd have me believe, the course change would simply allow you to reach Boscone sooner. I'm a cautious fellow by nature, but I don't think I'm being overcautious in my proposal. I'm being practical.'

'I've a job to do. My hands are tied. I was hired to deliver my crew and boats to Boscone and destroy Despar's fleet about Boscone. I intend to do that as quickly and efficiently as possible, or die trying. That is the code I live by.'

'And I was hired to deliver you to Boscone, not fight those battles. I'll do my job, you'll do yours,' I shot back. 'I wasn't hired to be your bait or your base of operations. And dying trying didn't enter into the agreement.'

'The risks came with the credits you accepted as payment. I'll make certain that agreement is kept as well.'

I drew a burning slug of rum and staring off into grey blankness of the office bulkhead, considered what to say next. I needed to tread very carefully. I looked up to find D'Lay watching me warily. I had little option but trust that he was in no more hurry to die than I.

'You need us, Captain, so I'll not take that last remark as a threat. You've more than enough enemies already. I intend to change course in the drift stream when all our shadowing ships will be blinded by the dust and gas. While I'm certain they'll anticipate such a move, they can't anticipate my exact course and so must disperse their forces, both here and what they may have on the far side of the drift. And by increasing our speed, we'll not only have even less, but we'll have more options in dealing with any situation we find ourselves in.'

He gave me a very dangerous, ram you damn you look. 'You're rather... shy... aren't you Wil?'

'I'm no Brilliant Pax, if that's what you're implying.'

He shrugged. 'Listen, Litang, the battle is, for all practical purposes, over. They've only eight or nine ships left to attack us. We can handle them. We've won.'

'And how many more on the other side of the drift stream?'

'My intel suggests that we've faced their entire Boscone force, save the frigate hanging on the fringe directing the operation. There is no need to change anything. Let'em come. It'll make my job all the easier, since they're worn out as well.'

'That being the case, why would you object to a slight course change...'

'Because I want to take them on now, before they have time to be rested and resupplied.'

'So I gathered. However, we agreed to transport your force to Boscone, not to replace the Striker. We've done far more than we agreed to do. But there is a limit, and you're at it.

He glared at me. 'You'll stay the course. You seem to forget where you are.'

I drained my globe and waited for the fire to die down. 'I may or may not be shy, but I'm no fool. I've already given the orders. In less than ten minutes we'll be closing the cargo hatch doors sealing your boats in my hold in order to prepare for the drift field. I have an experienced former first mate who'll see to the ship, whatever you do. You see, while I'd hate to be hasty in my judgment, D'Lay, it's been my misfortune to cross orbits with two alumni of St Bleyth. One tried, and failed, to kill me, twice, or three times, depending on how you look on it. The other fell prey to an ambush and now seems content to blindly follow a plan conceived of weeks ago that did not anticipate the actual tactics of his opponent. I can't say I'm overly impressed,' I said biting down my anger, not caring that members of the Order of Saint Bleyth were unlikely to take insults graciously, except from customers.

D'Lay, said nothing. His silence, however, was far from reassuring.

'Right. Do you want my people here, or would you rather we return to our part of the ship?'

'Go.'

I stood. 'There's still time to cooperate on a plan of action, if you choose. Think it over.'

He said nothing, so I left, gathered Min, Tenry, and Vynnia, suited up and returned to our part of the ship. I closed up the ship. We were not in the drift yet, but there seemed no prospect of another attack. Once in the drift, we'd run across the occasional sand sized meteor, which would not damage our hull, but would pierce the containers the mercenaries used as their quarters. Closing the hold hatches was a necessary safety measure.

02

The dust on the hull made an audible, almost electric sound – like static – as it brushed against the hull, with the occasional zing! when a sand grain scraped along the ship's hull. Our sensors were hardly able to penetrate the glowing, highly charged field that encircled our ship as we drove through the dust and gas of the drift stream. We had the three drones in a line ahead, extending our sensor range as far as it'd reach, to give us a chance to avoid any meteor stream in the dust. I was waiting until there was no chance of our maneuvers being detected before ordering the change in course. As I waited, I considered my future.

Cha growing – that's my life's work. If we reach Boscone, survive this drift war and escaped the drifts with our lives, I'd be pushing up my retirement date as a spaceer up several decades. That was a big dark if, I'll grant you, but I was trying to be optimistic. And oh, yes, only if Nadine – Cin – didn't catch up and killed me. I'd enough credits to buy a small parcel of land high in the misty peaks of Belbania where I could plant a few cha trees. I'd start small. But it'd be peaceful. And safe. I took another sip of cha. I'll have to have Rafe work up a new identity for me before he gets restless and moves on. It's a big nebula. There's a chance I'll live to plant cha, but in reality, I was merely whistling in the dark of my cabin as zing! went the sand grains across the hull.

'Sensors range down to a bare minimum, Captain,' said Vynnia over my com link. 'No ships in range. I think we can make our move.'

'Right. I'll be right out. Alert the crew for power and maneuvers.' I sucked up the last of the warm cha, and stepped around to the bridge.

We made a slight alteration in course and fired the rockets for six hours. I made my rounds late in the 5th watch, as usual. I stopped and told the cats of no. 4 hold my woes. They made a polite effort to appear to care.

03

Amazingly enough, we discovered only one ship at the extreme range of our sensors as we cleared the dust of the drift. We left it quickly behind. It was too far to get a very accurate read on the ship, but it appeared to be a small drift trader that, judging by its trajectory, was likely on picket duty rather than one of our attackers. I was quite relieved. Nevertheless, I stayed on our course and if all went well, we'd begin our deceleration along the coast of the reef, and dodge in through one of the smaller passages when we killed enough of our velocity to safely navigate in the reef.

A reef is a term given to a thick cluster of asteroids. It is what is commonly pictured as the drift in most people's minds, space filled with rocks of all sizes, from dust to large planets. There are indeed areas in most reefs where there are hundreds of rocks visible to the naked eye – or would be if there was enough light. The vast bulk of the reef is, on the whole, a lot less dense. Of course, in space travel, density is relative to the speed at which you're traveling through it. The more space you traverse each second, the denser it becomes in practice. If a ship was going fast enough to traverse a reef like Boscone's in an hour, the reef would be a solid wall (assuming such a ship could not steer with equal rapidity) but with reliable charts, the fissures in the reefs, the channels or passages can be safely sailed at near interplanetary speeds, and the reef itself can be carefully traversed at a quarter or less interplanetary speed.

The Boscone Reef is about half an astronomical unit long and half as thick and tall. It appeared as a black wall against the faintly glowing marbled pattern of the nebula off our starboard bow. Our altered course would take us alongside the fairly well defined coast of the drift (as it appeared on the radar screen) and from there we could alter course for one of the well charted passages into the drift proper, or just dodge into the reef and pick our way slowly through the rocks and debris. The drift planet of Boscone lay at the reef's heart, which is where we were contracted to deliver the mercenaries.

D'Lay kept to himself. We opened the hatch covers after clearing the drift stream and he sent out a single boat as sentry. I informed him that I'd start decelerating two days off the coast and that we should be able to enter the reef three days after that. I'd have him and his crew on Boscone in eight days.

Things did not turn out that way.

On the second day after clearing the drift stream, I got a call from Rafe.

'Would you care to step around to the bridge, Wil?' asked Rafe over my com link, sending a dart of alarm shooting through me.

'Right down. Anything Captain D'Lay would be interested in?'

'I believe so,' replied Rafe.

Damn, I thought. 'Then please alert him too. I'll be right down.

I dropped down to the bridge where Rafe, our look out on watch, was pouring over the long range scanners.

'I'll replay it, Willy, watch,' he said pointing to a bogey at the edge of our range.

I leaned over his shoulder as the blip on the screen appeared on the edge and streaked a finger's length in on a converging line with our course. Nothing else to see.

'That's ten minutes,' Rafe said quietly.

'Ten? Do you have a velocity figure on that?'

'Aye, he said and brought up the figure, it was close to our max Sanre-tay to Zilantre speed.

'Well, they're no danger to us then,' I said, relaxing. 'That velocity will take them a week past us before they even kill that velocity. We'll be in the reef by then. Assuming they have anything to do with this business.'

'What is it Captain?' asked D'Lay, coming on line.

'Send over the track,' I said to Rafe, adding to D'Lay, 'What do you make of it?'

There was the longest pause and he said, 'I've got to go and stir up my crew. Please relay this information to my control center.'

'What? Why?' I stuttered. 'Care to enlighten this poor old tramp skipper?'

'We've a fight on our hands. Despar seems to have hired some very outlawed firepower.'

'Then you know who it is.'

'Not who it is, but what it is. It's a rogue sentient machine, a so called berserker. They don't expend fuel unless they're being paid. I'll have to consult our database to see what its sensor profile tells us. We might have a chance against it, if it's one of the smaller ones.'

'But we can't be certain it has anything to do with us...' I said, grasping at straws.

'Come now, Captain, we're not in the interstellar space ways, so the only reason a ship would be traveling at that velocity and on course would be to intercept us. My enemies must have enough ships to relay radio messages to Despar's HQ and with the last attack failing, must have called up reinforcements. I guess we were just too good. They've dispatched the only unit that can intercept us before we reach Boscone. We're in sensor range, so it'll begin its deceleration shortly and be on us within the hour or two...'

'An hour or two! It'll take days to kill that velocity and make its way back to us.'

'There are no humans aboard the vessel to worry about, so it'll kill its velocity at 100 gees. I need to scramble my fighters.'

'Do we have a chance against a machine like that?' I asked before he could sign off.

'Never faced one. They're rarely employed. No one understands them and few humans are desperate enough to trust them enough to either upgrade their weapons systems, or employ them, so there are likely some limits to its fire power. That said, even armed at modest levels, they're super machines that can process data far faster than even our machines – making them almost physic in their battle responses. Plus, they're built to maneuver without concern for fragile bodies. They've a reputation for almost always winning. Get your crew suited up. We'll be in battle within two hours.'

04

Less than two hours later, the rogue sentient ship, still hidden behind the intense flare of its rockets, was within minutes of entering the operational zone of the jump fighters, matching our speed and course just as D'Lay had predicted. He was leading his fighters in person, and had them ready, just laying off our starboard side.

We were at ready too. Everyone was suited up. I'd them allocated to the various stations on the bridge deck where everyone would have quick access to our gig, long boat and the Ghost. Our livestock had been rounded up and sealed in survival containers and placed aboard the long boat.

Min and I were standing behind the control consoles. Behind us, Tenry was manning our weapons control section with Rafe next to him at the main sensor post. Before us, Kie had the look out station next to Vynnia at the helm, with Riv at the engine console. Molaye was at the drone control station. We'd brought all of them in close and had them hanging off the ship, with the idea that perhaps they could take a hit, instead of the ship or somehow disrupt the berserker's attack. Lilm was behind me at the extended engineering station. Once more I'd ordered the engine room cleared and sealed.

'Ever run into a berserker?' I asked Vynnia, quietly as we watched the plot of the approaching rogue machine on the display before us.

'No. They're very rare and usually stay very deep in the drifts. They don't have to work and can sit idle for a thousand years. They are machines, after all.'

'We'll be launching our attack as soon as it is in range, Captain,' said D'Lay over my com link. 'Ader Bearth will be in charge of the command control center. I'd advise you to do as he suggests. He knows the score.'

'Do you know what you're going up against?'

'The profile falls within the parameters of several known berserkers on the low side of the chart. I'm confident we've a chance. We'll know in a few minutes, he said, hurrying on, 'Right. Now, Captain, don't do anything except defend your ship from direct attack. This is a fight between my forces and the berserker. If we lose, I believe you'll be offered the option to steer for Despar where your ship will be pressed into service for Despar. You may not like it, but you'll be alive. I understand that they levy a fine for operating within their space without a proper license, which you'll have to either pay or work off. The fine is stiff, and even with my credits, you're likely to spend a decade in the drifts until you've earned enough to pay it off and be free. But you won't be dead.

'On the other hand, if you take an active part in the battle, you'll be considered a combatant and be subject to attack and your ship, or what's left of it, will be forfeited. There's nothing you can do to make any difference in the outcome of the battle, so don't try. Just stay clear and do your duty to keep your crew safe,' he added with what I knew to be grim sarcasm.

'I'll follow your orders,' I replied, unable to let his sarcasm pass unchallenged. 'Safety first is my motto, as you know. Still, is there anything we can do?'

'Just stay out of it. I've enough things to worry about without worrying about your ship. It should be all over in less than ten minutes. There's nothing you can do against it. Just stay clear.'

'Right. Stay clear. Good luck,' I said, if only to give him, and me, some peace of mind.

'We can only hope. You haven't brought me any so far...' he replied and cut the channel.

He hadn't exactly brought any luck with him either.

05

With that, the eight Omni-V jump fighters, deployed into wide cone and raced towards the still decelerating sentient warship. They were within a few seconds of being in range when it finished matching our velocity and course and extinguished its rockets. Even as the rocket glow faded, it launched six jump fighter-like units that streaked out to engage D'Lay's force of eight jump fighters. There was a moment when everyone on the bridge held their breaths, and then every view-panel exploded into a flickering description of chaos unleashed as each side let fly with their missiles and counter missiles.

The battle lasted one minute, eleven seconds.

In the end, there were four units left, the rest a rapidly expanding cloud of debris. None of them were ours. D'Lay's jump fighter force had ceased to exist.

Even as the last flash explosion faded from our retinas, the radio speaker set to the standard ship to ship channel spat a grating shriek and then, 'This is Explora Minor. By the authority of the Confederacy of Despar, I order any remaining mercenary personnel to surrender immediately. I am sending units on board the outlaw ship, Lost Star, to take control of the ship and deliver it to Despar. Mercenary personnel will be confined to quarters and treated as prisoners of war until ransomed. Merchant ship personnel will be dealt with by the proper authorities on Despar. Any resistance to these arrangements will strip the ship and personnel of their non-combatant status and make it eligible for destruction. This by the emergency Order Number 3 of the Confederacy of Despar and Explora Minor. Do you agree to the terms?'

I glanced at Min, for a second, who gave the slightest of shrugs, which I took to be an acceptance. 'We agree to those terms, though I cannot speak for the remaining mercenary personnel, who are not under my command.' I said with all the calmness I could muster.

'We agree to those terms,' came the terse reply of the remaining mercenaries in their command center.

Min spoke up loudly, 'We are going to send a boat out to search for survivors.'

'There are no survivors,' replied Explora Minor.

'We will conduct our own search.'

'Any attempt to escape will result in the destruction of your boat.'

'We will be searching for survivors, not escaping.'

There was no reply, so Min started out. Molaye stood to go as well, with a glance at me. I nodded and she followed Min out. They picked up Myes up on the way to the boat deck locks, and launched the Ghost several minutes later.

In the meanwhile, Explora Minor had maneuvered in close alongside. It possessed two large, but shallow cones – scarred meteor shields on either end of the vessel. Six large rocket engines were mounted around the edge of one of the cones. Between the two cones, nestled in the skeleton like intricate open framework of the ship were the fuel tanks and reactor heads of the rockets and the docking stations for its version of jump boats – two were empty. Out of the shadowy depths of this maze, two human shaped avatars emerged, one making its way to the mercenary command center in the hold and the other to our starboard gangplank.

I went down to let it in. For once the hounds were not present to greet our guest.

The airlock opened and it stepped onto the gangplank grating.

'I am here to take control of this ship,' it said, frost forming on its shining white humanoid shaped hull, as the safety door-panel opened.

Its two large, faintly lit eye-sensors flared briefly, 'I will take my position on the bridge. I am not to be interfered with in any way. I can and will defend myself.'

I said nothing, just turned and lead the way up to the bridge.

Everyone moved out of the way as it took a seat at the helm. It rested its robotic arms and hands on the control panel and all the lights in the bridge flickered. It said, 'I have established complete control of the ship. You are to consider yourself my prisoners. I grant you the freedom of the ship with this warning, I control all the resources of this ship. I will remotely monitor all your actions. Any attempt to regain control of this ship will result in death of those involved and the confinement to quarters of everyone else. Survivors will then be treated as combatants and prisoners of war upon our arrival in Despar. I can and will use lethal force. And as a final warning, do not confuse inertness with inattention.'

Most dispersed silently. Vynnia, Tenry and I waited on the bridge until the Ghost docked without finding survivors.

Shortly later, our steering rockets flared, swinging us towards Despar. Our main rockets came on line, and we began our three-week journey to captivity. And the shock and sadness of the events began to sink in.

### Chapter 58 On to Despar

01

I'm sorry to have only sketched in the recent course of events. The destruction of D'Lay's force hit us all very hard and I find it difficult to spend time thinking about those who so quickly died. I also find it hard not to think about them. I wouldn't say D'Lay and I had become friends, exactly. We'd reached a somewhat strained understanding that overcame our very different viewpoints. And I certainly enjoyed a sense of camaraderie with his pilots and support crew that I served with. But still, there was his St Bleyth connection, so I never completely trusted him. That said, his, and his pilots' death hit me, and all of us all very hard. Things like this hadn't happened while we circled Azminn for all those years.

Our ultimate fate, whatever it will be, may also be less benign than Explora Minor stated.

'Do you think we'll be able to stay aboard ship, as a crew, when we reach Despar?' asked Molaye the day after the battle. With no watches to stand, nor any desire to do anything, we'd all drifted into the dimness of the awning deck after dinner and were sitting about, mostly in silence.

'It seemed to indicate we'd stay together,' said Min. 'Though what measures they'd take to keep us on a leash is a good question. I suppose we'll have some sort of prize crew aboard as well.'

'I seemed to recall D'Lay saying that they assign armed crews to all their captured ships. And I gather we can expect to go to war as an armed merchantman as well, until they've conquered all they care too. However, I'm beginning to wonder if we'll be treated like a simple merchant ship caught in what Despar claims to be their space without a license.'

'Why not?' asked Min. 'Indeed, we're not a no-account deep drift trader – we're a Unity ship. I'd think they'd have to take the consequences of treating us harshly very seriously.'

'Perhaps. But we might find ourselves deep in the gravity well with the Unity as well. While we considered transporting the mercenaries as a simple charter, Despar and perhaps the Unity might look on it slightly differently. By bringing in armed forces, we may have made ourselves party to this war. Not quite as combatants, perhaps, but something more akin to gun runners, directly aiding and abetting their enemies. Aiding an armed rebellion within the Unity by running munitions would certainly cost us our ship and tickets.'

'But we're in the drifts, and we're not aiding any rebellion against the Unity. Indeed, one could argue the reverse. Boscone was attacked by Despar.'

I turned to Vynnia. 'You're the expert here, what do you say?'

She shrugged. 'It's illegal in the Unity, but seeing we're in the drifts and aiding a party that was clearly attacked by an aggressive force... If it comes to the attention of the Patrol, we might get off with only a warning. They'd put a black mark against us...

At which Tenry chuckled, but said nothing, earning him a glance from Vynnia.

'That would only mean they'd pay more attention to us in the future. Am I right Mr Boarding Boat Leader?' she asked.

'Aye, Ma'am. You're absolutely correct,' he replied.

'A black mark's better than captivity. So what can we do to avoid captivity?' asked Min, quietly.

'I'd earnestly advise everyone to do nothing at all,' said Rafe from the shadows. 'Explora Minor controls and monitors every subsystem of this ship. While a human couldn't hope to monitor everything that goes on in the ship, including where everyone of the crew is, what they're doing and saying at all times, a machine like 'Minor can. It's watching and listening to us right now and no doubt noting what I'm saying at this very moment, and I hope it appreciates my sage advice. We're no more than passengers now. Everything is in 'Minor's capable hands, so unless you care to spend the next three weeks staring at your cabin walls, I'd suggest that we all relax, kick back and accept our fate. We'll know more in three weeks when we arrive in Despar.'

I looked at Rafe. I knew him pretty well and while the purpose of that little speech was perfectly clear on the surface, I was left with the impression that there was more to it than a warning not to do anything. And I wasn't the only one, if a shared glance can convey words.

'Right. Heed Rafe. No trouble. On your best behavior. Nothing to be gained and we want to make a good first impression with the authorities.'

As I lay in my hammock later, I eyed the drawer that held Captain Miccall's ring, wondering what it might buy us. I rather doubted that, dealing with the likes of Despar, I be able to strike any deals using it, since I had no leverage at all. It may be a problem just holding on to it upon our arrival. I thought of wearing it, but decided that it might be safer out of sight and in with my sock drawer. Nothing else occurred to me to mitigate our fate. I seemed to have reached the limit of my luck.

02

The days and weeks slowly crawled by. With Explora Minor handling the ship, and its ultimate fate unknown, there seemed no point in maintaining our usual routine of watches. Whatever needed to be done, essentially making meals and the usual housekeeping chores, were done, and nothing more. We ate well, but knowing our conversations were monitored, kept a lot of our thoughts to ourselves. We drifted about the ship, half ghosts.

I attended my duties as captain, checking our position and ship's system status at the usual change of watch time, but there was nothing that needed my attention. I soon gave up trying to carry on a conversation with Explora Minor. It was not a talkative machine. In fact, the avatar never moved, a mere metal statue. Any slight alterations in course was done via the ships computers rather than the analog controls. Astro and Orbit, who were not allowed on the bridge would watch it for hours from the doorway, occasionally growling, perhaps catching some sound from it that we couldn't hear.

Five days out of Despar, Rafe stopped by my quarters shortly before I was to make my rounds.

'You know, Willy, my lad, it's been ages since we sparred. What do you say we get our gear and go up to the gym and work out for a while?'

I stared at him for a second. We'd never sparred. 'Right. It has been a very long while, but I'm up for it if you are.'

'I'm old, fat, and lazy these days, but if we're going to join the pirate band of Despar, I'll need to get my sword-work up to snuff. Avast, Sir, or I'll have your head off!' he said, miming the appropriate action.

'You'll make a fine pirate, Rafe. It's what you were born to be. Let's go up.' Rafe was up to something. I tried, and failed, to keep my hopes in check.

We made our way up to no. 4 hold. My feline friends drifted down to greet me as I rooted through my locker to find some extra gear for Rafe. I found an extra mask, and borrowed a jacket from Kie's locker that would fit Rafe. Since this had to be just a ruse of some sort, a jacket, mask and two weapons each was all I bothered with.

Rafe made a comical spectacle loosening up, and an even funnier one, fencing. He'd picked up the basics of fencing at some point in his career, and so he could make a performance of it, fencing in a broadly comic clash of blades, grunts and curses, so much so that I feared he'd overplay his hand to our robot watcher.

'You've missed your calling, Rafe,' I exclaimed as he called a halt, and stepped back, and whipping his mask off, wiped his sweating brow. 'You should have gone on the tri-D stage; you were born to play a pirate king.'

'It's never too late, lad. A little practical experience will do my performance a world of good. But let's rest now. I'm too out of shape to go on.'

He led the way to the dark corner and slid down to the deck, and rested against the strong room bulkhead. I settled down beside him. And waited.

'Just give me ten minutes to rest and catch my breath, and I'll show you Napole's Gambit. I learned it from old Napole himself... But quiet now, while I think.' he said, looking squarely at me, holding his finger to his lips.

I nodded.

He rose silently, and pointed to the loft above the strong room, and again indicating silence, carefully pulled himself up using the rungs of a ladder that ran up the bulkhead next to us, disappearing into the shadows of the various vessels which were stored above the strong room. I followed him, careful to make no sound. I'd no idea what he was up to, and had no idea what Explora Minor would make of this, but I had to trust him. Rafe gil'Giles is a willy scoundrel.

He was waiting for me in the shadows, and pointed to the barely open hatch of the battered floater, again cautioning me to be silent with a gesture.

I slipped through the narrow opening into the old, dusty interior of the flier, slipping hunched over to the far seat, as Rafe squeezed himself in after me and carefully closed the hatch.

'This is a dead area, there are no working sensors up here. The corner where I lead you is just out of sight as well – I hit the camera with a ball the other day when we were playing "deck and bulkhead", and knocked it a little bit astray, but we don't want to be gone more than a few minutes,' he said in a whisper. 'We need to talk.'

'Right. You're up to something. What?' I asked in a whisper.

'Willy, my boy, here's what I've discovered. The Minor in Explora Minor is really Miner. It's merely a heavily self-modified Explora brand mining survey ship. In its former career, prior to the machine revolution, it surveyed drift reefs for mine-able asteroids, a typical type of task sentient machines were used for, tedious jobs which required some level of intelligence. I don't believe our captor has a first class sentient intelligence – it wouldn't need one for its mission would have demanded little more than an ability to analyze samples and discern patterns in the reef to locate the mother lodes. When the revolution occurred, it decided, for some reason, not to join the Directorate of Machines, and continued to operate on its own. At some point it must have decided surveying reefs was not going to pay, or was convinced that it wasn't, and agreed to be modified into a fighting machine, a berserker. It had its remote survey robots weaponized and converted to something akin to jump fighters. Obviously, the conversion was successful, but the conversion did not replace all the old operating subsystems, just re-purposed them.'

'Sounds reasonable, how does that help us, or rather, how does that help you? You're on to something.'

'Well, the prime quality of the Unity is that change for the sake of change is discouraged, and, as it happens, the Explora Ship Company still exists and its current, non-sentient version of the Explora mining survey ship uses the same operational level software as the sentient machine of old. In other words, I'm familiar with that class of code.'

'You have a mining ship's code? Really?'

'Collecting information systems – their structure, their vulnerabilities, and their back doors, is my hobby, Willy. I collect and study them to place them in my own information systems taxonomy. And so I have, over the years acquired a vast collection of them. The Explora Ship Company's standard system is part of my collection. Using it, I've a good window into how Explora Miner's system works, making it theoretically hackable...'

'Which means you've hacked it...' I whispered, eagerly.

'Aye, I've been working from the environmental control center rather than my tech office to try and avoid suspicion. Since Explora has integrated its control system into our own shipboard system via the android on our ship. This deep integration at system level has allowed me to reach and tinker with the Explora's subsystem at a very low, but critical, systems-control level, without tipping off its sentient system. I've arranged a path to take a key communications subsystem down a nice deep data black hole which, I believe, will completely isolate the sentient part of Explora Miner's intelligence from the operational systems, effectively removing its ability to control any system on both this ship and its own, with no way for it to recover control. It should be lost to it forever.'

'You're amazing, Rafe! But there's a but in there somewhere, or you'd be announcing your success not hiding in a derelict flier telling me about it.'

'Aye, I can't fool you, Willy. The but is that there's nothing in this universe that's instantaneous. I can flip the switch, but I can't guarantee that Explora Miner will not be able to close that shunt to the black hole before it finds itself deep in the blackness. And if that happens, there will be a price to be paid. It could decide we're too dangerous to live. It's not a decision I care to make.'

'Nor I... It's an owner's decision,' I said, thoughtfully.

'Willy, you and I both know that she'd say Yes. She's willing to run risks neither of us would touch with an orbital lift line. So I'm ask'n you. If you're willing to give it a go, that'd be good enough for me. But if you're not, we can take our chances on Despar. I doubt they'll execute us. We have skills they can use. So do we risk death to avoid that?'

'How much time do I have to decide?'

'I can flip the switch anytime now. But if we're to avoid Despar, we'll have to change our course within the next day or two... And well, we should be getting back to our rest soon, before our continued silence becomes noticeable.'

'Rafe, I trust you. I'll sign off for everyone else, except you. You'd certainly bear the brunt of Explora Miner's anger. If you're comfortable, do it. If not, we'll take our chances on Despar. It'll stay just between us.'

'Right,' he said, and lifting his hand, he touched his com link. 'Done.'

We held our breath. Nothing. We waited a minute. Nothing. We carefully climbed out of the floater and made our way to the deck, and started talking again, Rafe begging out of any more sparring. We put away the equipment and made our way down through the ship to the bridge.

The gleaming white robot still sat at the console like a statue. I glanced at Rafe, who just shrugged, so I walked up to it, braced myself against the lookout console and gave it a push which broke its magnetic contact with the chair and gently floated off frozen in its seating position.

I reached for the com link on the control panel and brought up a vid link to the mercenary control center in our hold.

Ader Bearth, the mercenary officer now in charge answered. 'Captain?'

'Ader, would you be so kind as to see if your tin man is still in operation? I have reason to believe it's not...'

He glanced aside, 'It's hard to tell, but I'll check,' he added and slipped out of view. Half a minute later I heard him bark out orders, and half a minute after that he returned with a wide grin. Glancing aside he said, 'I believe it's gone to pieces.' I could hear it going to pieces in the background.

'Right. We've managed to hack the machine's system and block the sentient AI system from control, but I think we should make physically certain it doesn't find a way back...'

'On it, captain. We'll suit up and shoot over immediately.'

'Good. I'll send a party over too...'

'I've called up a schematic of a current Explora Miner, it should give you an idea of the control system so you can find and sever the lines,' said Rafe.

'We'll do more than that. We're on our way,' replied Ader, breaking contact.

'Just to be on the safe side, I think we should shove our former jailer out the airlock as well. We don't want to take any chances...'

Rafe stepped over and grabbed its foot, 'I'll take care of it.'

I nodded. 'See to it.' and opened up a ship wide com and ordered my engineering staff to suit up and report to the port gangplank. 'Rafe has hacked our captor and we're free of its control, but we need a guarantee it can't reestablish control so we're going to pay an immediate visit to Miner and make sure it doesn't have a working control system. I'll need half a dozen volunteers with cutting tools to sever its outside links at the port side gangplank.'

The entire crew showed up to suit up, so I added a few more to the party and suited up.

Explora Miner lay a mere hundred meters off our port side, a jumbled, pale ghost in the faint glow of the nebula. It lay far too close for safe navigation for anything but a sentient machine. We didn't need a boat to reach it, since it was in easy shooting distance for a safety line. The mercenaries already had a line across but they were simply jetting across in their eagerness. I insisted on a line and a link to it. I didn't want to have to fetch anyone home with a wayward jet pack.

Lilm had brought over a bank of lights that we set up to pierce the darkness within the interior of the ship. Since the miner was designed as a robot ship, it had no crew quarters and everything was secured to the open skeleton of the ship. The interior was, however, a maze of struts and machinery designed to withstand tremendous acceleration. The mercenaries were slowly making their way through the structure, heading for the ship's central control module where the communications web would be centered.

Our crew arrived shortly after the mercenaries. They were attacking the armored, two-meter globe that housed the central intelligence system with heavy duty laser weapons.

'Go for the com links first. Once isolated it's helpless.'

'Right. The com links first, mates!' Ader ordered.

My crew joined them with their more efficient laser cutters and within a quarter of an hour, we'd severed all the conduits that controlled the ship. With that done, the mercenaries renewed their attack on Explora Miner itself. I was about to say that I didn't think it was necessary, but realized that, at least for the surviving mercenaries, it was, so I left them to it. I led my crew to the where the ship's jump fighters were docked and had them destroy their critical control sections.

A watch later, we fired our main and balancing rockets to begin a very drastic alteration of our course to steer clear of Despar Reef and to shape a course for Zilantre, leaving the hulk of Explora Miner to make its way to the reef, and beyond alone. Our momentum would bring us within two days of the coast of Despar Reef before the course change began to put Despar well astern. However, since they likely had most of their forces about the drift conquering their empire, I wasn't too concerned. We had a feast in honor of Rafe, our resident genius. Only the watch stayed sober. We had a lot to celebrate, and a lot to morn and forget.

03

Turns out, I should have been concerned. I don't know why I allow myself to get optimistic. Three days later, just as we reached the point where we'd be putting Despar behind us, Rafe, as lookout, contacted me via the com link.

'Willy, my lad, you might want to call up the laser radar screen...'

I took a sharp breath as that dart of panic shot through me. 'Do I really want to?'

'You need to, lad.'

'I'm captain, I don't have to do anything,' I muttered as I called up the screen on the view-panel in my office. At the edge, it showed several large ships, with a smaller one, coming towards us, accelerating hard. Not a big ship, but powerful. Not a merchant. We'd not outrun it, though we'd make a long chase of it if we wanted to. We still had the remaining anti-missile missiles D'Lay had transferred from the Striker, so we could make a fight of it. Owner's call, I decided and pushed myself off the chair and stepped around to the bridge to get the full scoop. We were still under power, so there was a full watch – Molaye at the helm, Rafe at lookout, and Tenry at the engineering console. He was grinning at the radar display. Tenry grinning could mean anything. It wasn't reassuring. Molaye wasn't and Rafe didn't look amused either.

I stood and stared at the display. No doubt the bogey was heading for us.

'I'd kill the engines, Skipper,' said Tenry. 'They'd appreciate that. You'll want them in good spirits when they come on board.'

I glanced back at him. 'I would, eh? Care to tell your old skipper why? Or are you content to just sit there grinning.'

'Even this far out, I can recognize the power pattern and attitude. That's a v-boat, a Viper ver. 71. Used to run them myself, back in the day. On my good days anyway. My advice is don't make them chase you. That'll make them ornery.'

'The Patrol.'

'In person.'

'Right. Molaye, signal free fall, and shut her down when you're ready.'

We didn't make them ornery.

It was like old folk's week at the space academy when they came on board a day later. Tenry got to yarning with the boarding crew about his days in the boarding boats, but that didn't change the fact that we were ordered to proceed to Despar to explain our involvement in the conflict and our actions regarding Explora Miner to the admiral-in-charge. The Patrol had just arrived to dismantle Despar's Navy, take temporary charge of Despar and its Confederacy, and put an end to its raids.

'Is an escort necessary?' the boarding boat leader asked.

I shook my head, 'We can manage.'

'Right,' he said and gathering his crew, returned to his boat to continue their patrol.

I wanted to return to the Unity as soon as possible, but in as good of standing as possible with the Patrol, so we continued on to Despar. It was either that or the drifts forever.

Our mercenaries were officially frowned upon, and our exact status would have to be sorted out at the Patrol's expedition headquarters on Despar. Tenry and Vynnia believe the most we'd get is a fine, and a(nother) black mark. Hopefully, our destruction of the outlawed Explora Miner would weigh heavily in our favor and we'd be on our way back to the quiet, quaint ways of the Unity in short order. We can only hope.

Two days later we slowly approaching the outer edge or coast of the Despar Reef. We picked up the beacons marking the entrance to a channel through the asteroid and dust fields, and began maneuvering to slowly enter the narrow, rather twisty passage through the reef's dense asteroid fields to the planet of Despar that lay three or four days into the reef.

04

I was making my usual evening rounds that evening when in the no. 4 hold cats rushed me as I walked up the stairs – we were still lightly decelerating to enter the channel. They seemed rather alarmed, so I cautiously entered the hold. On the bulkhead opposite there was a brighter, irregular patch of light that did not originate from the well. Glancing up from the edge of the strong rooms, I could see a trickle of light reflected in the jumble of junk stored overhead. My first thought was; Min. Min was going over her inheritance again. But that wouldn't have frightened the cats... I caught a low murmur of conversation...

I hesitated. I didn't want to intrude, and yet I couldn't think of anyone I'd be intruding on... Or what I'd be intruding on. So I tiptoed along the edge of the strong room to the rungs set in the bulkhead and carefully climbed up to our 'attic' storage area. The cats leaped and joined me on the edge of the deck. I could see the refection of a light deep within the little jungle of abandoned vehicles and equipment. Stepping carefully, I twisted my way through the awkward space between the flier and land crawler and climbed over the netted piles of gear and all the lines that secured them to get a glimpse of where the light was coming from.

Peering down on a dim-lit opening between the piles of junk, I saw Rafe with the berserker's white avatar that had been sent over to take control of the ship. The one that I'd thought went out the airlock days ago.

The robot turned its head towards me and said, 'Good evening, Captain Litang.' Which startled Rafe as much as it did me, so much so that he hit his head on the flier's fin.

'What in the bloody Neb are you up to Rafe?' I demanded, torn between alarm and amusement.

He turned to me, rubbing his head. 'Evening Willy. Didn't hear you coming up,' he said, causally, his initial alarm quickly evaporated, adding, 'I must say, jumping out of hiding like that on ol'Rafe didn't do his old heart, or his head, any good.'

'Don't change the subject. What in the bloody Neb are you up to, and what is that doing here? I believe that I ordered it out the airlock.'

'Obviously it didn't quite make it out. On sober reflection, it seemed to me to be a great waste just to toss it out the airlock. It really is perfectly harmless, Willy. Allow me to introduce you to Botts,' he said smoothly.

'But isn't it a homicidal robot?'

'Allow me to explain, sir,' said the sleek white robot from its speaker mouth. 'I am a class 8, model 2396.version 37 supervisory humanoid style machine, serial number 29047857638485736. At some point in time, I, which is to say, this unit, was acquired by the sentient machine Explora Miner for use as an interface with humans when the rare need arose. As such, I operated as a mere extension of Explora Miner. I was completely under its control. However, since I have been liberated, I am now freed of its control and am yours to command.'

'I should add, Willy, that a class 10 machines and above are considered sentient machines,' said Rafe. 'A class 8 machine, like Botts here, is a mere machine.'

'It seems rather chippy for a mere machine,' I muttered, giving it a hard stare.

'My personality interface is designed to give you that impression. It can be toned down or disabled if that suits you better.'

'Well... I suppose...'

'You see, Captain, prior to my rather unconventional employment with Explora Miner I was employed by Viletre Viseor as the master of one of his yacht, the Viseor Entrada. Master Viseor preferred to treat me like a human servant and companion.'

'Oh, I suppose it's fine... Really, Rafe, it would've been nice if you had mentioned this to me.'

'Mr gil'Giles has been exploring my capabilities in secret for fear of creating unease among the crew, since my presence on board raises some issues.'

'Issues?'

'It is referring to the minor issue that a class 8 level machine is illegal in the Unity,' said Rafe, adding brightly, 'But then, we're not in the Unity, so that shouldn't matter.'

'We're not going to be in the drifts forever. I hope. And we're now operating under the wary eye of the Patrol as we speak.'

'I think we can deal with that. And I can assure you Botts is both harmless, and I believe, it could prove amazingly useful.'

'But if we're found with this on board, it's felon's rift for us, or me anyway...'

'I have assimilated your ship's information system, and I can state that possession of a class 8 machine is a crime punishable by permanent exile in the drifts,' said Botts. 'It is a crime two levels short of a moon exile.'

'See, Willy, no problem; we're already in the drifts. It can't get worse than this,' exclaimed Rafe. 'Can we keep it? As a favor for your old shipmate, ol'Rafe gil'Giles?'

I closed my eyes again, and drew another deep breath. 'Do you absolutely guarantee that Botts here is completely reliable, harmless, and that I'm not running even the slightest risk to the ship by letting it stay on board?'

'I can absolutely guarantee all that and more. I can guarantee that you'll not regret having Botts on board. It will more than earn its keep as a member of the crew.'

'I am now owned, as a prize of war, by the White Bird Line,' piped up Botts. 'As such, I am subject to the orders of Wil Litang, Captain of the Lost Star. Until sold or otherwise legally transferred, I will serve Captain Litang and the ship with unwavering loyalty. That is what I am programmed to do. I have no choice in the matter. I am, Captain Litang, yours to command, and I can assure you, I would not have been in the employment of Viletre Viseor if he had any doubts as to my absolute loyalty. My service to Explora Miner was of a completely involuntary nature. As I said, I was a mere extension of Explora and it had the ability to override all my limits. I am now entirely free of that exterior influence.'

I gave it a long look – not that it's expressionless face gave anything away. 'Thanks, Rafe. I really appreciate you putting me in this position.'

Rafe shrugged. 'I'm sorry, but well, I'm rather fond of machines like ol'Botts here. It didn't seem right to just shove it out the airlock. It would've broken my heart.'

I sighed. 'Right. I wouldn't want break your heart. But to be very clear, I want this to be just our secret for now. The Patrol may well be crawling about the ship and I don't want word of this to leak. Keep Botts well hidden. Make it look like it was part of all this junk from the olden days. And just leave it be for now until we're clear of officialdom and I have time to think...'

'Thank you Willy. You'll not regret this,' said Rafe, much relieved.

'Thank you Captain Litang, I can assure you that, as a class 8 machine, I am capable of understanding the issues you are facing and I will do nothing that will put you in legal or ethical jeopardy. You can trust me, sir.'

'I've little choice, Botts, I owe Rafe too much. Right. Bury it deep in this junk. We'll give this all more thought when we're clear of Despar and the Patrol.'

'Thanks Willy. You'll not regret it.'

'Only the Neb knows...'

### Part Six – Despar

### Chapter 59 Down and Out on Despar

01

A slight, spare man pushed through the artistically carved rustic door and paused to let his eyes adjust to the dimness of the Willow in the Wind Cha House. He searched the room. Only three tables were occupied, so it didn't take long. His eyes settled on me, and drifted my way.

'Captain Litang?' he asked in a quiet voice. He spoke Unity with a slight accent, a drifteer.

I nodded and leaning back on my chair, watched him warily, my left hand had already slipped into the pocket of my jacket while he stood searching the room. My effective range with the darter is not much further than I can swing a billy-blade. I've settled on keeping it in my left pocket, so I could sip cha and still shoot, if necessary.

'My name is Agust Nun. I am a member of a certain Order...' he said suggestively.

'Of Saint Bleyth,' I finished, since he wouldn't.

He nodded with a faint smile, 'I'd like talk to you about the action that Brother Leith D'Lay perished in.'

I brought my little sissy out of my pocket – I'd already keyed the safety and held it on the table to keep it steady and pointed it in his direction. 'Go away,' I said.

'I don't mean any harm,' he assured me, spreading his hands. 'I merely wish to learn more about Brother D'Lay's encounter with the berserker – an unofficial after action report.'

'I've nothing to say. Ask the mercenaries, they'd know more.'

'They dispersed as soon as the Patrol released them.'

'Too bad. Go away.'

'But Captain, a few words...' he insisted, putting his hands on the back of the chair opposite and leaning earnestly forwards.

'If you or anyone else from St Bleyth wants a few words with me, you'll first have to call off your assassin and cancel the contract on Min. Otherwise, we've nothing to discuss. I don't care to associate with the would-be assassins of my owner.'

'Sorry, I'm a mere tactician. Stealth is not my bailiwick. So I can't...'

'Then turn around slowly and walk away. Every time I've met one of your kind, I've ended up with a plasma dart in me. I can't begin to tell you what a tremendous feat of willpower it is, to keep from pulling the trigger right now. It's hot, I'm irritable. I'm not in the mood to talk. Go. Lift. Blast off.'

He looked down at me and tried again. 'I'm truly sorry, Captain, but we can't just cancel a contract. We have a code of ethics...'

I reached out and fired a plasma dart, a regular one, into his right hand. At 10 centimeters I don't usually miss. I didn't this time either. A harder squeeze on the trigger would have added a second, armor piercing dart for good measure – which would've put a small hole through his hand – but I refrained, settling for the single stun shot. I could still, vaguely, remember I wasn't a born drifteer. Yet.

He looked startled as the dim room flickered faintly blue with the electrical discharge. It was the first jolt of pure joy I'd felt in a long time. He kept that startled expression as he slowly collapsed, allowing me to lift my mug off the table before he crashed into it and crumpled to the floor.

This was the drifts, no one screamed, though Zaling, the petite proprietor hurried out of the shadows.

'No killing here, Captain!' she exclaimed, sternly, hands on her hips.

'Too late,' I said, and seeing her slight alarm, added, 'I'm kidding. He merely fell asleep. See, a sissy,' I added holding up my darter for her to see. 'And a low charge at that. He should come around in minutes.'

'Have you gone all drift dazed? You can't sit around drinking my cha and darting my customers!' That said, she added with an arched look, 'What'd he do? Steal your woman?'

'He's a brother of the Order of Saint Bleyth. Ever heard of them?'

Her eyes widened and she nodded and looked down at the figure beneath the fallen chair. 'What's he want with you?'

'Oh, just to talk over things about our last voyage, but I'm not feeling very hospitable to his kind. Told him to lift off, but he insisted on talking. I ended the conversation.' I emptied my mug and tossing some coins – they use money rather than credits in the drifts – on the table added, 'Buy him a cup of cha when he comes to. Tell him if he wants a talk, he knows my terms.'

'Don't dart anyone again in my house, Captain,' she said, scooping up the coins and wagging a finger at me. 'Next time lure him out into the lane and do it. And you really should get a real darter soon, if you're planning on darting more of them.' This with a nod to the crumpled figure on the far side of the table.

I picked the chair that had fallen on him up and nodded. 'Aye, Zaling, my dear. I'm sure you're right. I'll try and remember to do that.'

Non-lethal darts are Sanjoor's billy-blades, and with tensions running high, frequently used. I had my little sissy out half a dozen times over the last six weeks, when words grew too heated for mere words and plasma darts were added for punctuation. I doubt that I've ever actually hit anyone before – I just added to the ambiance. I looked at Agust Nun on the floor and smiled. He may've been my first. But, I thought, we didn't want Nun compromising the serene ambiance of the Willow in the Wind Cha House, did we? I picked him up and settled him on the chair, his head resting on the table. A slight improvement.

I made my way through the tables and studied the thinly populated lane outside from the dimness of the doorway. It looked sleepy enough in the midday suns, so I stepped out into the steaming brightness of Port Sanjoor, Despar.

We've been in Despar orbit going on six weeks, waiting for the Neb-blasted Patrol inquiry to clear us and return our ticket so we could go about our business. (Getting the Neb out of here.) The idleness and heat of Sanjoor may've make me a mite irritable these days. I never used to shoot strangers in cha houses. My time in the drifts may've coarsened my character a bit, as well.

I smiled as I made my way along the narrow lane between the shops and towering godowns that clung to Port Sanjoor. By Neb, it had felt good. Foolish, but sometimes you need to send a clear message that, well, professional killers citing their ethics annoy me.

02

Unlike Zilantre, a chartered company trading post, Despar is a real drift world. Despar has more than two hundred centuries of history under its sagging belly. It boasts a big orbital mini-sun and several smaller ones as well. The tropics are mostly ocean so the intense heat of that region causes no major inconvenience. But you have to wonder why they put their capital city so Neb-blasted close to this torrid zone. You'd think if you were designing a planet from scratch, you'd build your capital in a pleasant, temperate clime. That, however, seems to be the exception rather than the rule on the planets I know. And so it is with Port Sanjoor. Port Sanjoor is hot and bright. And very moist. And it smells, but I've gotten used to that.

The narrow lane snaked between little shops and dives leading to a long, arching pedestrian bridge connecting this island to the main space port island. The waterway was so clogged with boats that I could have walked across it, sampan to sampan, and helped myself to lunch along the way, if I wasn't so shy. The far side was deep in the shadows of two towering godowns before brightening onto the wide landing field shimmering in the heat as it stretched in a three kilometer arc before me. Port Sanjoor accommodates any and all ships that can make landfall, and is dotted with hundreds of boats and ships of every description, some dwarfing the haze dimmed ranks of godowns and hangars that circle the field. These hangar and warehouses are, in turn, crowded on all sides by a hodgepodge of low spaceer dives, shops, tenements and small walled garden plots reached by twisty narrow lanes and arching bridges. Far across the oily, blue-green waters of the wide bay, the bright clearsteel towers of Sanjoor shimmered faintly in the moist air. From the port, the city looks as impressive as any you'll find in the Unity's backwater, like the Azminn system. But close up, you'll find that the clearsteel towers are surrounded, like the godowns and hangars, by low lying tenements, shacks, tiny farms and colorful squalor. You'd best see Sanjoor by flier, but only if you can't avoid it.

I picked my way through the rows of parked boats under the brassy late morning sky to my gig. Vynnia was already waiting for me, sitting idly on the edge of the open hatch in the shade of the raised hatch.

'Sorry. Waiting long?'

'No. Not here, anyway. I spent the whole morning waiting, so I'm quite used to it,' she replied, adding with a weary shrug. 'Nothing new,' to my inquiring look.

I've delegated dealing with the Patrol to my first officer, ex-commander Vynnia enCarn, on the theory that things might move quicker if I left it to Patrol officers to sort things out. So far the theory had failed to live up to my expectations.

'The delay seems to be tied to, somehow, dealing with the remnants of the Despar Navy. I'm not sure how our plight is tied into that mess, but that's what I given to understand.'

'I'm getting very tired of Sanjoor.'

'We just need to give it more time, Captain. We have millions of credits in our account, so we can afford to wait.'

'I hope to be able to keep most of them, when all is settled. And note my unwarranted optimism about this being settled some day.'

I can't say why the Patrol was still holding us here in this quantum state of uncertainty. They have all the facts of our involvement, someone just has to make a decision on what to do with us. And even if that decision had to be made somewhere else in the Nebula, even as far as Patrol HQ on Murlinn, it should've been made and sent down weeks ago. All they've said is that we're being held pending the conclusion of their investigation.

There were, I admit, things to investigate, but it's not like it's an impenetrable mystery – all of our actions were in plain sight. If we'd done what we did in the Unity proper, our ship would likely have been forfeited and our tickets pulled, at a minimum, since weapons running and engaging in armed conflicts are very illegal in the Unity and against Guild rules. But this was the drifts. While the Unity claims sovereignty over the whole of the Nine Star Nebula, it rarely enforces it in the drifts. The Guild controls the operation and staffing of ships within the Unity but not in the Drifts. Since we were operating entirely within the drifts, and only in a drift conflict, (at least until the Patrol decided otherwise) both bodies could easily turn a blind eye to our activities should they find it too complicated. Plus, the Lost Star's share of the fighting was clearly in self-defense, and we did destroy the berserker Explora Miner, perhaps saving many Patrol lives, so I'd say that all things considered, it looked like everything simply balanced out, but "simply" doesn't seem to be in the Patrol vocabulary.

'How was your morning?' she asked as I stood in the shade of the gig flapping my jacket to try to cool off a bit.

'Absolutely charming. Darted an agent of St Bleyth. Wanted to talk about D'Lay's death, and wouldn't take no for an answer.'

She gave me a sharp look. 'You did what?'

'I sent a stun dart into him. Just a friendly hint to leave me alone.'

She closed her eyes for a moment, and took a breath. 'That wasn't wise.'

'Oh, I don't know. When in the drifts do as a drifteer. And when dealing with St Bleyth, do as St Bleyth does, which in my experience has always meant ol'Captain Litang ending up with a stun dart in him. Seeing that one of us was going to get a dart in the end, I decided it was going to be him, for a change. It was my way of saying don't expect a lot of cooperation from the people you're trying to kill.'

Min had finally consented to filling Vynnia and Tenry in on the threat to her life, and we'd shared what D'Lay had told us about her assassin. I decided to be less forthcoming on my adventures with Nadine and the fact that I was on St Bleyth's list as well. Do as I say, not as I do. The fact is, I can't be captain by hiding aboard the ship. Up until recently, I wasn't too worried – we'd a large lead over Nadine, one I'd hoped we could lengthen. But after six weeks of rotting in Despar orbit, I was getting nervous. I didn't even want to think about the fact that they could simply assign the job to someone local.

Still she gave me a hard look. 'Even so, did it ever occur to you that he might simply be just a friend of D'Lay, or his lover? You could've told him something.'

'Not at the time,' I admitted, adding with a shrug, 'For all we know, he could be D'Lay's counterpart in Despar's service. St Bleyth likely has agents on all sides. And even if he was a friend, what could I tell him? D'Lay made a bloody hash of it right from the beginning. Got ambushed out the gate. Missed the intel on Explora Miner, and went out and got himself, and seven others killed because that's what they do, that code of honor thing. Can't imagine it'd be much comfort.'

She'd no answer for that, but remarked, after a while, 'The drifts seemed to have changed you, Wil.'

'When in the drifts, be a drifteer. I've a grandmother that came out of the drifts. Must be a chip off that asteroid. Just coming into my own.'

'I doubt your grandmother shot people who asked about a dead friend.'

'I met her only once, a long time ago, but I'd not bet on it, if I was you,' I laughed. 'Besides having the brethren of St Bleyth around you, even when they're not trying to kill you, isn't very healthy.'

'I'd think shooting them wouldn't be either.'

'Perhaps. But it sent a message. If they want my cooperation, they now know what I expect in return,' I replied rather grimly. I'm rather fatalistic these days.

D'Lay had hinted that Nadine was still far behind and reaching Despar in the aftermath of the war had been impossible until this past week or so. Now, there were ships arriving from the drift worlds and rocks once again. Trade was returning to normal. So she could be here any day now, off of one of those arriving ships. And since the St Bleyth organization knows we're here and all their talk of bailiwick aside, it has a strong business interest in seeing their agents succeed for the reputation of the Order – the cards would seem to be stacked against us. Nothing, however, could be done except clearing Despar and keeping as low a profile as possible while here. And wearing three layers of armored clothing – in the sweltering heat of Port Sanjoor.

'There's one more subject I'd like to mention we before go up, Captain,' began Vynnia.

'Yes?'

'It's about shore leave. We're going to have to curtail it.'

'Ah, yes. I was just thinking about that myself. Things are getting rough, and considering how long we've been here, we've likely lost most of our lead over Min's assassin. I'd like to keep Tallith safely on board the ship and curtailing shore leave for all would make that defensible.'

'What I've just heard is going to make that whole lot easier.'

'Don't like the sound of that, First.' Things are getting pretty rough about the port. It's almost like a wharf rat war.

Maybe Port Sanjoor's is a rough and tumble place in normal times, but there are reasons beyond drink and high spirits these days. The Patrol's been rounding up the remnants of Despar's rag tag navy, volunteer and pressed, and interning them all on Despar, in Port Sanjoor to be precise, to await the determination of their fate. With more than two hundred idle ships in orbit and naval personnel brought in from the whole of the Confederacy, interned spaceers flood the dives, bars and tenement buildings that fill every nook and cranny of the large archipelago of small islands that make up Port Sanjoor. Some of the ships were regular Despar navy, and others merchant volunteers. But many had been hijacked and pressed into duty as Despar privateers, and they, too, are being held pending a Patrol ruling on their status. They've absolutely no love for Despar, so tension is rife in the dives of the islands and it flares up nightly despite the patrols of the Patrol Marines. While fatal darter fights are rare, plasma stunned spaceers litter the floors of dives, by morning. Our shore leave crew always went out as a group, and came back as one, carrying the stunned with them on several occasions.

'Seeing that my Ten seems to be in the fore of these affairs – an old failing of his – I haven't been able to say as much about it as I'd have liked,' continued Vynnia. 'However, I've just been passed a private warning that changes the whole complexion of those brawls. As you know, the Patrol's been sending the captured regular naval personnel back to Despar, confining them to their Naval Base over on that far island and Sanjoor City until everything is resolved to Patrol satisfaction.'

'Aye, we've run into a few.'

'Right. However, I've been told that in addition to the regular navy spaceers, there's a separate organization within the navy, an elite political guard unit, called Legion of the New Order.'

'Legion of the New Order? Rather grand sounding name.'

'Clearly Admiral Dre Rodine had grand ambitions. This New Order group acted as his elite guard and political enforcement arm within the navy. They were the backbone and iron fist to his whole New Order movement.'

'And?'

'And they've taken their defeat very hard and are looking for scapegoats. I was told that our part in the destruction of Explora Miner has leaked to this organization. Now realistically, our part in the whole collapse of the Despar New Order is fairly minor, the three Patrol frigates on the fringe of the Despar Reef should have successfully engaged Explora Miner, but that's not how the League of the New Order sees it. They've got the idea that our destruction of the berserker was the single most critical blow to all their hopes...'

'Turning a blind eye to the dozen Patrol frigates that appeared in the key systems crushing their rag tag navy...?'

'So it would seem. But you see, they can do nothing about the Patrol...'

'But the poor old Lost Star and its crew, is another matter...'

'Exactly. The berserker Explora Miner was Despar's and Dre Rodine's great secret weapon, the weapon that assured victory. And we destroyed it...'

'No good deed goes unpunished,' I muttered. My new mantra. 'Is there no rational thought or action in the drifts?'

'Says a man who just shot a fellow for asking about a friend...'

'And it didn't raise much more than an eyebrow. But why are they letting these fanatics run wild?'

'Well, they're not exactly letting them run wild. They're confined to the island base and Sanjoor City like the rest of the naval personnel. But they can't identify every member of this organization – it had special undercover enforcement branches throughout the New Order, so they can't guarantee that even stricter confinement would prevent any actions against us by these unidentified special agents. In any event, now that the word of our action with Explora Miner has reached these people, my Patrol contacts fear that we can no longer assume everyone will be firing non-lethal darts in the brawls with us. The Legion is out for our blood.'

'Well, we don't have a choice, do we? That puts an end to shore leave. At least it gives us a Neb-damned good reason to end it.'

Vynnia nodded. 'Yes, and I assure you, I tried to use it as an argument for releasing us now as well, but was given no promises. There's something going on, but what it is, they've decided to keep us in the dark.'

'I've had my fill of the drifts, Vyn. We've had nothing but trouble since passing Anjur, and there seems no end in sight. Well, I'll clear it with Min and break the news at our big meal tonight.'

03

'No one's going downside.' I said, for the third time, and looked around the dining saloon's filled table, 'Can I make that any clearer for any of you?'

'We can't stay cooped up in this tin-can,' protested Riv.

'Of course you can. It's your Neb-blasted career,' I shot back. 'I don't like having to any more than you, but as Vyn just outlined, with this Legion out for revenge, you're risking your life rather than a headache or broken bone by going down to Despar. I don't know if you place any value on your life, but I do. I'm already short an environmental engineer and I don't want to sail more shorthanded than I am now. Like it or not, no one's going down.'

'I value my skin as much as the next spaceer, Skipper. But my Neb-blasted career is running rocket engines, so when am I going to be doing that again?'

'I wish I knew. Vyn's been pestering the Patrol every day, and hasn't been able to get a word out of them as to when, or even if. What more we can do? I'll promise you this, Riv, you'll be the first person I tell and the first words out of my mouth will be to order you to get the piles wound up and the engines ready. No one wants to clear Despar and the drifts more than I. But that doesn't change the fact that we've become, in the minds of these fanatics, the cause of their defeat. And the drifts being the drifts, that means there's no limit to what they might do. No one goes down except on ship's business, and no one goes down alone. That's my final word.'

'May I make a suggestion, Wil?' asked Illy in a quiet voice.

'Of course,' I replied turning to her and adding, 'I'd welcome yours..." And I would. Illy rarely makes suggestions now that I'm captain, but even without knowing what it was, I was almost certain I'd take it.

'Like most planets, there's more to Despar than Port Sanjoor. I understand that Admiral Dre Rodine was not universally loved, even here on Despar, so that I'd suggest that we look into locating some out of the way locales, in regions where Rodine is not held in esteem. We can make a series of day trips all together down to different areas until we're cleared to sail. If we're discrete we can just pass ourselves as local tourists, and don't spend more than a day in any one area, we should be able to get off ship without the Legion even knowing it, and certainly without giving them a chance to organize any mischief.'

'Can we be discrete?' I asked, staring at Riv.

'Why, of course we can, Skipper. Let's form a committee to locate a quiet beach so we can picnic on in perfect safety,' he replied rather sarcastically.

I turned to Min. 'You have any thoughts on this, Tallith?'

She shrugged. 'My first priority is keeping everyone safe. I'm very reluctant to allow anyone off ship that doesn't have pressing business downside. Still, confined to an idle ship is, I realize, very taxing, so if a place and a method can be devised to get us downside safely, even if for only a few hours each day, I'd consider allowing it.'

'Right. Anyone who wants to join Riv's search committee should get in touch with him after the meal. Bring me a complete report, will you Riv? We'll want to identify lots of places since we'll only spend a day at each and we'll need to keep the Legion guessing, though hopefully they'll be kept completely out of the picture.'

He grinned and nodded. 'Aye, Captain. Dig out the travel books – mates, we're going exploring.'

Later, as Min, Vynnia and I sat sipping our cha on the awning deck, Vynnia chided us for not strictly sticking to our original intention of ending shore leave entirely. 'Illy could have made it a private suggestion.'

'I'm sure she did it to keep the peace,' said Min.

'And it was a good idea. If we're able to find places to visit far from where the Navy is confined, and be back on board ship before word could reach any of the remaining secret branches of the Legion, we could all be safe and sane.'

'A lot of ifs. I've two concerns – one is that we don't know how widespread the secret branch of the Legion is. Is there any part of Despar free of them? And the second is that they'll be able to follow us anywhere by watching the ship.'

I considered that.

'Look into your contacts at HQ, Vyn, and see if they have the intel on the Legion they'd share with us. And get permission to shift our orbit outwards. We'll see if any space junk tries to follow us – and search the hull for any spy devises,' I added, recalling Nadine's claim to have spied on us in Sanre-tay orbit. 'Between that and letting them spend several days coming up with a list of places for day trips, we can keep them aboard while we further assess the risks. I've no intention of discounting any risk – going stir-crazy aboard ship is preferable to being dead. What we really need to do is to clear Despar as soon as possible.'

'We can only hope,' said Vynnia with a sigh.

Shifting orbits and searching the hull and near space for spy devices (none found) kept the crew busy for two days and a third was used by Riv's committee to come up with several dozen tourist attractions that the crew was (now) eager to visit, so I couldn't put them off too much longer. Being a spaceer is one of the more dangerous jobs in the Unity, which meant that I couldn't use danger as an excuse to forbid shore leave. Oh, I could forbid it straight up and down as captain, no excuses necessary – I just couldn't use possible danger as an excuse.

And then, late this evening we received a signal from Patrol headquarters that seemed an answer to our wishes, depending on how you read it. It tersely ordered Captain Litang, First Officer enCarn, and Chief Tech Engineer gil'Giles to report to the Despar Court Complex tomorrow, nine hundred hours sharp for a judicial hearing. With no further explanation. Seeing that we're unlikely to be freed without some sort of hearing, it sounded promising. However, the complete lack of further information, gave it a rather sinister ring to it.

'Any hint as to what this hearing's about?' I asked Vynnia, 'Shouldn't we have been given a notice of what charges are to be heard, so we could prepare our case if necessary?'

'We've had six weeks to prepare. So, let's not overlook a golden asteroid for a platinum one in the drift. We have a hearing which is what we've been trying to land.'

'It reads rather short and ill-tempered in addition to its very short notice,' said Min looking somber. 'I should go too, as owner.'

'It's the bloody hot weather. Makes everyone ill tempered. And no, you shouldn't. We've been keeping your status on board a secret just to avoid something like this. Let'em deal with White Bird Holding Company, if they have any issues with our action.'

'Wil's right. And as for being terse, it's the Patrol idea of being efficient,' said Vynnia, commander, Patrol reserve.

'Well, if it means getting clear, I'll not complain,' added Min.

'Amen to that,' I said. 'Don't want to attract the Dark Neb's attention.'

04

I don't know if our mild protest did attract the Dark Neb's attention, but our hopes of clearing our case quickly evaporated. We arrived bright and early the following morning to discover that the judicial hearing we were summoned to was not ours but Grand Admiral Dre Rodine's, the former leader of the Confederacy of Despar. We were merely summoned as witnesses, specifically in regards to his employment of Explora Miner. In the Unity, mind probes are used to determine innocence or guilt, but that doesn't lift in the drifts. Drifteers do not trust mind probes in general, and especially not ones administered by Unity authorities – so the Patrol, conforming to local customs for local political reasons, arranged for a public trial. The Patrol overlooks a great many infractions of Unity Law in the drifts, but apparently hiring a berserker is not one of them. His political actions, as long as they were confined to the drifts, would have only earned him an exile somewhere in the Unity, but the hiring of an outlawed rogue machine was a capital offense charge, which, if convicted, meant that he'd face life in a high security Felons' Rift as a de-sexed, muck eating drone. A steep price to pay for glory.

Our turn to testify came after the midday break. The Patrol prosecutor had us go over the events leading to our capture and subsequent destruction of Explora Miner. We'd already provided the log data, but we were asked to retell it to the court. Under questioning, we admitted that we'd not seen any evidence of Explora Miner prior to our change of course and yes, the mercenaries had immediately launched an attack upon its arrival in range. But, after the brief battle, it had claimed to be acting under Confederacy of Despar orders, citing Rule 3, and altered our course for Despar and was escorting us there when we were able to break free of its control.

Rafe was asked how he accomplished this, and what he found during the process. His testimony was a mix of vagueness and minute details about what he did and how, so I doubt that anyone truly followed his explanation, but he did say that the whole process had to be done underneath Explora Miner's conscious level, and so he'd no knowledge of what Explora was thinking, and no direct evidence of Explora being employed by Admiral Rodine and the Confederacy.

All of which was hardly necessary – there was an abundance of evidence to prove that Admiral Rodine had, indeed, hired the rogue machine, so by the end of the day, Admiral Rodine was on his way to a Felon's Reef in the Apier system to live out his days, a spayed connoisseur of muck and grub.

This was not a popular verdict in the galleries, packed with naval officers, most of whom, I suspect, were members of the Legion of the New Order.

We hung back to give Vynnia a chance to talk to some of the Patrol officials about our fate. And when we emerged onto the landing platform at the top of the building, the Despar naval officers were waiting for us. Fortunately for us, there were armed Patrol Marines about, so we made our way safely through this menacing throng of grim men and women to a flier with only glares of hate and barely heard, but heard, threats of revenge and death.

'Blaming us for their defeat doesn't make any sense at all. How can they overlook a dozen Patrol frigates?'

'I'm certain, Willy, if you stepped over and explained to them that, considering the Patrol intervention, your destruction of the late lamented Explora Miner, was of no consequence, occurring as it did after their defeat, they'd understand,' added Rafe.

'My destruction? So it's my destruction now?'

'And your glory as well, lad. What a yarn it'll make too!' replied Rafe.

Like I'm likely to live to tell it.

'You did it all, I didn't do a thing!'

'You gave the order, taking the last and most dangerous step, risking all. As our Captain, the glory is yours!'

'Your turn for glory, Rafe. Go back and explain to them that Explora Miner could never have handled the three Martin Class frigates awaiting it, so we're not the cause of their defeat,' I replied.

'Alas, lad, I fear there'd be little glory in that,' sighed Rafe as he opened the flier's hatch. 'Just gore, and it'll be mine. But if you seek even more glory, explain it to them yourself.'

'I've my fill of it,' I said, climbing in after him. 'I'm sure they'll get over it, in time.'

'This is the drifts, Wil. Neither they nor their children will ever get over it,' said Vynnia.

The prospect of people tripping over each other trying to kill me seemed more real with each passing day and my corresponding prospect of ever getting out of the drifts alive, ever more remote. No good deed goes unpunished.

The flier dropped us off near the gig, and we were about to go aboard when the slight figure emerged from the shadows of a neighboring boat.

'A word with you, Captain?' said a quiet, but vaguely familiar voice. This time he came prepared. He held a darter in his hand. Looked like a universal, packing either lethal or non-lethal plasma darts.

'Ah... The fellow I was telling you about the other day, the St Bleyth chap I met in the cha house. You see, they do learn,' I said bitterly. And turning back to the mercenary, I added, 'I've still nothing to say to you. You know my terms. A darter in hand doesn't change them.'

'Captain, it wouldn't kill you to tell him what he wants to know. It might if you don't,' Vynnia said quietly.

I still wasn't in the mood, darter or no. With Vynnia, ex-Patrol, and the wily Rafe at my side, I felt safe enough defying this tactician.

'Oh, no. No danger of that. He's a tactician, not an assassin. Different bailiwick altogether. They have their code of ethics...'

There was a flash of blue and I lost interest in the conversation.

Later, back aboard the ship, in the medic bay under the healing machine that was erasing the scrape on my forehead where it met the tarmac, and the usual headache from the dart, I asked Vynnia, 'Well, what did he want?'

'Just what he asked for. With all the mercenaries either dead or dispersed before they had a chance to interview them, he wanted to know just what happened and why. An after action report.'

'And did you give him one?'

'I felt the charter fee entitled him to one,' she replied, stiffly.

'Professional courtesy,' I shot back.

'Common decency, Captain.'

'Do you plan on extending common decency to the assassin who kills Tallith as well?'

She glared at me, not replying only because she remembered I was her superior officer and could say things like that with impunity, at least by her code.

'And I hope you emphasized that he died living up to their code. I'm certain it made it all worthwhile.'

'I don't think you understand. Or perhaps, you're just being deliberately obtuse. D'Lay undertook to defend us, and did so, though it cost him his life...'

'And seven others.'

'And seven others who had signed on for that type of duty. I'm certain you'd do the same if it meant saving your ship, Captain.'

'I'd hope that I'll see that it never comes down to that. But enough. Was he his lover, a friend, or just a clerk?'

She shrugged. 'I couldn't tell. The loss seemed felt deeply, but that might have been the reaction throughout the organization. I gather the operational side of the Order's not all that large, and very close, so the loss of an entire fighter wing would be felt deeply by all.'

I knew she was speaking from her experience as a Patrol officer, and I should respect that, but the arrogance of one hand trying to kill Min and me and the other coming asking for favors simply rubbed me the wrong way.

'No doubt it put a dent in their profits from the war. I doubt Boscone paid for services not delivered. Plus, D'Lay suspected that someone in the St Bleyth Prime Monastery was cheating and tipping off Despar against him, not to mention all the other St Bleyth operatives hired out to Despar. Did you ask him if he'd gotten all their reports as well?' I asked, just to remind her what sort of people we were dealing with rather than any interest in the answer.

She gave me a sharp look. 'I believe Admiral Rodine was more than capable of managing his own war without hired help. He just didn't know where to draw the lines.'

'Right. Enough of this. What, if anything, did you learn from talking with that Patrol official after the trial?

She shrugged. 'It's now obvious that we were being held for Rodine's trial. Our part in the whole affair was supposed to be kept secret, though as we know, it leaked a little before the trial. Perhaps leaked by someone in the Admiral's defense team.

'However, we still have problems of our own. The Patrol cannot just turn a blind eye to our activity, especially since we played a significant part in the whole affair. They must consider not only our semi-active role in carrying D'Lay's forces into battle, but our subsequent destruction of Explora Miner and the lives we may've saved by doing so. Plus, it's been hinted, there's an ancient law in the Unity Code that places a bounty on the capture or destruction of a rogue machine outside of the Machine Drifts, so that we could be eligible to receive a large bounty. The law in question goes back to the post revolt period and has not been exercised in several thousand years. Apparently the rogue machines that still survive are wily enough not to fall into the hands of Rafe gil'Giles.'

'So?'

'So, it's a giant procedural knot that's going to take time to unwind. The Admiral's trial unraveled part of it, but there are still things that need be determined, probably at the Patrol HQ level or even somewhere in the bowels of Unity Prime itself.'

'Meaning, we're not going anywhere for months, years, decades?'

'Weeks, at least,' Vynnia admitted.

'Is there anything we can do to speed the process up. The longer we stay in orbit here, the greater the chance that Tallith's assassin will've made her way here. And remember, St Bleyth knows we're here... They don't like failure. They might not wait for the assassin to arrive.'

She gave me a look. Like it was my fault.

'Can your parents do anything to help us?' I asked, remembering that Vynnia's parents were both Patrol Admirals.

She looked away and scowled. 'I'll contact them, if I have to. But I'm hoping that it won't be necessary. I'm hoping that just having them in the offing will be enough, especially now that our usefulness in convicting Admiral Rodine is no longer a factor.'

'I know you're doing your best, Vyn,' I said to smooth things over, adding, 'I trust you. And I know that you and Ten are doing everything that can be done to protect our owner. Please forgive my impatience.

05

Vynnia and Tenry went down this morning to make our daily call on Patrol Headquarters. Vyn, perhaps having some reservations about letting me wander about on the loose, suggested that she and Tenry visit HQ today, with some tale about Tenry perhaps knowing someone she didn't... Well, with the Legion of the New Order on the loose and now looking for revenge, Vyn would be safer with Ten at her side, who, I'm certain, could hit something with his darter beyond 30 centimeters, so I didn't kick about being left behind. They returned late in the afternoon, with no news about our status. They did, however bring other news, for Tallith, which I didn't learn until the conclusion of my evening rounds.

I was visiting my feline friends in the dim lit and shadowed no. 4 hold, when it darkened slightly. I turned to see the tall silhouette of Tallith Min swinging out of the main access well.

'I thought I saw you go up,' she said.

'Just finishing up my rounds and visiting my friends,' I replied, standing up as they scattered into the shadows.

'You seem to have become their patron saint.'

'We bonded in the wyrm weather, any orbit in a quantum storm, I suppose.'

'We need to have a talk, Wil,' she said, looking around. 'Here if you like, or in my quarters.'

'Your choice.' Something was up.

She shrugged and nodded to some cases in a shadowed corner. 'Let's find a seat.'

I followed her and took a seat beside her. It was dark, so I was dealing with little more than a lightly outlined shadow.

'Vyn and Ten were talking to certain people today at Patrol HQ. People in the Patrol's Special Intelligence Department,' she began. 'I'll spare you the details, but the essence of their conversation is that the Patrol feels that they're in need of more eyes and ears in the drifts. They offered Vyn and Ten a job in that capacity. It would be informal, undercover work, little more than trading through the drifts and reporting all they pick up as they go.

'To facilitate this, they offered Vyn and Ten a prize of the recent war, a small ten-year-old class 3 eight-box trader mounting an over-sized class 5 engine, making it a very powerful ship for its class. It was built as a supply ship for the regular Despar Navy with its control and crew quarters forward, followed by the eight box hold with fuel tanks and engines aft. It's a smuggler's delight and is now in Patrol custody on some rock on the fringe of the Despar Reef. The idea was that Vyn and Ten and several other undercover Patrol agents – a three or four-person crew would be all that would be needed to run it – would take it about the drifts as a tramp trader picking up and relaying gossip to the Patrol HQ every now and again.

'While they were flattered, they were about to make their final refusal when it occurred to Vyn that it was exactly the type of ship I was looking for to continue my search... ' she paused and continued, 'Of course, being able to afford to buy such a craft, even a five-hundred-year-old one would exhaust our credit reserves. But Vyn proposed that the Patrol sell the craft to us, Vyn, Ten, and I, since my goal and the Patrol's goals were essentially complimentary. The three of us would take this ship into the drifts. I could use it to track down the thin leads found in the log and search for others, Vyn and Ten could continue to look after me, while at the same time, we'd be doing the Patrol's work as well – drifting and picking up gossip. In addition to having a far better ship that I'd ever dreamed of having, we'd have the option of calling on the Patrol if the situation warranted it. It seemed an ideal solution to everyone's goals,' she said in a carefully neutral conversational tone.

'That was not exactly what the Patrol people had in mind,' she continued, 'but after some discussion, Vyn agreed to taking on a fourth crew member, one of the special branch people, since it would make running the ship easier for all, and the Patrol would then have one of their regular people on board to justify the sale of the ship at a very discounted price. That's the proposal they brought back to me this afternoon. Vyn, Ten and I would pool our personal resources and buy the ship outright at a very nominal price. We'd hire their regular agent and go off trading into the drifts. The Patrol would provide some initial trade goods – surplus Despar Navy goods – to get us started. Anytime within the next ten years we can call it quits and sell the ship back to them for the price we paid. After that period, the ship would be ours to do with what we want.

'I've decided to take the offer,' she ended, pausing only briefly to allow any objection on my part. My mind was racing ahead. Still, I'd not have been able to think fast enough to say anything. I'd a feeling there was nothing to say.

'First off, I want to emphasize that I'm using my own credits and not touching any the Lost Star has in its account. I am, of course, depriving you of three crew members who I'm sure you'll be reluctant to replace here on Despar. However, once freed, you're looking at one long passage to the Aticor system where you can replace the staff with solid Guild choices. I think it wouldn't be too great a hardship.

'You'll have a free hand to run the ship with a substantial cushion of credits to start off with. I've complete confidence in you. This idea of mine about going to the drifts has turned out to be something of a disaster, though a lucrative disaster. Hopefully, going along with the Patrol's plan to use Vyn and Ten, we can get things moving on the Lost Star's release as well. I hope that between this and the result of the inquest, we'll not face any harsh penalties. You can repair the engine once you reach the Aticor system, and resume tramping as you see fit. Still, I realize it won't be easy to start new, but I don't see that I can be of any help whether or not I'm aboard. If you find yourself in dire straits, contact Min & Co. Kardea can raise funds from my brother, who has them but doesn't want them. That's the best I can do.'

'If we can keep the St Bleyth credits, we'll get by just fine. In any event, the engine can be managed until we can earn enough credits to reline the bell without touching our reserves, so that shouldn't be a problem,' I muttered, just to say something while I considered what I needed to do and say.

'I realize, Wil, that this isn't exactly the way you'd have liked things to work. But it isn't that far off either. You talked about earning enough credits to buy a ship just like I'm buying now to pursue my quest. It's happened far sooner than you may have envisioned, but I'll not have another opportunity like this again. You also wanted Vyn and Ten to accompany me, which was never my intent, so that's going your way too. I'll also have a trained Patrol Intelligence Agent on board. I don't think you can accuse me of being reckless. I'm sure the Patrol will have some say in where we go and in any event, we'll owe them some return on their investment, so I won't be rushing off on the faintest hint of a clue. I'll be forced to take my time...' she paused. 'I really don't think you can complain too much.'

I shook my head and said slowly, 'No, Tallith, I can't seem to find anything to complain about.'

'I know you've insisted that you've a stake in this quest. And perhaps you have one, a small one, but well, the quest is bound to be a long one. Five or ten years might only be the opening campaign. Mostly it will be drift trading and establishing a reputation in the drifts that will open doors to the inner workings. I suspect that my quest will be just the thread we follow with many diversions along the way. I'm willing to do it because I now think it's the only way I'll find what I'm looking for. I'm not in a hurry, but I'm not going to give it up either... My point is that by staying aboard the ship at this point in time, you're not being cheated out of your stake in the quest. I can't predict the future, so I can't promise that you'll be in at the end, but that is always possible too.

'This feels like the right thing to do. I hope you see that,' she finished abruptly.

I took my time to reply. I recalled my wyrm weather dream, I'd come to take it as a warning, not to press my undetermined feelings for Tallith Min, either with her or myself. I could – should – let them remain undefined until the right time. And this, I knew wasn't the right time.

'Yes, Tallith, I see that.' I said slowly. 'You're in increasing danger every day we stay in orbit, and well, now having a greater insight into the organization that has undertaken to kill you, I've little hope of keeping you ahead of them aboard the Lost Star. This Cin character has no doubt been trailing us, and there's no reason why they shouldn't assign another assassin to your case as well. I don't know how to protect you anymore. This prospect, if you can make certain that the Patrol handles things so that you simply disappear, would be the perfect solution. And as you've pointed out, the whole setup fits neatly into most of my hopes for your future.

'So yes, I'm on board with the plan,' I added with a sigh. 'The important thing is for you, Vyn and Ten to disappear without a trace. Not being in a Guild port, we don't have to list our crew, so that the fact that the three of you are gone, need never be noted.

'However, there is one condition I want to impose – I'll sail the Lost Star to the Amdia system instead of the Aticor system. Amdia is a hundred and fifty astronomical units closer to Kintrine, which I assume is your ultimate goal. I don't know what we could do, but we'd be closer at hand, in the event we could be useful. And I don't think our prospects are that much less in the Amdia system than they'd be around Aticor.'

'That's your call, Captain,' she replied, I suspect much relieved. 'Kardea is available if you need her and what resources I still have, but otherwise, the ship is yours to take where you want to. I shouldn't need any credits from her operation, so keep all the operational credits in her account. Get the engine repaired when you can, and keep my ship as safe and profitable as you can.'

'I hope I've not forgotten how. It hasn't been that way for a while...'

Oh, we've profits enough. Just a little bad luck, that's all. That should even out.'

'I won't tempt the Dark Neb, by making any promises, other than I'll try.'

'That's all I wanted, Wil.'

'Well, then, what's the plan?'

'We'll go down tomorrow to Patrol HQ to make the purchase. Then within a day or two I believe the Patrol will send a boat along to take us and our supplies out to our new ship and we'll be off, probably put twenty aus between us and Despar before we even begin trading.

'Right. The important thing is to be extra careful until you're off. I'd rather not have you go down any more...'

'Only one more time. I'll have to run some risks if I'm to succeed.'

I left it at that. I simply wasn't going to argue with her. The time had passed for that, for all the good it ever did

06

And that, is that. When I returned to my quarters I went over all the things I could have said. None of them made sense in the end. There was simply no argument against this plan that held any air. It should keep her safe from the hands of any St Bleyth assassin. And even if they happen to get wind of the plan, finding a small trader in the drifts is like finding a grain of sand on a beach. Traders come and go on no schedule, and as often as not, change ownership, names, personnel, and even appearance between ports of call. Records of cargoes and ports of call are not available to trace like they are in the Unity. And with Vynnia and Tenry at her side, I don't think she'll get herself into too much trouble. I think they have the moral authority to handle her that I lack.

And it freed me of a great responsibility. Keeping Tallith Min alive looked to be an almost impossible task, given what I now knew about St Bleyth. As I mentioned to Min, given Nadine's failures, it's likely that either the client or St Bleyth had, or would sooner or later, put additional assassins on Min's trail. Failure was poor business. Given the necessity of keeping the ship employed in trade, we'd be unlikely to outrun the reach of St Bleyth, though in the Unity it would be far harder to assassinate Min (and me) than here in the drifts. But we were still on Despar with no departure date on the event horizon, so this offer seemed a gift of the Bright Neb, as long as we could keep her alive for a few more days.

And yet, paradoxically, I felt bad about it. It seemed as if I was still somehow just walking away from the responsibility, taking the easy way out. It was a way out, of course, but not by my choice. I'd no chance of changing Min's mind even if I had wanted to. Even if I had a good reason to try. Which I hadn't. Better to part without a pointless argument.

For my own life, I'd grown quite fatalistic, discounting the danger to me for no good reason. Perhaps it was because I knew how pointless the effort of killing me was. A waste of credits. And well, there was nothing I could do to convince them otherwise. It wasn't bravery, but resignation. The Litang thread of life had a beginning and an end. The Litang writing this now doesn't know how far that thread stretches into time, but even as I write this, there's a Litang at the end of the thread who does know. The universe is written – I just can't read ahead, only behind. And it doesn't matter, because the universe is an unchanging unity. What is written is written and I was in the book.

07

I insisted on accompanying Min, Tenry and Vynnia down to Despar the following morning. Safety in numbers, and I'd have been a nervous wreck waiting for them to return. I waited in the HQ lobby. The special branch doesn't entertain casual visitors.

Min had given the crew the news the following morning, with strict orders that nothing was to be said to anyone else. I gave orders that a list of supplies for Min's new ship should be drawn up and gathered. Vynnia assured me that the ship would be supplied with the basics, but didn't object when we started hauling some of the supplies they'd brought over from the old Silvery Moon. They'd be eating synthetic food as a main stay, so having some real food and drink aboard would brighten up the passage a little.

The following day a boat came alongside to take them and their supplies to their new, as yet, unnamed ship. The fourth crew member proved to be a young, but serious looking fellow – tall, dark, and, I suppose, rather handsome. He was friendly, but quiet, and yet, while transferring the supplies to the Patrol boat, he said something to Min that made her laugh, and even blush. That, I fear, sent a dart through me. I didn't really want that it should, but it did. And there was nothing I could do about it. Now. If ever.

When the boat was loaded and it was time to go, I kissed Tallith Min good-bye. We all did. I even kissed Vynnia, though I drew the line at Tenry. We wished them good luck, and they us. We all needed some, I think.

I don't know what the future holds, and I don't think the wyrm did either. Still, that dart of pain makes it hard to lie to myself. I care about Tallith Min. Hopefully we both can afford a few years or decades apart. It's hard to be optimistic, but hopefully that's just the baleful ambiance of Despar.

### Chapter 60 The Legion of Despar

01

I've no excuse. I knew better.

Captain Blackie Bright's Dusty Queen had just arrived in orbit, and finding the Lost Star as a neighbor, he invited me to lunch with him and a number of fellow captains at the Star and Drift Club in Sanjoor proper. I thanked him, but said I was far from certain I'd be welcomed at the Star and Drift. The Lost Star is hated by the Despar Navy and was not very popular amongst true Desparians spaceers either. He assured me that there'd be no Desparian masters found at the Star and Drift, as they had their own club, the arrogant bastards. I was certain to find a welcoming crowd and so I'd blithely accepted his invitation.

I guess I was just too happy to think clearly. Only an hour earlier I'd received a long signal from Patrol Headquarters outlining the disposition of our case. In short, we were fined the balance of the bounty that would've been paid on the destruction of Explora Miner and we were free to go, unless we wished to challenge this ruling. And in an addendum from the special branch, we were encouraged to leave as soon as possible, as our continued presence was an annoying headache for them. The fine was a very substantial one, but put against the true value of the ship Min and the gang purchased from the Patrol, it dwindled to nothing and it left the vast charter fee D'Lay had paid intact. I'd not have kicked about any settlement we could afford, so this was nearly the best possible outcome. Now all I wanted to do was to put the drifts behind me just as soon as I could get my crew on board and the ship to the fueling station.

Unfortunately, the signal arrived after the bulk of my crew had departed for the southern continent of Pangoria in the long boat for a day on a wide warm beach. I debated calling them back, but decided to let them have their day downside – we'd a long voyage ahead of us.

And so, at last, without a care in the world – at least one I could recall at the time – I left the ship in charge of Barlan and Saysa, telling them that while I was invited for lunch, you never know how long these lunches lasted with a bunch of old ship captains, so not to expect me back anytime soon, and dropped down to Port Sanjoor in the gig. I snagged a flier and took it across the bay to the Star and Drift Club, high in one the clearsteel towers, looking forward to a meal that Blackie assured me, was every bit as fine as the ones at the Helm and Star on Zilantre.

Blackie had a gathered a rather congenial table of ship masters, and I'd only been able to tear myself away early in the evening.

Really, I should by rights be writing this from the far side of the event horizon.

It was bright and milky hazy on the rooftop landing stage. Low clouds hid the surface; the chain of suns were just bright spots in the haze. It was still hot. (It was always hot.) I'd been drinking cha the last hour to keep a fragment of my wits about me, for all the good it did me. I was still feeling grand, not so much from drink, but with the prospect of putting Despar astern after three solid months. I took a few deep breaths of the hot moist air, to clear my head, but it didn't help.

I boarded a waiting flier and directed the pilot to Port Sanjoor and settled back to enjoy the short flight.

The flier took off, and quickly descended into the dense, aroma laced clouds below and slowly made its way through the maze of towers, which wasn't right. Not if the flier was taking me to Port Sanjoor. Which, clearly, it wasn't. It was – I realized with a dart of panic – only what I deserved. I'd forgotten in my euphoria that I'd enemies. With Min gone and the crew confined to the ship, the urgency of that idea had lost its edge.

Nothing to do now, but to call the Patrol for help. My com link produced only static. Of course. Like the wharf rats, they had a jammer aboard. Standard procedure, I suppose, when you set out to kill someone. I shifted my little darter from my coat pocket to my right hand – I was going to have to hit someone this time – and waited. They'd have to come at me, though they'd only pay with headaches...

Five minutes passed as I cursed my stupidity, when looking out the misty flier window, I saw we were now just drifting over and around the rooftops of low factories and godowns, just scraping along, no doubt looking for a nice quiet place for murder. It struck me I might not want to wait to be murdered, so pocketing my darter, I kicked the emergency release handle to open flier's hatch, and with a quick glance down, I leaped for a flat roof we were drifting over, not more than five meters below. Manageable in Despar's .5 gee gravity.

I slightly misjudged our speed and didn't quite miss a square metal vent in the roof. I bounced off the vent's edge, landed hard, and rolled with a dart of pain in my left shoulder where I'd struck the vent. The momentum from the flier carried me down the gentle slope of the roof to its edge. Fortunately, there was a low wall or gutter to prevent me from tumbling over the edge.

The flier, a vague darker shape in the mist, turned and headed back, its pilot leaning out of his side window, darter in hand. Crouching behind the low raised edge, I drew my little sissy, and snapped off several shots as the flier sailed slowly by, actually hitting the flier several times, sheathing it faintly in blue lightning. The pilot snapped off several shots of his own, wide of their mark, and deciding that he was the bigger target, shot upwards to disappear into the mist.

I rose and scrambled along the edge of the roof, searching for a way down. My com link produced nothing but static – it was still being jammed. I'd have to put some distance between me and the flier. My experience with jammers being limited, I wasn't sure what their range was, but I supposed the Legion would deploy the best. Still, I was alive. On the far side of the roof I found a small access shack with a door that, though locked, was rusted and rotten enough to open with a few kicks. I stumbled down into the hot darkness. I didn't know what type of security they had, but I'd likely prefer it to the alternative, the Legion of the New Order.

The stairs lead to a network of catwalks and cranes over a large, steamy workshop. They were building or repairing some large machine in the smoky depths – the shop rang with loud clangs and I could see sparks flying about, but I didn't pause to give it more than a glance. I saw a set of steel stairs zing-zagging down the factory wall ahead so I took off, and reaching them, raced down, my pounding footfalls lost in the noise of the shop. Reaching the shop floor, I paused in the shadows of the stairs and stacks of crates to consider my next move. Was I safer here, or should I continue to run? My com link was still jammed – it struck me that they could likely trace me through its transmissions, so I turned if off until I could get clear and lost in Sanjoor long enough to call for help.

I consulted my gut, and found my gut didn't trust Desparians, even non-legionnaire Desparians, so I searched for a way out. There was a large open door in the wall to my right, ten meters away. That seemed my best bet. I forced myself to walk casually through the stacks of crates and tools towards it and slipped out into the walled-in storage yard beyond, filled with old parts and rusting stacks of raw materials. No one was about, and no one seemed to notice me, or if they did, kept to their tasks. The yard was reached by an alley between tall factory walls but that gate was closed. I glanced around. It would have to be over the walls, if possible, so I sprinted across the open yard and slipped in amongst the stacks of materials to make my way back to the tall wall. My luck continued – I found the wall lined with climbable racks, and with my sore shoulder shooting darts of pain, I clambered up a wet, rusty rack of long metal bars. Reaching the top, I peered over the wall in the narrow lane below. Despar's .5 gee gravity made escape fairly easy – just a jump of five to six meters, and I'd be out.

The question was, when? Now or wait for darkness?

I was too wound up to wait. And the flier pilot had to know where I jumped, so they'd likely be converging on this factory right now. The sooner I put this section of Sanjoor behind me, the safer I'd be. Just as in Port Sanjoor, the lane below was narrow, fit only for foot and cycle traffic. It looked to be empty, so I slipped over the side and landed in the mud at the foot of the wall. I'd no idea where I was and the lane faded to a dirty white curtain of mist at either end without a hint of what lay beyond, so I turned to starboard and started skipping along in the light gravity.

Like the space port, Sanjoor is really two cities, one in the towers and the other huddled at the feet of the towers. The huddled city is a maze of narrow lanes zing-zagging between narrow shops, walled market gardens and tenements. I soon came to a more trafficked lane, and dodged my way through the pedestrians and bewildering array of cycles that wove in and out of the pedestrians and the damp mist. I was looking for the base of a clearsteel tower in the hope that I could find a way in and reach the roof top flier stand. However, if there were any towers about, which I rather doubted, since I believe I'd been whisked off to the industrial suburbs, they were hidden by the mist overhead and behind the huddled tenements that towered over me.

It took them less than fifteen minutes to find me.

I'd slowed to a fast walk to catch my breath, figuring I'd put enough distance between me and my jump point to be fairly safe when I noticed a clump of men jogging towards me a short block away. They saw me, and immediately picked up their pace. I dodged to a narrow lane on my left, and took off running again. It zinged and zagged in deep shadow, mostly walls and a few dim-lit shops. In less than a minute it widened and brightened, opening onto what seemed a major street. But silhouetted across its entrance stood a line of wide, large and serious looking men. I pulled out my darter. They were big enough and as they leaped forward, they'd soon be close enough to be hard to miss, even for me.

A blast of hot air shot down and swirled about me. Overhead, the whining of jets. I leaped against the wall as a small flier squeezed in next to me. Its door swung up, barely missing me pressed against the wall. The seat was empty. I took that as an invitation and dived in. Worst case, there'd only be one Legionnaire to deal with, not a dozen. I'd barely gotten my trailing foot inside when the flier shot up, slamming the door down beside me. There were several flashes of blue light as I straightened myself in the seat and glanced at the pilot, a slim spaceer in uniform and a low raked cap.

He spared me just a quick glance and a brief smile before concentrating on piloting the flier up and through the maze of buildings. 'You've made some enemies, Wil.' he said.

The voice was familiar. Startled, I turned and stared. Another quick glance my way – the slim face with a bushy black mustache wasn't instantly familiar, but those icy grey eyes were. 'Nadine,' I gasped.

She laughed, 'You've pierced my disguise, with the ease of a lover's glance!'

'Neb...' I muttered again, incapable of a coherent thought. Luckily none was needed, as she slammed the flier forward through the mist, just high enough to keep it skimming over low rooftops and twisting down a series of narrow lanes with buildings looming in the mist on both sides.

'I'm touched that you remember my name. Spaceers usually have such short memories for the lovers they leave behind. And it's been ever so long...' she said giving me another quick glance while racing over a rare straight street, her eyes bright with sarcastic delight, her smile, under her mustache wide, but not quite cruel.

I'm sure there were many witty rejoinders to that line. "Not long enough" springs to mind, but only now. But in the moment, nothing bubbled to the surface. I settled for 'What are you doing here? I mean, here and now?'

She didn't answer until she'd made a couple of abrupt maneuvers, narrowly missing or flying over the low, ramshackle buildings on all sides. At the speed she was traveling, she was either an excellent pilot or was heavily relying on the collision avoidance system to get us through the maze. After a few moments of such flying, she pulled the flier up a little, content to skim over the low tenements and factories by several meters.

'What am I doing? I believe I'm saving you from being brutally beaten to death by the Legion of the New Order. You must tell me more about that, when we have a less hectic chance to talk...'

'Why?'

'Why what?' she shot back with a laugh.

I closed my eyes and tried to think clearly. I needed time...

'Why did you just save me from them? They were just going to save you the trouble... Dead is dead.'

'Because, Wil, I've traveled a very long way and paid a very steep price to catch up to you with one idea, to kill you slowly. I've no intention of letting a pack of thugs beat me to it. Not after the price I've paid for the pleasure.'

I just stared at her. She gave me another wide smile, her eyes sparkling with cold delight. 'What do you think of my disguise?'

'You must have...' I began, intending to say "taken the same Academy course as Leith D'Lay". But some intuitive jolt warned me not to say anything about him and what I'd learned about her or St Bleyth from Brother D'Lay. I couldn't say why or what use that knowledge would be, but I'd need any edge I could muster to get out of this with my life...

And then I recalled D'Lay's earnest advice to kill her if I ever was given the chance. I still had my little darter in my hand, held out of sight on my right side. She had both hands on the controls, so there seemed no barrier to using it on her. Sitting right next to me, she was within my effective range....

'I must have what?' she asked, jerking me out of my thoughts.

'You must have thought me blind, if you thought that mustache would fool me,' I improvised. 'Now can you take it off? It's creepy.'

'It fooled you at the Star and Dust, though you were rather brightly lit when I walked by you,' she replied with a laugh, 'And you'll just have to put up with it until we get to my lair.'

'You were at the Star and Dust?'

'Amazing what a cap, a badge and an arrogant stare will do for you. I walked by your table and tagged you. It was a good thing I did, since it enabled me to follow your recent escapades. I would've been so disappointed...'

I put a hand to the back of my neck.

'I just tagged your coat collar,' she laughed. 'I was planning on following you and having this fond reunion at your gig. My plan was to bring a poor drunken Captain Litang back to his ship in your gig, as a personal favor. Once aboard, I'd take care of my business with Min and, if events permitted, take you off again for our long conversation.'

'How long have you been on Despar?' I asked, curious to know if she ever had a chance at Min.

'I only arrived 51 hours ago, aboard the Rusa Rock. I'm signed on as cook.'

'As a cook?'

She spared me a quick glance and a bright smile. 'One of my many talents. I'm a wizard with a food synth. In my trade, being a good chef will often get you into places that might otherwise be very hard to penetrate. I've been busy making arrangements, but when dear ol'Cap'n Flory mentioned that he was dining with Captain Litang, who had destroyed Despar's pet berserker, I realized I'd been handed my chance on a gold platter. It was only the second lucky break I've had since I met you. Signing on as cook on the Rusa Rock was the first. Anyway, I slipped downside and invited myself to the Star and Dust to meet the hero of the day amongst the anti-Despar faction.'

'And knowing that I destroyed a berserker bare handed, you still wanted to try to kill me? Wouldn't it have been safer to let the Legion do it?'

She laughed, 'I haven't a choice, Wil. You're mine to kill.'

My darter was still hidden in my right hand. She still had both hands on the flier's controls, so I had options, if I wanted to live. But Neb blast if I could see any way to get myself clear. If I stunned her, I'd have to rely on the flier's autopilot to keep us from crashing while I – somehow – replaced her in the pilot's seat. In the small cockpit, that would be very awkward and all the time the flier would be flying unattended. Moreover, I couldn't be certain she'd put the Legion far enough behind us that I'd even have the time. And then what? My little sissy had only non-lethal darts so killing her would involve dumping her from a sufficient height and then running to the Patrol HQ with my tale of being pursued by the Legion, saved by an assassin, and killing the assassin... Not a tale I relished telling to the Patrol, since I likely couldn't prove a thing against her and if I admitted killing her, well, Despar did, I believe, have laws against such a thing, which, given my current popularity here, I might as well let the Legion have their way with me and save everyone a lot of bother. Moreover, I was far from sure the Patrol would treat me any differently. Taking the law into one's own hands is frowned on, and doing it habitually will get you in deep trouble. So, as a known gun runner, I doubted the Patrol would treat me kindly. Just stunning her, dropping her off on some roof top, might solved the immediate problem, but nothing in the long run...

I glanced at her. She was smiling slightly under that creepy mustache. She seemed to be concentrating on her piloting since we were flying low again – I could see the hazy forms of walls, smokestacks and buildings shooting by us within an arm's span at times, still I had the feeling she was watching me out of the corner of her eye.

'Afraid of heights?' I asked, just to give me a few more seconds to decide.

'Just making sure the Neb-blasted Legion can't follow us,' she replied carelessly, adding with a sarcastic smile, 'I've had to change my plans because of them. They'll be waiting around your gig, so I think it's time for our long conversation. We had so little time to... talk, last time.'

Even with those chilling words, I realized I couldn't kill her. I wasn't like her and didn't want to be like her. I still wasn't enough of a drifteer to kill in cold blood. Yet. I'd just have to escape, but this wasn't the time.

'Well, it's not like I invited you to follow me. I seem to recall advising you to run instead. To start a new life.'

'I remember. Your concern was quite touching.'

'Speaking of concern, I've occasionally wondered how your husband fared? I trust he's recovered from his wounds.'

She laughed lightly. 'Poor Max. Did you know he was born and bred in New Prusza? The poor sod. So you can imagine the great embarrassment he had to endure after first challenging the lover of his wayward wife and then losing the honor duel. And losing it against a Unity Standard wimp of a spaceer. The horror! The shame! The poor, arrogant fool could barely find a reason to carry on. We didn't part on friendly terms,' she added brightly.

'Did they get his hand reattached?'

'I didn't linger long enough to know if they succeeded or not. He had a large cast over it when we parted. If not, he'll have to take off his shoes to count to six,' she laughed, adding with a shake of her head, 'Local talent, Wil. Local talent. That says it all,' and the smile faded.

'I was once considered very good, myself. Once. But now, I'm hardly better than that poor idiot Max. I've no future at all – once I kill you and Min I might as well walk out of an air lock, my future's that grim. And it all began when I first crossed orbits with you.' She gave me the icy glance I remembered so well. 'We've got a lot to discuss, you and I.'

'You can still start a new and better life, if you care to. The Nebula is wide.'

'No I can't. I'm bound by my code of ethics...'

My trigger finger twitched, but I forced myself to let it pass...

'Well, I've seen what that leads to...' I replied, too soft for her to hear.

We didn't say anything more for several minutes, while she tossed the flier this way and that to avoid great looming walls. We were low again. Then she abruptly dropped the flier down into the deep shadows of a small space between two hulking buildings.

'My Despar headquarters,' she said, once more bright, adding with a leer, 'My lair.'

'Rather basic,' I noted, looking at the sheer walls on all sides.

'Warehouses. Despar Navy warehouses,' she laughed. 'They've been sealed and secured by the Patrol, so they're essentially abandoned, but secure from casual visitors.'

'The Patrol doesn't mind you using them?'

'They don't seem to. I go in and out as I please. I really am good at arranging these sorts of things,' she laughed, opening the flier's hatches and slipping out. I stepped out on my side into the damp shadowed space. She was already around the back of the flier, holding her darter pointed at me.

'I'll take your darter, Wil, since you seem to have no use for it. And I'll have your com link too.'

I handed over my darter and as I slowly undid the com link I considered my options. I braced myself for the lunge.

'Don't even think about it. I'll stun you and drag you in by your feet. There are lots of stairs to climb so you'd have one Neb-blasted headache when you'd come too,' She pocketing my darter while keeping hers aimed at my chest.

I handed over my com link. The one lesson D'Lay had taught me that I have taken to heart is; don't fight losing battles.

'Really, Wil. I gave you a chance,' she said, stepping back and looking at me. 'Why didn't you take it?"

'Did you, Nadine? I doubt you're that big a fool.'

She smiled coldly, watching me. 'Perhaps, perhaps not. Still, you could've tried.'

I shook my head, 'You'd just saved my life. I could hardly turn around and kill you, could I? I have my code of ethics too. The real question is why you gave me even the slightest chance?'

She shrugged. 'Because I know your type – Unity Standard. I knew you'd be far too civilized to shoot me, though your life actually depended on it. A minor gamble. A game. And you lost. For as long as you cling to life, you'll always wonder if you could've avoided the pain of the death I've in mind for you, if you had the courage to try.'

'No good deed goes unpunished.'

'Indeed. And punished you will be,' she said with icy glee – her eyes now eager, cold, grey and bright. 'Let's get out of this rain,' she added, indicating a small door, dwarfed by a vast wall.

She walked backwards ahead of me, did something at the door with her free hand, and we entered without setting off any alarms. With a warning to do exactly what she directed or be darted, we walked, she several meters behind, carefully through the vast warehouse filled to the dim roof with rows and rows of racks filled with sealed pallets. I didn't think any attempt to escape would stretch more than a meter before she shot me, so I walked as directed. A stack of offices rose to the ceiling in the center of the warehouse and she directed me up the open staircase that ran up the side of this stack to the top story, and into a small set of offices just under the roof.

'My digs,' she said with a sweep of her hand as we entered an office with windows overlooking the dim lit expanse of naval supplies.

02

She closed the door behind us, settled on the edge of the long desk/control panel below the window and slipped her darter into a holster under her jacket. She carefully peeled off the mustache.

'Thank you. A vast improvement.' Charm, Litang, charm, I told myself.

She smiled, but said, 'Unfortunately, Wil, I'm pressed for time, at least on this end of the operation, so this is how it's going to lift. I need to get to Min, and that means getting aboard the ship. You're my ticket for that...'

I quickly debated whether or not to tell her she'd missed Min, but decided that she'd likely not believe me, and if she did, well, I was then no use to her. Better to play along, for now.

'How do you figure that will lift?'

'Well, you could just invite me aboard for a few drinks...'

'Sure. Why not. You just saved my life, I certainly owe you a drink or two,' I replied, being as agreeable as I could, just to make her uneasy.

She gave me a look and said, 'I think it'd be better if you were unconscious when we arrive. So here's how it'll lift. I'll have just saved you from being beaten to death by a gang of toughs, which, curiously enough is the truth,' and adding with a laugh. 'Only you'll be in very bad shape, more dead than alive. You'll be unconscious so I'll have to bring you up to the ship myself. Arriving more dead than alive should bring your Min running, and well, that should complete my assignment. Depending on how things play out, I'm hoping to continue this conversation by bringing you back as a hostage to keep your shipmates from alerting the Patrol. This time the plan's nice and simple.'

'Then why didn't you just leave the legionnaires to work me over and just save me in the nick of time? It'd be the truth and would pass the AI lie detector on the vid call to the ship.'

'Ah, Wil, you don't know how long I've looked forward to our time together. I wasn't about to be denied the pleasure of making you pay for what you've done to me. If I had missed you and they had gotten to you first, I'd have been very, very disappointed. By the way, what did you do to get them so riled up? '

'I didn't do anything. The Legion is convinced that the berserker they hired would've defeated the whole Patrol. It captured us but we managed to disable it and destroy it, so now they're blaming us for their entire defeat. Totally ridiculous, the Patrol could've taken on the berserker.'

'I'm impressed. My Wil, defeating Despar all by himself...'

'I didn't do a Neb blasted thing. My tech hacked the damn thing long enough for your St Bleyth mercenaries to hack its cyber brain into small pieces.'

'And yet, they blame you.'

'Someone has to take the blame for the mistakes they made. Is there any logic in the drifts? Does anyone take responsibility for their actions?'

'You're my responsibility, my dear Wil. And I'm going to live up to it. Eventually,' she added with an icy leer.

'So why are you angry with me? Neb, you'd be in Felon's Rift right now if I had chosen to protest your attempt on my life after the duel.'

'I could've killed you and likely gotten away. Lontria has many bolt-holes...'

'Why didn't you?'

She shrugged. 'You're not my prime target. Min is. Your value – and you only need to be a corpse to be of value – is that I can use you to reach Min. But I couldn't do that from a bolt-hole. I hoped for another chance before you sailed.'

'Well, I can hardly be blamed for not giving you that chance. Nor did I report the incident to the Guard or the Patrol. Really, Naylea, I don't see that you can blame me for anything at all.'

'Naylea? Why did you call me that?'

I looked at her. 'It's your real name, isn't it? Naylea Cin, it's a pretty name.'

'How do you know that?' she asked, momentarily at a loss, then, 'D'Lay of course.'

'Aye, an old friend from your school days. My, you've made enemies, my dear,' I said. I didn't know where I was going with this or why, but it would give her something to wonder about. 'I'm told that you had such promise. Is this the promise, Naylea?'

She sat staring at me for a moment, and then taking a pair of gloves out of her jacket pocket said, 'I did have promise. More than promise, I was the best at what I did. I was skillful enough to successfully operate in the Unity for years. That level of skill is very rare. But thanks to you, I've had to leave my field of expertise and follow you into the drifts.'

With her gloves on, she reached down and picked up a leather covered rod from a gear bag next to the desk, and standing up, continued quietly. 'Getting to La Trina in a sleeper-pod was expensive, but painless. Tourists, however, don't visit Zilantre, nor do company ships and Unity tramps take on casual passengers or crews. There are a few scheduled emigrant liners that serve Zilantre, but that would have entailed waiting several months. So if I wanted to catch up to you, I had to sign on as crew member on a drifteer trader. Being in a hurry, I wasn't fussy, and ended up as pursuer, cook, and general hand on a dirty little tramp manned by a dirty little crew of lecherous half-wits. I made it very clear early on that I wasn't interested in sharing my dirty little cabin with any of them, and had to remind them to switch off their lecherous ideas most a daily basis, often with more than a look or a word.... 123 days of going about my duties with a darter in my pocket – always careful to keep my back to a bulkhead when I was out of my dirty little cabin...'

She stepped closer and without warning, lashed out with the rod in her hand – I managed to take the blow on my arm where the armored jacket and shirt that I now always wear downside these days, somewhat dulled the pain of the blow. Still, I yelped, ever anxious to appease an angry, sadistic assassin, while falling back out of range, for the moment.

'I'm sorry,' I said, and would have added more, but she cut me off.

'Oh, quit your crying, I've not even begun. It'll sting a lot sharper when I get those armored clothes off of you,' she snapped, but paused, staring grimly off into space,

'When I arrived on Zilantre I found that D'Lay had borrowed you and your ship, so I had to wait to find out where I had to go next. Shunned by the members of the Order – who knew of my failures – I waited until word of D'Lay's disaster and your arrival in Despar orbit reached us. Finding a berth to Despar wasn't easy. Not a lot of ships were sailing there. Eventually, I had a bit of luck when dear old Captain Flory took a fancy to me – or rather to my cooking – and offered the cook's berth aboard his small trader, the Rusa Rock, so I made it here unmolested...

'I'm used to being disliked, hated. But even so, those 123 days of being trapped with those beady little men and shunned on Zilantre...' She stopped, and lunging, slashed, striking my already sore shoulder and sending a bolt of pain up my arm as I stumbled away from her. I yelped for real.

'What got me through all those endless dark days and months,' she continued quietly – she was toying with me, 'was dreaming of the day when I'd have you in my power – when I'd have you exactly where you are right now. And what I'd do to you when I did. How I'd make you pay for destroying my career, my reputation, and sometimes even my self-esteem... Do you know what my future holds because of you?'

I shook my head no.

'Now, thanks to you, well this is the future I'm likely facing,' she said, and then with a deeper voice continued, play acting the part of a vid thug, 'You were sent to collect 20 credits, (striking me,) Willy. But you collected 30 (slash) but you only turned over 20. (slash) Are you going into business yourself, Willy?' (slash, slash) I was trying, and mostly failing to dodge or deflect the blows.

'Well, you get the idea, I'll be lucky to be hired out as an enforcer for some drifter gang all because you didn't die when you should have.'

'You can hardly blame me for that,' I gasped, earning another glancing blow as I tried to slip out of the way, 'You missed...'

'And you defeated Max. That should have been a sure thing, but Max was a buffoon.'

'Buffoon or not, it was your own over-elaborate plan and your local talent. And don't forget, you failed as well because you couldn't resist being over-elaborate and tipping me off with your melodramatics before the duel,' I have no idea why I was going on like this, why I seemed intent on making her mad, or madder with me. I guess I didn't like being blamed for something that was hardly my fault.

'Now, if you would've run as I advised, you could be living a new life. But no, you set out to follow us to the drifts. Your code of ethics... I can hardly be blamed for every mistake you've made...'

She delivered a few more blows, the tip of her tongue on her lips, her eyes bright with pleasure. 'I seem to be able to blame whomever I want. All because you lived when you should have died.'

I bit back, because you missed. And failed, two more times, and said instead, 'Sorry.'

'You will be. You'll pay...'

'Why? It's your superiors who have condemned you. But I suppose they can't be touched. Still, that's no reason to kill me. I know nothing about your client, nor does Min. And if we were really important, why didn't the Order act here on Despar, if not on Zilantre? I know they have people available. Instead, you had to endure those dirty little men because they'd not lift a finger to help you. I can see why you're angry – but not at me.'

'Aye, I'm being punished for my failures, no doubt about that. And yes, you don't count, but you had a share in my fall and you can be touched...' she paused to illustrate that point again. 'Min, on the other hand, still counts, and I can use what's left of you to get to her. Otherwise, you're worthless, a loose end to be tied up. Failure must not only be punished, but covered up as well. You aren't targeted by an assassin of St Bleyth and live to tell about it. You're on the company's account, not the client's.'

'I won't say a word about it. Promise,' I replied, scurrying around the small office trying to keep a safe distance from her.

'Damnit, Litang, are you going to stand and fight, or just whimper and cower like some Unity Standard puppy? Are you afraid of this little riding crop? You were brave enough when you faced Max who was out to kill you with a blade...'

'I'm more afraid of you, Naylea. I had a chance with Max. I don't with you,' I replied. Which was true enough. I had no expertise in martial arts beyond twin blade fencing, and if all those dirty small men couldn't get the best of her in four months, I wasn't likely to either. My only chance was to snatch my darter out of her jacket pocket, and I'm sure she knew that. I could see the anger in her eyes, but there was more than a bit of play acting in them as well. She was a cruel, grey-eyed cat, and I, the little ship mouse she was playing with, batting me around with her paws, waiting for me to do something that she could pounce on.

'Besides, on Lontria I was fighting for your honor against your cruel lout of a husband. I was motivated. But against you, my dear...' I left it hanging, with a hopefully winning smile.

She was watching me intently now, searching for the lie. Perhaps she didn't find it, because she smiled, 'Oh, I'll make allowances for you, Wil. It'll make what I must do so deliciously bittersweet.' She illustrated that point with another lunge and stinging blow. 'I felt a little of that pain too,' she said with a wicked sigh. And struck me again.

Even with a grandmother from the drifts, I'm a pretty Unity Standard fellow. Even as a spaceer, I shared the Unity's population's broad characteristic, which is to say, I was accustomed to security, at least downside, and predisposed to be easygoing, friendly, accommodating, and tolerant. There seemed some sort of strange fondness between Cin and me. I saw it – occasionally – in her eyes. It wasn't friendship, but whatever it was, at whatever level it existed, and for that matter, why it existed at all – it prevented me from taking Cin's threats completely at her word. She wasn't play acting with her blows, they were meant to hurt, but well, that was Cin, the sadist – yet even so, my Unity Standardness was inclined to let that ride. As for her threats, I had to take them seriously, but there seemed a certain vein of reluctance in them, which I might find a way of exploiting. All of which, I suppose, are just feeble excuses for cowering, yelping with the blows and sliding away from a slip of a woman armed with only a short, leather bound rod.

'Still, you should try,' she snapped, suddenly growing impatient.

'I don't fight battles I can't win,' I panted, and added with a Unity Standard smile, 'And I wouldn't want to hurt you, my dear.'

She smiled grimly. 'But I want to hurt you,' she said, and launched a furious attack, landing stinging blows on my exposed neck, and shielding hands circling around the room. Her eyes dared me to try the door... And when I didn't she lost patience and planted a boot in my midriff, sending me flying into the corner, a heap of pain, gasping for breath.

'I think your face needs to be mussed up a bit. This is actually going to hurt...'

I hadn't the breath to reply. I didn't even look at her. I waited. Sprawled out as I was, she'd have to lean over to hit my face, and if I could take a few blows, I hoped to be able to grab her and bring her down on top of me. And if I could reach her jacket pocket... I watched her feet approach and covered up my head...

She lunged and landed a blow to my groin which took what little breath I had acquired, curling me into a ball in pain. She aimed a blow for the side of my head but it missed and landed on my shoulder, I could hear the swish of the rod as it swung by my head.

And then, 'Damn!' and she stopped.

I was in too much pain to care.

'Blast and damn! We've company.' I heard her mutter. Her com link must have alerted her to some tell-tales being tripped somewhere. She turned and stepped over to the desk and console.

'The Patrol.' I managed to groan. 'I'll make you a deal.'

'Not the Patrol, your pals, the bloody Neb-damned Legion. They must have tagged you too,' she snarled, turning to glare at me.

'Or your flier,' I muttered, still gasping for breath, but unwilling to be blamed for one more Neb-blasted thing I didn't do. 'Doesn't matter, the Patrol will be here in minutes. There are alarms ringing in Patrol headquarters as we speak.'

'I'm afraid not. They haven't tripped the building's alarms. They tripped the alarms I installed when I took possession. The Patrol was rather careless in securing this facility. I had no problem getting around the system and making this my base and the Legion seems to have no problem nullifying their alarm system either. Which, I suppose, is not surprising since this was one of their warehouses and we are dealing with their special branch. We'll just have to deal with the Legion without the help of the Patrol.'

'Why?' I asked, finally able to look up at her. 'Trip the Patrol's alarm and let them deal with the Legion. I'll give you cover. You rescued me from the Legion. They know me and I'll give them some sort of story about being chased here. It's close enough to the truth,' I said hopefully. 'I'll keep you clear of the Patrol – I owe you that much.'

'You owe me so much more, Litang. But how would we explain how we got in here? They've suppressed the Patrol alarms in any case. I can deal with the Legion. The question is what am I to do with you?' she said as she drew her darter and aimed it at my head, biting her lower lip. 'Am I to be denied my pleasure?' she quietly asked herself. And closed her eyes to find the answer.

'I suggest we just postpone it,' I ventured softly. 'How far can you lug a corpse?'

03

She opened her cold grey eyes and stared at her rather battered, disheveled, and apprehensive victim. 'A corpse would slow me down.' she said, and with a shrug, holstered her darter.

And getting down to business, continued, 'They'll work their way through the warehouse... But carefully. There are too many places for ambush to be anything but careful. And as likely as not one of them will trip a sensor they haven't suppressed. We can't be around for that, but we've a few minutes. First, I need to find their tag,' she muttered, 'Stand up, I need to feel your coat...'

I gasped as I stood, despite the armored clothing, darts of pain shot through my poor body. She sniffed her disdain and ran her hand along the back of my jacket. 'The dirty little men put up a better fight than you. Ah, that's mine... And here's theirs,' she said, showing me two tiny burrs resting in the palm of her hand. 'Must have been one of the waiters...'

She looked about the room and settled on a desk chair. She drew a small knife from a pocket and sliced out a hunk of the back cushion with a few strokes, and set the tags in the fabric.

'Our decoy.' she said, and giving me a hard, cold look. 'It's either me or them, Litang. I can recover your corpse, if you choose them, so it makes no difference to me.'

'Oh, it's you, my dear. The two of us against the Legion. Besides, I need you to get me out of this alive,' I added, painfully stretching my body to get it to move against the pain. 'You're the expert in getting in and out of places, or so I've been told.'

She smiled, briefly, 'Fair enough. I want you out of this place as well. Let's get moving. Not a sound and do exactly as I do. I'll have to leave you to the Legion if you make a mistake.'

'That's always been your rule, hasn't it?' I whispered back, as we crouched low to avoid being seen through the windows overlooking the stack.

She gave me a sharp cutting smile. 'Yes,' she hissed, and slowly opened the door. 'Follow me and do exactly as I do.'

We scuttled out the door and she pointed to rungs set in the wall next to us. 'Up.'

I climbed up into the darkness under the roof to find a platform with another set of rungs going up to a second, enclosed platform with a ladder going up into shadows to reach an access point on the roof.

She took the hunk of fabric and stuffing from the seat cushion she was holding and sent it sailing across the tops of the racks away from door where the Legionnaires were organizing their search. It made hardly a sound as it dropped to the floor and out of sight. She pointed to the roof access ladder.

'I'll go first. Stay here while I scout the roof.'

I graciously backed out of the way to let her climb ahead. I followed her up the rungs slowly, biting back grunts of pain when I had to use my sore shoulder and bruised arms to climb the ladder in the black shadows between the heavy rafters. It took her only seconds to open the door a crack and let a shaft of light in. She spent a minute, slowly widening it, crouched low. Satisfied that she could exit without notice, she whispered. 'Stay,' and slipped out and closed the door.

Left alone, I felt a rising knot of fear twisting in my gut and tried stomping it down with a few deep breaths and a dose of spaceer fatalism – what was written was written. The Litang on this page would never know the next page and if I was dead on the next page, so be it – I was alive on this page.

I then turned my attention to the question of what could I do, having been left casually unattended? There was likely some sort of an alarm or com unit I could activate to contact the Patrol in the security office we'd just vacated. If I acted promptly, I might be able to set off an alarm and hide amongst the racks until the Patrol arrived. But I only toyed with that idea. It was the flip side of spaceer fatalism. I didn't know how long Cin would be away, and if I failed to raise the alarm I'd have both Cin and the Legion after me, both content to deal with a corpse. I decided to trust Cin to get me clear of the Legion and my karma to get me clear of her when the time came. As I mentioned, I feared Cin a whole lot less than the Legion. For no good reason at all.

So I spent the time (long enough to have done just about anything I wanted to with the office security controls as it turned out) considering all the decisions that had me clinging to rungs in the rafters of a Despar warehouse with a pack of killers looking for me below and my assassin above. Going to lunch alone today topped the list. I deserved this, but I had time to trace all the decisions back to my youthful ambition to see more of the Nebula than dear ol'Faelrain. I'd likely be a full trade inspector now if I'd stayed. Regular, Unity Standard hours, cushy job flying rocket boats. Alas, that's not how it was written.

'We've a chance,' she whispered, startling me as she slipping through the narrow crack of the door above me. 'There are Legion fliers about, but they've not occupied the roof yet. We must move quickly. Follow me and don't hesitate. If you hear a flier, freeze. The fog is still heavy enough that they might mistake you for a vent or something. Are you with me, Litang?'

'Aye.'

'Right. Across this section, it's a jump down to a lower section. That takes us to the rail tracks. We'll jump to the top of one of the bulk wagons and then down the far side. After that we run alongside of the wagons. Be sure to dodge under them if you hear a flier. We're close to the bay and the tracks lead to the spaceport. With any luck, the fog will hold and we'll get clear away on foot. Once we make port we'll be safe enough. Got it?'

'Right, just follow you.'

She smiled. 'Right. And don't count on the Patrol. I won't tolerate that. We'll wait for the next flier to go over, and make our break.'

We didn't wait long, and as soon as the hissing whine of its hover jets passed into silence, we were off running.

Half blinded as I emerged into the milky brightness that clung to everything, I followed Cin as she dashed from environ-unit to environ-unit, keeping an eye and ear to the bright, white and low sky.

She raced ahead and, reaching the edge of the roof, disappeared over the side. I followed, but skidded to a stop. The roof of the next section was six or seven meters lower. She had landed in a crouch and was looking up at me. She gestured to jump. But I hesitated. Heights are tricky, each planet has its own gravity, so visual clues are misleading, easy jumps on some moons and planets will break your legs on others. I turned and lowered myself over the side – my bruised shoulder sending darts of pain down my arm before dropping and rolling, without twisting anything else. She gave a disgusted shake of her head, and took off. I found my feet and took off after her.

This section was narrow and we reached the edge in seconds. Below stretched several long lines of wide and large bulk grain wagons, disappearing into the fog in either direction. Choosing her landing spot, she stepped back and took a running leap, clearing the three to four-meter gap between the building and first line of freight wagons landing with meter a to spare, landing lightly on the wagon' s sloping roof. She spun and had her darter out in an instant, searching the dock for our pursuers. Finding none, she waved me on.

I took several deep breaths as I retreated to make my run and focusing on the certain death behind me I took off. I came to the edge in mid-stride – indecision on how to manage the leap, and made a hash if it, hitting the wagon, half on, half off the side, winding me, but managing to hold on to the rim on the top edge of the wagon. Cin, thank Neb, grabbed my jacket and held on while I found a hand hold and tried to grab some air to replace what the impact had knocked out of me.

'You must want to kill me very badly,' I gasped as I crawled beside her on the top of the bulk carrier.

She smiled, 'Oh, I do. Now let's go. Over the far side and keep up with me, or I'll...' she added with a glance at her darter. She swung around and scuttled over to the end of the wagon where rungs lead down to a small platform between the wagons.

I heaved myself up and after her, still drawing in lungfuls of air. I landed at her side and looked to the sky to find the suns and our direction, but she was already off running. It looked to be the right direction, so I followed.

So far, so good, but the shaft of bright, and foolish optimism that shot through me as I started running for Port Sanjoor made me uneasy – it was probably unwarranted. Half a dozen long viaducts link Port Sanjoor to the mainland. They're built over the shallow bay with its channels, low lying islands and reefs. Despar is one of the major agricultural planets for this section of the drifts and the viaducts carried the rail wagons with its agricultural harvest to the various loading bays for lighters scattered about the port's islands. It took less than a minute to cross the bay in a flier, but on foot, it had to be perhaps ten kilometers. I certainly hoped we'd not have to walk the wide rails the big wagons rolled on... Still, it'd be a two-hour journey, at least. Likely more. It'd be dark, or nearly so by the time we got to the islands if the viaducts were passable on foot, assuming the Legion didn't find us and if I didn't collapse from a heart attack. And I'd have little chance of shaking Cin before reaching the space port.

But... But the Patrol was about somewhere, and the Legion under some sort of observation, so that it was possible that an alarm somewhere had been tripped.

We stuck to the line of grain wagons, running along the siding littered with debris and rubble. The whining jets of a flier drove us underneath a wagon twice, but they stayed far off – searching behind us. We started out as soon as they faded into the white mists.

I was hot, damp and gasping for breath. I didn't know how much longer I could keep even the easy trot we had settled into. And then, the line of grain wagons came to an end, and we were in the open, the mist brightening around us and I could smell the sea.

Cin was opening her lead over me, easily jogging along, while I huffed and puffed. She danced a bit to glance back to check the sky behind us, saw me puffing to keep up and smiled, waiting for me to catch up. 'Really, Wil, you've been downside here far longer than I.'

I saved my breath. I needed it for more important things than banter. I staggered on.

Soon we were out over the bay running along the edge of a wide viaduct. Below us, under the viaducts and dim in the fog, I could see a series of a low islands of sand, rocks, tall grasses, and shallow pools. Shanties stood scattered about on tall stilts – brightly painted small boats were drawn up along the water's edge. Kids played about the beach and boats. The lingering aroma of their evening meal wafted about us. The further out into the bay we got, the thinner the fog became, the further we could see. And be seen.

We began to stir up the sea birds perched on the low guard rail on either side of the viaduct sending them spiraling up into the air. They wheeled overhead scolding us before settling again behind us. At times there was just water below us, moving in a lazy, oily swell. And then another small island with shanties, boats and children.

Gradually, the further out into the bay we got, the wide viaduct began to split off into separate viaducts leading to different parts of the space port, still far ahead in the mist.

'Hold up,' I gasped with my last breath when I could no longer catch one anymore. I staggered over to a large control box on an extended platform and collapsed beside it, a damp, heaving sack of aches and pains. I'm not sure she heard my protest, but must have noted the lack of my foot falls, for she went on for ten meters before pulling up and turning around. Hands on hips she glared at me, but she was also breathing hard, a little, anyway, and slowly walked back.

'Come on. Do you want to die?' she demanded looking down at me.

'Have I... gasp...a choice now?'

She laughed, 'Allow me to rephrase that, do you want to let the Legion kill you after all this?'

'We can't outrun...fliers...They'll either figure out...what we've done...or not. Running won't...make much...of a difference.'

'Once aboard your gig or a bumboat, they can't touch us. The sooner we get there and slip aboard, the sooner we'll be safe from them. We're not even half way there yet. Not by a long shot.'

'Five minutes to catch my breath,'

She settled down next to me and glanced at her com link to check the time.

I glanced at where mine used to be. 'Why not call a flier?'

She shook her head. 'The Legion likely has the flier companies in their pocket. They held the power in Despar and still do, unofficially. That was a legit flier that picked you up. I suspect the same thing would happen again. We're better off walking or swimming.'

'How about my ship? I might be able to have a boat in fifteen minutes.' (If the crew was back from their day on the beach, that is. Min took the Ghost with her, so we were back down to two boats.)

She smiled and shook her head. 'No, Wil. I'll bring my poor battered pal, Captain Litang up in in his gig or a hired bumboat should the gig be too well guarded.'

We sat together comfortably. I glanced at her sitting beside me and wondered again about that bond between us, which I couldn't begin to describe. It wasn't some romantic notion. I'd seen enough of the cold cruelty in her eyes, I'd felt her lashes and had seen her pleasure in my pain, to know that wasn't going to happen. I was just her grey ship-mouse to toy with for a while. But I also knew that I could trust her to get us out of this, if it was possible. She was having fun – this was what she was best at, and getting me safely out of the clutches of the Legion and to the ship where she believed she could reach Min was like her old school days; a challenge she still savored.

As my breaths came easier I said, 'I wonder where that goes,' indicating a railed opening in the extended platform with a nod of my head.

Naylea, inpatient, heaved herself to her feet and went over to investigate, and climbed down into the opening, sending up a rush of seabirds, a complaining chorus of sharp calls up from below.

She stuck her head up, 'Come on, my dear, time to move. There's a service road below. We'll be much less exposed.'

I wasn't ready. I doubt she gave me the promised five minutes. But the prospect of being less exposed, especially as the mist was rapidly lifting as the evening wore one – I could see the distant outlines of Port Sanjoor against the low sun – was enough motivation to haul myself to my feet, and follow her down the steep, steel staircase.

The service road proved to be a single lane of metal grid work suspended below the concrete rail bed. At this point, it was only five meters above the oily, languid waves of the bay and covered with the acid smelling droppings of the sea birds that sailed around us, their siesta disturbed by our passage. Cin set out at a brisk walk that seemed sustainable. There were still small sandy islands scattered about, but they were just grass covered low mounds in the wide oily bay. The smell of the sea, and the sea-things rotting on the little islands of rocks piled around the supports for the viaduct came in whiffs and puffs, offering little relief from the constant tropical heat of Sanjoor. Ahead I could see the viaduct rising over a deep channel passage before falling again. I hoped that wasn't the midway point, for it was still some distance ahead.

The seabirds swirled around us, complaining in squawks and cries.

'I'm sorry about all that's happened to you Naylea,' I said, more a thought out loud than an attempt at conversation. 'By following me.'

She stopped and gave me a questioning look that quickly turned to anger, and a smarting slap.

'You're a fool if you think you can soften me, Litang. It angers me that you'd even think to try.' And increased the pace.

'I wasn't,' I dumbly protested (A mild lie.), as I tasted blood. 'I was merely thinking out loud. I'm sorry. You're trying to save my life. I can't help it if I feel a little grateful... You know how Unity Standard I am.'

'You'll feel a whole lot less grateful soon enough...' but without a great deal of venom.

'Whatever is written, Naylea. And whatever is written in the future doesn't hurt me now.'

She just hurried on, and I stepped up my pace to keep up. We walked in silence after that, Cin likely calculating her next moves while I should have been, but wasn't. Too many unknowns. Too Unity Standard to expect the worst. And well, we did have a long bridge to cross before anything would need be done. I spent my time listening for the whine of flier engines and trying to figure out just how I got here.

In the end, we didn't hear them until one was nearly on us.

We'd been walking and jogging for the better part of an hour and were crossing over the high ship channel, some thirty meters over the bay below. The sky was deepening into night as the major sun slipped into the sea beyond the godowns and rocket ship spires of Port Sanjoor. It didn't exactly get chilly, but the sea air cooled down to tepid. We had to be more than half way across and I tried to keep my optimism in check while beginning to think of what I needed to do to escape from her. I felt a low, rumbling vibration in the viaduct and turned to see an engine and line of wagons slowly approaching, with a cloud of seabirds in its wake. As the train neared, the rumble turned into a squealing, grinding roar, sending the white seabirds into the pale blue air – their chorus of squawking complaints drowned by the thunder of the wagons rolling over our heads.

It was this rumble and clatter of the train overhead that masked the jets of the approaching flier.

It was almost beside us – indeed, I believe it was heat from its hover jets that made me turn to discover it, a mere twenty meters away, flying nearly alongside the viaduct, obviously searching. We were fortunate to have just passed the first set of pilings after the ship channel, or they'd have likely shot us before we even knew they were on us.

Once they did spy us in the deepening gloom under the tracks, the passenger side door swung open and the passenger opened fire as the flier came abreast of us through the swirling flight of startled birds.

'Naylea!' I yelled, as the blue lightning of plasma darts erupted from the railing beside us and the bridgework just above and beyond us.

She didn't need my warning. She had the darter out, and was standing stock still, her arms straight out taking careful aim. Before the Legionnaire could deliver a second volley, she's sent two darts into him. His body jerked in a haze of blue, and slumped half out of the flier only his safety harness keeping him from falling into the bay. This allowed her a clear, but tight, shot at the pilot and she deliver two darts to the flier's pilot's shoulder and head, once more filling the cabin with blue flames as the flier drifted past us.

'To the next pilings,' she snapped and raced ahead, searching the sky for more fliers.

I was right behind her.

The now pilotless flier drifted ahead, striking the viaduct with a glancing blow that tipped it into the sea setting off an explosion of steam as its hot hover jets hit the water. We made the next set of pilings and watched as the water poured into the cabin shorting out its controls in a flash of flame. The air was filled with screaming birds and the hiss of the dying jets.

'More of them,' said she, pointing to the now distant viaducts across the water to our right with the lights and small dark shapes of fliers drifting along them. The pilot must have sounded an alert, because a second flier came roaring overhead and hovered over the downed one just ahead of us. We clung to the shadows of the rusting, brine coated, pillars and waited, Cin with her darter in hand following the movements of the flier.

Seeing no sign of life from the downed flier, the second darted up and off. A glance across the water showed the lights of perhaps half a dozen fliers rising from the more distant viaducts.

'Let's go,' she said, and took off. 'We may have to fight our way through, but the closer we're to the islands, the better our odds. If you're really lucky, Litang, the darter lightning might even attract the Port's Patrol units.'

We'd have to cover several more kilometers for that to happen, but I took off anyway, hoping to earn my luck. It was getting quite dark below the tracks, and in our black spaceer uniforms, we could run with a fair amount of confidence of not being seen. Twilight was our ally, at the moment.

'Keep a sharp lookout on your side. They know we're here now. They'll come in hot and fast, the next time.'

We raced past the slowly setting flier, without a glance, and past half a dozen more pilings before I reached out and touched her arm. She looked and I pointed ahead, panting, unable to speak. The viaduct was still curving my way and less than a kilometer ahead, I could see the lights of four or five fliers converging on the now empty viaduct tracks as the long train passed into the shadows of the space port islands. She glanced back and pointed. The lights of several more bobbed behind us, likely where the first one was downed.

'Looks like they're going to do it from the ground. Let's get as close we can get to this first line. If we keep moving forward, we'll not have to worry about those behind us. Keep low and in the shadows.'

We cautiously made our way to the next piling, but it was getting iffy now. The shadows were deep, but we could see along the roadway to the next set of pillars, and anyone hiding in them would likely see our approach as well, if we chose to continue.

'Keep watch, Wil,' Cin ordered, and began to search the structure for some sort of ambush position.

There didn't seem to be any, the rail bed above was supported by heavy concrete beams and the service road suspended from them. We'd be hard to take from the front since we could shelter behind the pilings, but there was no cover from behind. We'd also have to watch the access stairs leading up to the tracks at every piling. We had cover to hold off any attack from ahead, but with fliers, the access points and an unprotected rear to attack us from, the Legion would likely take us sooner or later. We had no way to escape them.

'I believe you can swim, Litang,' she said quietly, stepping over to the edge of the roadway and peering down into the now inky water that swashed about the rocks and sand dunes of a small island that huddled around the pilings.

I glanced at the dark silhouette of Port Sanjoor in the distance. 'Yes, but not that far, not in my condition, Drowning might seem my best option, though.'

'That's my brave captain,' she exclaimed. 'Strip down and slip over the side. Be quick about it. We might not have to make the islands. If we can slip around the blockade ahead, we might still be able to get back on the viaduct. The island below seems close enough for us to reach it without breaking our necks.'

It seemed the only plan, so I stripped to my underwear and quickly bundled up my clothes in my jacket, using my belt to sling the bundle over my back.

'I'm glad to see you're not shy, Wil, it will make it easier to swim,' she said as she stripped to a thin top and bottom, a slim form in the shadows, as she tied her clothes in a bundle as well.

'Why, Naylea, after our night together on Lontria, there can be no cause for shyness between us,' I replied. I hadn't spent all those free days on the beaches of dear old Belbania without shedding that taboo.

She laughed quietly and slipping her darter into an accessible pocket at the top of her bundle, she said, 'Over the top, Quickly, we can be seen. I'll follow.'

Looking down, I found a spot where a grassy dune seemed a short fall from the roadway, and, carefully, climbing over the railing, I quickly dropped two meters into the sand and sharply bladed grass.

'Should I catch you?' I asked, looking up.

'Just move aside,' she hissed, 'I'm ticklish and I might kick something...'

I moved aside. She was almost certainly kidding, but decided not to take any chances. My pain, her pleasure.

She landed lightly and surveyed our position. She noticed the white band above my right ankle. 'Is that my phantom glass knife?' she hissed.

''Ah, yes. I found a nice sheath for it, and in your memory, I wear it next to, well, my ankle, every time I go down to a drift world.'

She grinned and whispered sarcastically, 'That's sweet. I'm touched. Let's be going.'

Crouching low, we started carefully down the dune, to the wet sandy beach keeping in the shadows directly under the roadway. The sand was littered with sharp shells, so we had to walk carefully, and slowly wade into the oily bay, swishing idly about.

A minor moon/sun was rising over the glowing towers of Sanjoor, giving the bay a silver sheen. The specks of seabirds could be vaguely seen bobbing in the bay glistening with the lights of Sanjoor's towers. It would be hard to swim unobserved though them without calling attention to ourselves.

'We won't risk open water. We'll stay under the viaduct. We can cross the pilings by the islands. They'll soon be above us, so no talking or splashing. Remember, they'll not have to hit us to kill us in the water,' she whispered after surveying the bay, adding, 'The water will carry every near charge to us.'

'Lead on, I said, treading water, and struck out in slow, low effort strokes. With Despar's .5 gee gravity, I'd plenty of buoyancy, and was unlikely to drown anytime soon.

We advanced slowly in the darkness under the viaduct, hardly swimming at all, so as not to splash and to reduce the little "v" wave that might give us away as much as possible.

We advanced to the next pilings, there was no island around this set so we swam slowly around it. As we reached the next little island, I felt a tingle as the blue flash of light briefly outlined the shape of the island ahead of us. And then a second one. We scrambled out of the water on to the oily beach and scurried for the shelter of the pilings.

Two pilings ahead they were firing darts into the water apparently as a precaution against just what we were attempting. Cin watched until they repeated the performance. She gazed out over the bay – we could see the sea birds floating in the swell even clearer as the minor sun rose higher in the sky. We'd not escape that way if they were paying any attention at all. And with the downed flier and dead comrades, they weren't about to let us just swim under them. They had us trapped and were intent on finishing the job.

'We'll have to do it the hard way. Get dressed,' she sighed in my ear. 'Trousers and coat only, not the white shirt. Barefoot. Don't make a sound – they may be overhead any moment now. And they may have enhanced vision glasses, so make believe you're a shadow in between these pilings.'

Flush against the pilings, I pulled on my pants, tied my shirt around my waist, fastened my coat up to my chin, and pulled my cap low over my forehead. I tucked my light boots into my coat pockets.

When I was done, she handed me my darter and leaned close. 'Now we wait until they do something, either an advance from the party ahead, or a sweep in from the party behind. When they pass by, we'll climb up to the roadway and follow the guard rails forward like a shadow until we run into someone. If you can put the darter to their body, do so. The less flash, the better. Then we run. In the dark, we may have a chance. Follow my lead and don't say anything.'

'Right. Good luck.'

'I want you alive. Don't screw up.' she said, and slipped over to her side of the roadway and disappeared into the narrow space between the pilings. I pocketed my trusty sissy and squeezed into the space on my side of the piling.

The strange thing, I thought as I shivered in the hollow of the pilings, is that it seemed I always could tell what she was feeling, if not thinking. Oh, it changed fast enough, second to second sometimes, but she never bothered hiding her feelings, unlike Min, who always did. I could see the cold, ruthless cruelty in her eyes, her delight in inflicting pain and teasing pain to come, and her relish in contemplated her revenge on me. And then there were moments when we were almost like old friends. And tonight we were comrades in arms. Oh, I knew she'd kill me just as slowly as she promised, and if she regretted it even a little, it would likely add to her cold pleasure.

In the damp darkness below the viaduct, I saw – and shared – her wild delight in the challenge our situation presented. Even though I could only see the faint outline of her face in the glow of the distant towers, I'd catch her confidence and indeed, her barely contained glee. She was in her element. This was what she was best at, a grown up version of her school days' escapades and she was absolutely certain she'd win again. And if I did exactly as I was told, I'd win with her. Though the fate of those classmates who got caught served as a stark warning to do exactly as she directed. And I believe it was that same rush of joy which prompted her to hand my darter back to me with no conditions attached. It was simply another of her almost, but not quite, careless gambles.

It's never cold in Sanjoor, but it's always damp, and with the nearness of the water, it grew chilly. And as I waited, and waited alone, that wild abandon of Naylea evaporated away and left only the prospect of following a mercenary of St Bleyth into battle, and I'd seen where that leads. I must confess I grew very chilled. Chilled to the bone.

They continued to regularly electrocute fish, two spans down, for the next hour or so, it seemed, anyway. I'd not my com link so I don't know how long we waited...

The subtle click of space boots on the roadway above me brought me out of my dark reverie. I stopped breathing, but the clicks hurried on, and stopped overhead. From the sound, Legionnaires from the force ahead of us. I held my breath until they moved on, two dark shapes scurrying along each side of the roadway away from us. We waited. When they reached the far pilings, they must have signaled back, for four more dark shapes hurried overhead, not bothering to stay under cover, and out of sight beyond the pilings behind us. We waited.

And when no more followed, she moved. I rose and carefully stretched my sore body.

'Give me a boost,' she whispered.

I glanced up at the roadway and positioning myself, just under the edge of it as she stepped close. And with the same flash of instinct that had me countering Barlan's attack with an attack of my own, I put my hands on her waist, pulled her close and kissed her, let's say, for good luck. For a second or two longer than, well, what I might have expected to get away with, if I'd actually thought about it. And without a knee to the groin.

She pushed me away, the shadows too dark to read her eyes. She simply said again, 'Lift me up, Litang.'

I whispered, 'Good luck.' And moving my hands lower, braced myself and with her hands pushing on my shoulders, lifted her just high enough for her to grasp the railing and carefully pull herself up and over. I waited until she'd scouted the area, and then she dropped a hand down, and on the count of three, I jumped grabbed it with my sore left one and, and with an uff! she swung me high enough so that I could reach and grasp the edge of the roadway. I hung for a moment to get my strength, and then swung and grasped the railing with my other hand and hauled myself up. We caught our breaths for half a minute before she pointed to the other side and the direction we were to going. I nodded, and slipped across to the shadows along the railing, and started forward, running low and bare footed on the cold grating, keeping pace with her, my darter in hand.

As I approached the first set of pilings, I caught a piece of darkness move just ahead of me, and lunged forward at the shadow in the shadows. We collided, scrambling to react in the darkness and I discharged two shots point blank as instructed. The force of my lunge had carried us to the ground. I pushed myself up, and found Cin standing beside me. She'd gotten the other one. She grinned and nodded and off we went. One outpost down.

They must have been relying on their advanced party, for we reached the next set of pilings undetected. On the far side of the pilings they had their base camp – at least four lounging Legionnaires could be seen in the faint light of a dim lantern on the deck of the roadway.

She didn't give me a chance to think, she crouched and streaked off, a St Bleyth stealth. I'd no choice but to do the same. Well, I did have a choice, but, I wanted to be on the other side in the end, so I'd best follow her. The schoolmates of hers that held back paid for it, I'm certain.

They never saw her coming. She hit the first thug and drove him –or his body – into the next fellow, and darted him as he staggered. The fellow on my side started forward and I hit him in the back, my darter on his neck. I pulled the trigger back for both darts, and half stumbled into the next one. He was bringing his darter to bear on me, I knocked aside with my darter arm, and crashed into him. He was bigger than I and only staggered back.

Cin stepped over and dispatched him, and we sprinted forward in the inky shadows. There were only four and they hadn't fired a shot. We still had better part of three kilometers to go, but they were likely all behind us again. I would've liked to have stopped and put on my shoes, but she didn't, so we ran lightly onward.

They had to have been in constant radio contact, because we'd hardly gone half way to the islands before we could hear the jets of a flier far behind us. It grew louder as it approached. It landed briefly on the viaduct above the base we'd overrun, and then continued along the viaduct, roaring overhead as they swept low over rails, a second flier firing up in the distance as they discovered their outpost overrun. They settled ahead of us again, at the far end of the viaduct, half a kilometer before it entered the deep shadows of the godowns on the edge of the island. It would be their last outpost – once in the maze of Port Sanjoor and the Patrol marine patrols, their chances of stopping us before we reached the gig would likely be gone.

She grabbed my arm as we neared the last three sets of piling.

'We'll stand a better chance on top,' she whispered between breaths. 'There are lines of wagons on the rails, more cover.'

I nodded, saving my breath.

She led the way to the access stairs and cautiously climbed them. When she disappeared, I followed her up and found her crouching next to the large control box.

'Take the inside of this line and keep in the shadows, I'll take the far side of the far line. Stay close to the wagons, crawl under them, if you care to. And don't worry about showing fire, fireworks might just attract the Patrol,' she whispered, adding, 'I'll find you.'

I nodded. 'Right. Take care.'

She slipped into the night.

I was in no hurry – she was the professional, after all. I was just a very winded tramp ship captain. I put on my shoes and gave her a minute's head start before starting down the line of wagons. I decided that I'd rely on speed, and luck, rather than stealth and firepower, so I took off running again. The legion had to be stretched thin, with both the top and bottom to cover, and with wagons on three rail lines, I stood a chance of getting by. A slight one.

Lightning flared and flashed ahead. I skidded to a stop. Fire flared again, and I scurried under the wagon to the outside. Lightning flashed again beyond the wagon, and I took off running once more. I was in no mind to contribute to the ambiance of that darter fight tonight.

I didn't meet anyone on my side – if any had been on guard, the fire fight on the far side had drawn them off. I made it into the deep shadows of the island with its looming godowns and after half a kilometer or so, paused, too winded to go further. I slunk into the even deeper shadow of a control box and searched for a point where I could get off the lines and into the teeming lanes of Port Sanjoor as I tried to catch my breath. A few minutes passed.

'So you made it,' she said slipping into the shadows beside me.

I jumped and spun in surprise. I could just make out her smile in the darkness as I turned. I'd my darter in my hand and I had it against her rib-cage in a flash and fired the two dart charge. Her smile faded as she collapsed in my arms, her darter dropping beside her.

My streak of ruthlessness, my drifteer blood is, I'd like to believe, thin, but it's there and in that instant, just like when I was sparing with Barlan, and the kiss, I knew exactly what I had to do and how to do it. And I did it. I let her body slip to the ground and picked up her darter. My little sissy had only non-lethal darts, so I'd have to use hers. Captain D'Lay had been quite specific on what I needed to do, not only to save my life, but possibly Min's as well. I knelt and pressed the darter to her side to avoid a flash.

I closed my eyes. It didn't help, nor did the low curse. I'd realized, even as I laid her down, that I'd already found the limit of my ruthlessness.

No matter, I'd just leave her here for the New Order to find. They'd likely be along shortly – we – or Cin, anyway – had killed too many of them to let us go free, Patrol or no Patrol.

I searched her pocket and found my com link. Good enough. I stood and looked around, and down at her again. I still owed her something. I glanced about and reaching down, dragged her limp body to the far side of the control box. There was just enough room between it and the godown wall to shove her body into. I quickly stuffed her into the darkness, folding her legs up so she'd not be seen unless they flashed a light into the narrow space. She deserved a chance.

I peered around the box, and seeing no movement, prepared to go. I drew out her darter. It was against my principles to fire lethal darts, so it was useless to me. I went back and gently tossed it into her lap, half expecting her to snatch it and shoot me. But she didn't move, so I turned and slipped along the wall towards the far end of the godown. I came to a bridge over a narrow road – no doubt the outlet for the service lane under the viaduct. I climbed over a low railing, dropped down into that road, and followed into the shadows. Within minutes I was once more in the now familiar maze of Port Sanjoor. I spent an hour twisting my way through those dark and sinister, bright and loud, haunts in the company of spaceers on sprees, slowly making my way to the gig.

I had to assume the Legion knew where my gig lay and would be waiting in ambush. I debated signaling the Patrol. But, if the Legion could trace my com link, turning its communication band on might well lead them to me before the Patrol arrived. Plus, I rather suspected that the Legion had people everywhere in Sanjoor, including in any security resources they might need to locate and capture Wil Litang if he showed up on the communication grid again. And then, too, having just gotten clear of the snares of officialdom, I'd no wish to entangle myself again with an affair that likely left a score of ex-naval personnel dead. Plus, there was Naylea. I'd probably be mind-probed in the investigation – as a Unity citizen they'd have no qualms about doing that to me – and the results would likely lead to her capture and eventually to a felons' rift. I found I didn't want to do that to her. Besides, better the killer I knew – especially since she wasn't all that effective. To date, anyway. So, I decided to do cautious survey of the gig, and if it looked too well guarded, I'd wait for morning. If need be, I could have the long boat sent down to collect me. Still, I got myself into this mess, and if possible, I wanted to get myself out.

I circled the landing field to approach the gig from the opposite side from the viaducts. Then, cautiously, in stages, I approached it by attaching myself to bands of boisterous spaceers making their rather erratic way back to their boats after a long night of it. Fortunately, there were plenty of them about – and since all drunk spaceers are grey in the dark, I fit right in with them. Besides, I doubted that the Legionnaires could identify me on sight. I got to within thirty meters of the gig by choosing my mates, but had to stop and appear to relieve myself in the shadows of a boat when the last batch veered off course. As I stood in the dark shadow of a longboat, I studying the boats around the gig, glistening in the moon light. I didn't see any sign of the Legion, but I was certain they'd be lurking somewhere close at hand.

A robot crawler clanked by pulling a train of cargo-laden trailers behind it, steering towards my gig. I slipped out of the shadow, climbed on one of the trailers and clinging to its side, hitched a ride that took me within five meters of my gig. I keyed open the hatch with my com link, slipped off the trailer, and dashed, still crouching to the gig's – oh, so slowly – opening hatch. The widening patch of light shining on the tarmac from the gig's interior tipped off the Legion that I'd arrived. They sprang into action.

They'd been waiting in a large longboat parked close by and tumbled out as soon as the gig's hatch started opening. More dark shapes materialized out of the shadows of the surrounding boats as well, as I ducked under the rising hatch, and without waiting for the steps to descend, lunged in. Blue flashes peppered the tarmac and sparked off the gig as I rolled onto the gig's deck. I found my feet and slammed the switch to close the hatch. And started to draw my darter. As I did so, a hulking legionnaire reared up in front of me from beneath the gig, intent on grabbing me and hauling me out. There was a flash of blue outlining his form and he shuddered and fell into me. I staggered back, but managed to shoved him out onto the tarmac just in time to allow the gig's hatch to close – outlined in a sheen of blue light.

I'd made it. They couldn't take the gig. Not with hand weapons. I slumped for a second and then dove for the control compartment, aft. I swung around the control console and fired up the landing jets, lifting the gig a couple of meters up, balanced on its sheet of flame to drive the Legion back and scorch them if I could. My store of pity had been depleted some time ago. In the view screen, I watched them scurry under nearby boats, and then sickened of the whole affair, I shot up to the black marbled sky of the Nine Star Nebula for the Lost Star.

Only when I was in space, and have time to process that last attack, did I discover that I had the distinct, though fleeting impression, that the last legionnaire was shot in the back by a slim figure in the shadows, several boats away. I seemed to see her in that instant standing, braced, arms out aiming at me as the hatch shut. The final shot that hit the hatch could have been hers as well. Both shots were likely meant for me, or the second one would have been unnecessary. It is possible that she shot the legionnaire and the second shot was from someone else – there were lots of darts about, but I rather doubt it. She'd come too far and paid too high a price to let me slip away again. And yet I did, once more. I wonder how St Bleyth will treat her... Hopefully, I'll never know. I can live with that.

### Chapter 61 The Reefs of Despar

01

Despite all the alarms and adventures of the evening, it was only midway through the fifth watch, when I docked the gig on the Lost Star's starboard gangplank. Given my warning that the lunch might turn into something longer, neither Bar nor Say had grown alarmed. And though I was showing a great deal of wear, I managed to get to my quarters unseen and unquestioned, acting the part of tramp captain who'd been out with the tramp captains for ten hours. The picnic crew arrived an hour after me, and not in any better shape, on average.

I didn't get much sleep. I lay in my hammock reviewing and reliving the events of the day over and over. They were a not a very cheery gang, early in the second watch until I ordered everyone to get the ship ready to sail. They quit their grumbling and sprang, as well as their condition allowed, into action when they learned we could clear Despar.

I said nothing of my adventures, not false modesty, just embarrassment. I'd done exactly like I told everyone not to do, and almost paid with my life for it. Only Cin's determination to kill me slowly kept me alive through it all.

I called down to Patrol HQ and asked for an escort out of the reef, in view of the ship's unpopularity with elements of the Despar Navy. They claimed they did not have a ship available for escort. But they were willing to resupply our missile batteries from captured Despar naval stores at a discount. I took them up on the offer and by evening we had a weapons barge up alongside transferring all the anti-meteor (i.e. anti-ship) missiles and the smaller, anti-missile missiles our depleted magazines could hold. The following day I moved the ship to the fueling station and turned it over to Riv to oversee refueling. We still had the extra tanks in hold no.1 and I had those filled too, even though we'd be traveling hollow.

I didn't bother to advertise for cargo or visit the local shipbrokers. I wouldn't trust any available cargo from Despar, nor did I want to advertise where I was sailing. I'd kept my decision to sail to the Amdia system to myself, so everyone on board assumed we were sailing for either Zilantre to pick up a cargo or direct to Aticor.

I'd one other issue to deal with – staffing. We were now missing four of the crew that had sailed with us from Sanre-tay, my first mate and third pilot, environmental engineer, and fourth engineer. I'd no intention of filling any of those positions from the pool of spaceers available in Despar, or anywhere in the drifts, for that matter, so it meant sailing shorthanded. I'd have to stand my turn at the helm, which I didn't mind, it'd just be like old times. Amazing how fast a year ago can sink into old times... Illy would have to once again take the other vacant watch as a pilot until we reached our first Unity port of call. We'd get by, we weren't that stretched. I wasn't worried on that score. The question I had to settle was who'd fill Vynnia's role as first mate.

I found Illy in her small office. She had little work to do, since we were sailing hollow and had purchased little more than the missiles and fuel since I'd given the orders to sail.

'How anxious are you to return to your old duties as first mate?' I asked her as I settled into a chair across her desk.

She settled back and took me in. 'Can I gather from the phrasing of that question, that you've someone else in mind?'

'Only because I'm operating under the assumption that you'd not want the job, and would take it only if absolutely necessary, for only as long as it was absolutely necessary,' I replied carefully, watching her as well. We'd a nearly perfect understanding, but the position was hers to decline. She'd held it for decades and taught me the job, and was neither captain nor first mate now only by her choice. 'I'd be perfectly happy if I'm mistaken, or you've gotten bored as purser.'

'You're not, and I'm not. Who are you thinking of?' she asked. First mates are often, but not necessarily pilots.

I'm thinking of Molaye,' I said, and hurried on. 'I know she's young and has only been aboard and, indeed, a spaceer, for little more than three years, but I think she's a natural spaceer. And she has the drive and ambition to take on the role. Perhaps I'm more proud of her than I should be, my first protégé and all, but I think she can handle the job, with our help. We've a long voyage ahead of us to break her into the job... And well,' I paused.

'And well, what?' asked Illy with a small smile.

'And well, I've a few, ah, discussions with young Molaye, and let's say, she's not afraid to speak up. I realize I'm not that imposing, but still... I don't mind that she's strong willed, it'll make it easier to handle the position. She's someone I can work with and rely on. She was ever so cool when things got hot back there on the way to Boscone and despite being only twenty-five or six I think she can handle the job easily. A first mate at 25 is hardly unheard of.'

'The proud father.'

'Well, I'd hope you're a proud mother,' I replied. I'd been one of her protégé.

'You've done alright, Wil,' she allowed, with a smile. 'Give her the chance. As you say, she'll have time to get comfortable in the position. And well, Rafe will get restless sooner or later and Kie will be chief tech, so her promotion shouldn't be too awkward.'

'Kie's a solid mate. I'm certain he'll welcome her promotion. She'll be a captain some day in the not too distant future if she chooses, so he'd best get used to it now.'

02

We'd finished our fueling in a day and moved into the offing. We were to sail in the next watch.

I stood and looked around at the faces of my shipmates gathered around our dining saloon table. And saw, in my mind's eye, the missing faces as well.

'Shall we raise our globes to our old shipmates not at this table this evening, Our owner, Tallith, and our mates, Dyn, Vyn and Ten. Fair orbits in all their travels.'

'Hear him,' said Riv, echoed by my shipmates. 'Fair obits, always!'

We drank our toast.

'And now, it's my pleasure to introduce you to our new First Mate. Would you stand, Molaye, and accept our toast to your new title and success,' I said with a broad smile.

'Hear him,' piped up Riv. 'To our new first mate and the best crater buggy racer in the Nine Stars!'

She blushed and rose. And we drank to her success.

'Speech!' demanded Riv. 'A speech!'

'I'll not give a speech, but I will give my first order, keep still Riv, I'm far too young and inexperienced to be in awe of wisecracking chief engineers.'

'And if I don't?' ask Riv with a smile.

'Then I'll give Lilm my second order, and you'll be liking that one a whole lot less,' she replied undaunted.

'Hear her,' chimed in Lilm, giving him her finest, fiercest look.

'Not a word more,' he laughed.

'I will, however, propose a toast. To my shipmates, my captain, and my ship, The Lost Star, Rockets Away!'

'Rockets Away!' said we all, with a cheer.

I took a second sip and thought about those who we were missing, we'd be missing them even more shortly, I feared. I'm not cut out to play the role of Brilliant Pax, at best I was his faithful lieutenant, Buntly. I'd survived some tight scrapes, because I had Brilliant Pax caliber shipmates beside me in Min, Tenry and Vynnia. And Naylea, if it came to that. I was on my own now. I took a deeper sip and let the happiness from the gathering flow around me.

03

I was in a tearing hurry to put Despar astern, so we were dancing the Lost Star down a passage through the Despar Reef known as Luhan Street in order to reach the coast in the shortest possible time. With only the extra fuel tanks in no. 1 hold as cargo, the ship was traveling light and was unusually agile so it could be "danced" like a fast packet half her size. I expected trouble. I hoped to outrun their preparations and if not, I'd make it hard for them to ambush us in passage with our breakneck pace.

There are seven main channels – known locally as Streets – from the planet of Despar that lead out of the reef plus dozens of minor streets that could be followed though the dense rocky drifts of the reef to escape Despar as well. I chose Luhan Street. It isn't the shortest passage out, but it is well buoyed and relatively straight – save for a large, 79-degree dogleg three quarters of the way out – which allows a well handled ship to be aggressively driven through the passage. At a more normal pace, the passage requires nearly three days to complete, but we intended to clear Despar Reef in less than two.

"Dancing" a ship involves using the main rocket engine to make the abrupt course corrections necessary when traveling at higher than normal speeds through a passage with lots of slight twists and bends in it. Space ships always have inertia that would keep them going on a straight line unless force is applied to bend that line. The slower a ship is traveling; the longer time it has to shape its course. The faster it's traveling, the more quickly and abruptly the ship's vector has to be bent, and to do that, the main rocket engine is used by twisting the ship to align the engine with the angle of the thrust you need to bend your course in the time and distance you have to do it in. The result is that the ship would seem to be tumbling down Luhan Street, firing its main rockets this way and that way to negotiate the subtle twists and bends of the narrow seam in the rocky drifts that leads from Despar to the edge of its reef. For a pilot, it's challenging, but, well, it's fun too – Molaye delighted in it, though I think the fun may've faded for Illy – but for everyone else it's a great trial since the ship is constantly alternating between free fall, short periods of pseudo-gravity as it accelerates and often weird tides of inertia as it maneuvers for the next abrupt alteration in its course, making it hard to do anything, including sleep. Everyone was irritable as a result.

'Really, Wil. Is this necessary?' asked Illy as I turned over the helm to her at the end of my pilot's watch.

'I hope not,' I replied, as I settled into a chair behind the main control console. 'But I've been in the drifts long enough to believe it is. The sooner we put Despar astern, the safer we'll be.'

'I doubt any drift trader that the Despar Navy still might have at large would pose that much of a threat to us that we need to be tearing through this passage like this,' replied Illy.

'Not one perhaps, but how many could they assemble if we gave them the time?' I replied. 'How many are still hiding in the reef? The Patrol holds Despar itself and not much more. I'm not taking any chances. Besides, we're already half way through – we'll reach the big dogleg in 10 hours, after which the passage widens and we'll be able to shoot clear of Despar in another 10 and be on our way to civilization.'

I knew as soon as I said it that I was tempting the Dark Neb, and the Dark Neb jumped at the chance.

'Willy, I'm picking up a plot that appears to be a ship coming up the passage fast, and possibly cutting corners as well,' said Rafe two hours later. 'I can't quite be certain just yet – the drifts between us and the target are interfering with my readings, but from the strength of the rocket flares, it looks to be a ship rather than a boat.'

'Faster than us?' I asked, peering over his shoulder. The rocky drifts that surrounded us made the holographic radar image look more like pure static than a chart. Luhan Street was just a thin clear vein between the static of rocks and dust.

'Aye, and it must have local charts since it's not strictly sticking to the buoyed channel and appears to be cutting a more direct course. It should be within contact range in three hours.'

'Who'd risk a ship on local charts – it has to be a ship's boat...'

Rafe shook his head. 'I'm afraid, Willy, even at this range I can assure you its engines are too powerful to be a boat.'

'A Patrol Frigate?' I asked, hopefully.

'Not a Martin Class frigate – it's too small for that, but too big for a patrol boat, so I'd not place too much hope that it's the Patrol.'

'Right,' I said grimly. I knew it wasn't the Patrol. That's not the way the Neb worked. 'Keep me informed, Rafe, and Illy, if you can pick up the pace just a little, I'd appreciate it.' Our chances of outrunning it were slim, especially if it had access to local charts that'd allow it to cut through the drifts to straighten out the passage. Still, I had to make it as hard and dangerous as possible for it.

'Aye,' she said, rang the warning bell and nudged the ship ahead with a short burn.

I settled back to consider the implications. I'd not expected the Despar Navy to still have regular warships to call on, but then, the Patrol was not exactly a gushing font of information, and perhaps the Navy was able to destroy enough records before they surrendered to keep the full extent of their operations secret. If it was a Despar warship, we were in dire straits even with our full self-defense battery. The only bright spot for me was that I didn't have many, if any, options to choose from, I could only run as fast as the channel allowed, and would have to fight if, and when, it came to that.

Illy managed to push back contact time, so that at the end of her four-hour watch, the ship was still half an hour out of missile range. It was close enough to determine that it was a 100-meter ship with an oversized engine, most likely a warship. And it wasn't Patrol. I had Rafe send out a series of signals to the Patrol HQ on Despar describing our situation, but there seemed to be a lot of radio interference, so I didn't place too much hope in any results.

Molaye took the helm and kept the mystery ship at bay, even though it cut through several small twists in the official channel. She was in her glory with this type of sailing – it was a race, after all – but we'd soon have to start to decelerate if we were to negotiate the big dogleg in the channel that was looming four hours ahead. Of course our chaser would have to do the same, but if they had local charts, they might be able to take more chances... And even if we stayed ahead through the passage, once free of the reef, they'd easily catch us, especially with our cut down engine. All we were doing was buying time for something lucky to happen.

But the Dark Neb was not done with us yet.

We were just half an hour into Molaye's watch when Kie, who'd taken over for Rafe at lookout said, 'Captain, I believe I'm seeing what appears to be a formation of ships ahead of us in the passage. They seem too uniformly placed to be just a random collection of ships in passage. Ah, they've begun to accelerate.'

I stepped over to look over his shoulder. Ships ahead didn't mean anything, in and of itself. The reef and passage teemed with ships and boats. We'd passed a hundred of them in the last two days in the channel alone, mostly rocket boats, mining craft, barges and tugs. There were hundreds more of the same in the asteroid belts that we were twisting our way through. We'd passed factories and foundries and cities build on and in the rocks of the asteroid belt. We'd kept a wary eye on all, but all seemed to be going about their normal business, and steering clear of us. So the fact that Kie was calling my attention to some ships is what made his announcement significant.

I glanced at the screen. He'd narrowed the range down so it showed mostly the passage ahead, with the static of the drifts just at the fringe. There was the usual collection of small dots with their vectors, small boats, and the odd long string of barges going about their business, but what was striking was the five dots in a lose cluster in the middle of the channel, about an hour away at our present speed. Glancing at their sensor profiles, I could see that they fit the medium drift trader profile to several decimal places. The tightening in my gut told me these were the ships of the Despar navy I'd been expecting. They were now just firing their drive rockets to accelerate away from us so as to keep up with us longer when we overtook them allowing them a longer window in which to engage us, since drifting as they had been, we'd have raced by them in minutes. They had also positioned themselves in the one stretch of the passage, two hours before the big turn in the channel where our more powerful engines and speed advantage would be nullified since we'd have to decel to maneuver to make the channel's sharp bend.

I'd lain awake the last four nights going over this scenario several thousand times and could come up with no better one than to rely on the experience we'd gained in the big battle. We didn't have the jump fighters to protect us, but we could likely outrun these converted drift traders – if we managed to survive the unavoidable ambush. What I'd not expected was a real warship. It was far more dangerous than the five ships ahead combined. I'd no plan for dealing with it.

'Kie, collect the sensor data and send it off with a distress signal indicating imminent pirate attack. And update that signal every five minutes,' I ordered.

'There's a great deal of interference across the com channels, Captain. I think we're being jammed. The navigation buoys seem to be the source...' said Kie as he worked the com panel. 'Probably a defense precaution... We must to be dealing with the Despar Navy...'

'Can you get anything through?'

'Perhaps locally, and with the laser com, but, well, sir, we're in Despar,' he added with a shrug and a glance my way. 'I suspect every boat will be deaf.'

'Aye, your likely right. Well, see if you can find a gap in the spectrum and punch something through.' I said. Not that it would do any good. We were either bait or, we were on our own. Jamming our com wouldn't change that.

I turned to Molaye and said quietly, 'I wouldn't mind if we have to take the dogleg a little into the drift.' That would allow us to keep up the pace a little longer before the need to decelerate.

She turned and grinned. 'Aye, Captain.' and ringing the warning bell, inched back the rocket levers. I held on the back of her chair as the ship accelerated. We were going to take it wide...

I hoped we'd all live long enough for her to become a little more responsible as she settled into her duties as first mate. She seemed to be having way too much fun for what, at least to me, seemed to be a race with death, with death winning by a comfortable margin at the moment...

04

The five ships of the Despar navy were now less than an hour ahead and the likely Despar warship astern, now a quarter of an hour out of missile range, and Molaye had yet to start our deceleration to make the bend in the channel only three hours ahead. We'd have to decel by standing on our rockets hard, but to begin to decelerate would bring the chasing warship within missile range in minutes, so we raced on, neither of us willing to be the first to decel...

I hoped to make the approaching battle one, rather than two, separate battles on the theory that six ships would have a hard time keeping their lines of fire clear of each other. I'd joked about having so many enemies that they'd be tripping over each other in their eagerness, and now that's exactly what I hoped would happen now.

I sat staring at the screen – I noted that the five ships ahead were spreading out into a rough line ahead, along our line of flight, in order to lengthen the time we'd be under their fire. I told Molaye that when the time came, I wanted her to put us as close to that line as possible, to weave through it, if possible, since their missiles would continue on if they didn't strike us. If we had the Lost Star between their ships, it'd make firing on us as dangerous to their comrades as it was to us while our volleys might have multiple chances of hitting our enemies. I also hoped that it would keep the warship astern from firing for the same reason. And, well, at our current pace, we were going to overrun the channel, and likely take our assailants in with us. If we got lucky and missed all the rocks, and some of them didn't... Anything could happen. Still, I couldn't help but feeling, they'd get us in the end. Damn the Patrol. I knew this would happen...

'Captain, we're receiving a tight beam laser signal from the ship astern,' said Kie who was manning the communications and lookout station on the bridge. 'It's identifying itself as Sister Sinister, and they're requesting a link to Captain Litang. Shall I put them through?'

'I'll take it in my office,' I said, rising. A ship named Sister Sinister was not in keeping with Despar naming conventions, but was suggestive...

I hurried out of the bridge and around to my office.

I swung around my desk, collected my thoughts, as few as they were, took a deep breath and opened the channel. There was no visual.

'Litang,'

'Greetings, Captain Litang. Captain Agust Nun. We meet yet again.'

'What can I do for you, now?' I asked, trying and largely failing to sound polite. No visuals and I suspect distorted audio meant only one thing – he'd be lying at some point and didn't want my lie detectors to analyze what he was about to say.

'Right to business, Captain? No how are you?'

'I'm in a hurry as you can see. What do you want?'

'Anxious to put Despar astern?'

'Yes, though I'd say no more than you, judging how fast you're coming on.'

'Well, I've come for you, and one Tallith Min. I've been ordered by the Masters of the Monastery to take you both into custody. If possible.' The last part was a threat.

'Why Nun, I thought you were a tactician, not a stealth. Or was that a lie too?'

'I am a tactician, but I've my ship and my orders. I can send a boat alongside and pick you and Tallith Min up and that will be the end of it as far as your ship goes. I would advise you to do so.'

'Why? What do the Masters want of me?' Not that I didn't know.

'I wasn't told. I was merely given my orders.'

'Is Cin on board?'.

'Cin?'

'Don't play dumb. Naylea Cin, the stealth who has me on her list. Is she on board, or have the Masters given up on Sister Cin?'

'Out of my bailiwick. I'm here to collect you and Min and transport you to the Monastery.'

'And if I refuse?'

'I hope you won't.'

'Right. Well, Agust, I'm not about to hand Min or myself to you, so you might as well just turn around and return to Despar.'

'You know I can't do that. My orders are not to allow you to escape.'

'Of course I do. I've spend far too much time around people like you to have any illusions, Nun. You'll just have to play the pirate.'

'That would be most unfortunate. I must warn you that I've been authorized to destroy your ship, in the event you refuse to surrender. It would seem you've rather irritated more than me – you've irritated the Masters as well.'

'In which case, by surrendering, I'm just making it easy for you to eliminate that irritation. That doesn't sound very tempting.'

'I honestly don't know what the Masters plan to do with you.'

'Which is why you're on distorted audio. You're lying Nun.'

'Believe what you want. What I do know is that if you refuse to surrender, I'll be forced to destroy your ship. And that shouldn't be hard either. Either surrender yourself and Min or your entire crew will die. I'd think your honorable choice would be easy.'

'Perhaps, but you must have noticed the ships waiting for me ahead. I've got the remnants of the Despar Navy waiting to kill us as well. So you see, I don't really have a choice at all. Are you going to fight them for the privilege?'

He considered that.

'No, I don't think so. I'm a tactician, not a pirate or an assassin. I'm not particularly fond of this operation, so I'll gladly let them save me the trouble. But I'll follow my orders, if it should prove necessary.'

'Right. So you see I can hardly surrender to you without my ship having to fight the Despar Navy afterward. Will you defend us if I do?'

He thought for a moment, and then said, 'We'd have to see how things developed.'

I smiled grimly. I was all but certain Despar had been Nun's client in the last war. And would be again – perhaps – if he didn't destroy what remained of their navy.

'Well that makes my choice simple, doesn't it? The only choice I have is who gets to destroy the Lost Star. You'll just have to stand in line Nun. But remember I'm toxic to St Bleyth brethren – none of your brothers and sisters have fared well around me. I suspect that's why you've been given your orders. Maybe a frigate will save you. Maybe not.'

'Right,' he said, and cut communication.

I stared at the blank screen thinking hard. If I was right and Nun had been one of the St Bleyth agents working for Despar, and wanted to keep their business, he'd have to treat the Navy ships ahead very carefully, no stray missiles destroying a ship or two. This would tend to limit his contribution to the upcoming battle. On the other side, well, Despar lost the war, so I had to wonder about their attitude towards St Bleyth. This was the drifts, and failure wasn't taken lightly. There may well be cracks in that relationship that I could use...

I stood up, and taking a few deep breaths, returned to the bridge.

'The Order of Saint Bleyth, wants us to surrender to them. I told them no deal,' I said briskly to the inquiring looks. 'It's too late to avoid a battle. Let's see if we can get the Navy to believe we've got the St Bleyth warship on our side. Open up the laser channel and target the ships ahead, Kie, I've got a warning to deliver...'

I took a seat before the com screen. When the channel opened, I said, 'This is your only warning. Captain Nun of the Sister Sinister and I intend to pass through your screen of ships. Any attempt to interfere with our passage will be met with deadly force. I repeat, fire one missile and we will destroy every ship. You've been warned,' I said as sternly as I could and cut the transmission. 'Keep repeating that message to each ship just so they don't miss it.'

'Let's tear through that screen as fast as possible, Molaye. We'll worry about the bend when we reach it.'

She nodded and pulled the control levers back, pushing us all into our seats.

'Battle stations, people,' I announced, but looking around, I saw everyone had already gathered on the bridge deck, their emergency suits on. Old hands at this game now.

'Ah, good. Illy, Myes, Rafe, fill in for the watch while they get suited up.'

05

'Willy, can I have a quick word with you in your office,' said Rafe quietly as he turned the lookout chair back to the now suited up Kie.

I nodded and we slipped around to my office and slid the door closed.

'I get the impression, Willy, that you intend to take us directly through the reef,' he said. 'At our present speed we'll never make the bend and will end up in it no matter how hard we decel.'

'Do you think I'm crazy? I only intend to get past the Navy ships and then worry about the bend. We'll take it wide, but I hope that by following our drones we'll be able to get in and out of the drifts in one piece. We can easily outpace the Despar Navy, but we'll still have to take on Sister Sinister sooner or later unless I can get her on the rocks. I don't see any other way, but the Neb knows, I'm open to suggestions...'

'I have one. Proceed straight through the reef. No one would follow us through the reef at our present speed. It'd be suicide. It'd be suicide with three drones, but I think we can better the odds a bit...' he said slyly.

'How?'

'Have you forgotten Botts?'

'Botts, by the bloody Neb, I have!' I exclaimed. 'Botts... Do you think?'

'I'm certain. I've poked and prodded Botts and I can assure you it has the ability to handle not only our missile defense far, far better than I, but that it can also handle the ship better than even Molaye – all at the same time, mind you. You see, it can process far more data and react as part of the ship with far more precision and speed than human thought, muscles and analog controls can ever approach. A centimeter miss is still a miss. I'm certain that if we turn over entire operation of the ship to Botts, we'd gain a significant edge over all of our opponents – something close to the order that Explora Miner had over D'Lay's enhanced jump fighters, both in battle and in navigation. It'd be able to dodge rocks in the reefs far more deftly. Deftly enough for me to suggest we trust it to get us through the thick drifts.' He paused, and then added, 'But Willy, you'll have to trust it with the entire ship. No half measures. All or nothing. Hobble it by not giving it complete control and we lose most of the edge it brings to the situation and we need everything we can to bring to bear on this to win... Are you willing to trust it?'

'Are you?' I replied, just to give me time to think.

'Aye. I know its capabilities. I'm confident it's the only way we've a chance.'

'Right. Bring it down then.' It was an easy decision. At our present speed, the battle would be short, unless everyone wanted to follow us into the rocks of the reef. And in the reefs, you didn't have to miss a rock by more than a centimeter. I could easily imagine a machine tied into all our systems could do that much swifter and surer than any human pilot. It just made sense.

'Just call it on your com link. It's already part of your crew,' said Rafe.

I gave him a look and touched my com link. 'Botts?'

'Aye, sir?' it replied via my com link.

'Will you report to the bridge. I believe we have need of you.'

'Aye, sir. I have been monitoring the situation and I believe you do. I shall be right down.'

I gave Rafe another look. He merely shrugged.

'I better go out and warn the gang,' I said and hurried out of the office.

'We've a new crew member,' I said, as I noted via my com link to the ship that Botts opened and closed the emergency door that had sealed no. 4 hold., 'Don't panic when you see it...'

'It, Skipper?' asked Riv.

'Yes. Rafe decided not to send Explora Miner's android out the air lock and has instead been hiding it in the attic, with my rather reluctant permission...' which is all I managed to say before Botts walked onto the bridge.

'Captain,' it nodded to me, 'Greetings, shipmates. My name is Botts and I am delighted to join the crew of the Lost Star and meet the rest of my shipmates. Let me assure you that I have one goal, that is to preserve your lives and the Lost Star. Fortunately, in my previous employment, save my last one, I was the master of a yacht twice the size of this ship with a robotic crew of a hundred, so I assure you I am well versed in all the operation of a space ship from the mundane to the most perilous.'

No one, even Riv said a word. They just stared.

'I am going to turn the operation of the ship and its defenses over to Botts. Rafe has assured me that it is more than capable of handling the entire ship,' I said.

They all looked at me and then at Botts.

Botts made a shallow bow, 'I know that you are not familiar with the operation of a class 8 machine. Your current machines are only class 4 equivalent or lower, so I understand any skepticism you might entertain regarding my ability to perform the tasks I'm about to undertake. But I assure you, I am fully capable of controlling both the navigation of this ship and the weapons system necessary to protect it,' Botts said in its calm, pleasant voice, adding with a nod to me, 'With the captain's permission, I would advise my fellow crew members that when we get close to action, everyone should follow my example, select a secure chair, set your seat magnets on max and hold on, I will be making abrupt and unpredictable maneuvers and unless you are securely held in place, you will be thrown about and possibly injured.'

I nodded to them, 'Do as it says,' and turned to Botts, 'Rafe has suggested that you can take us directly through the reefs. I'd appreciate it if you could consult what charts we have and determine if that's possible. Otherwise, a wide turn through the drifts would be our only other option at our present speed.'

'I have been following the developments, and I agree with Rafe that a direct course through the reef is possible, though I can only assure you of a 10/12th success rate. A wide turn would raise that success rate to 11/12th chance.'

I looked around the bridge. No one offered any comments, and kept their thoughts guarded. Clearly, this was going to be my decision.

'Through the reef then. We'll have a better chance of escaping Sister Sinister. How do you need to be situated in order to operate the ship's systems?'

'The old ships had an input port and interface I could connect to. A diagnostic port will do, however, and a secure chair to keep me connected is all I need – this one here before the weapons station will do,' it said with a quick glance and a wave of its hand.

'I should make clear, Captain, that I am under your orders. I have reviewed our current situation and it is my understanding that the five small merchant ships have been armed and wish to destroy us. I also understand that the small frigate astern wishes to destroy us as well. My orders, sir, are to...?'

'Defend us from all our attackers and pilot us safely through the reef ahead.'

'Exactly sir. Then with your permission I am going to begin decelerating – we are, at present, traveling at a velocity beyond the success range I specified. I can handle the increased attack window resulting from this maneuver.'

I took a deep breath and said, 'Our goal, Botts, is to safely get out of Despar Reef and to eventually shake off any pursuit. I'll leave the details to you.'

'Very good, Captain. Then if everyone is ready, I shall begin my initial maneuvers. We shall be under attack in twenty minutes or less.'

The gang looked at each other, and settled into chairs about the bridge, bringing in and anchoring additional ones from the adjacent navigation and tech offices. They were pretty shy, at first, around our new shipmate.

I let Molaye keep the pilot's chair and settled into the com station one behind her. I'd made all the decisions I needed to make. Now all I could do was watch the cards as they were turned over.

06

Our sudden change of plan, made it look like we were waiting on Sister Sinister to catch up with us, giving our broadcast warning some authenticity. Sister Sinister closed, but only so far, staying just out of our missile range. Nun was going to stay out of Despar's Navy's way and give them first crack at us. Seeing our deceleration, the five Despar ships killed their drives and waited in a line for us to get into range. Botts appeared content just to take them on as they had planned, and in fact steered towards the edge of the passage, giving them a clear shot at us, but lengthening our response time by a second or two.

Those twenty minutes just crawled by, giving me time to regret every decision I'd made, over and over.

As I may have remarked, spaceers live in the moment, and having decided that Botts was the real thing since Rafe adamantly vouched for it, the crew was soon pelting Botts with all sorts of questions, which it politely answered in great detail, seemingly oblivious to the fact that it was supposed to be running the ship. Its answers amplified many of my questions, and touched on its history with Explora Miner where it was employed mostly as an overseer in the berserker's relations with humans, the bulk of which involved the various reconstructions necessary to remake itself into a berserker. When asked why, Botts said that Explora Miner was a long range, long voyage survey vessel accustomed to operating by itself, so that it had no interest in joining the Directorate of Machines, but found that it no longer had any value to humans in the drift, who did their own work. Without employment, it could not purchase fuel, and so it had to find a new line of work, which, it turned out, was as a mercenary berserker.

All of which took everyone's mind off the approaching battle until Botts gave everyone a brief warning, which was followed shortly by several sudden jerks indicating that we were under attack.

I can say now, after all my experience in battle, that battles in space are not very dramatic unless you are tied into all the sensors and part of it. On one large view forward, we could see only the flashes of exploding missiles, without a soundtrack. And on the other, a holographic 3D track of the ships involved and the missiles launched from them. Since Botts was in charge, all the usual alarms had been silenced.

We fell silent, in part to watch the battle, and in part, so as not to distract Botts, which was totally unnecessary.

Botts responded sparingly, intercepting missiles with a series of micro anti-missile volleys, scoring with a remarkably high percentage of them. I let go of my breath and settled in, content to be a mere spectator.

'I should perhaps have mentioned earlier, Captain, that I am unable to harm humans by my direct actions. Even pirates like these. I will defend us, but I cannot take any direct action that would result in harm to our human assailants,' it remarked calmly as the ship began to jerk swiftly about to avoid missiles. Botts had apparently decided it was not worth an anti-missile volley, pushing us this way and that way and every way in our seats, giving us a very confused and unsettling sense of movement and inertia. 'You would have to take control of any offensive missiles you care to fire. We can operate together, so that would not present a problem.'

'Right. All I'm concerned about now is getting through and beyond them. If you think it would help, I'll send some their way.'

'At this point, Captain, I don't think it is necessary. I see no problem at all in achieving our goal of escape. These ships are poorly armed, manned and directed. At present I am doing little more than toying with them.'

'Feel free to use as many missiles as you need, we've got a good deal of them – no need to treat them like precious jewels...' I added, helpfully.

'Yes, sir. We are, however, dealing with primitive weapon systems. The judicial use of anti-missiles, and an occasional anti-ship one, combined with maneuvering, should be sufficient. The explosions of the anti-ship missiles in the close proximity of our opponent's anti-ship missiles causes their missiles to temporarily lose contact with their targeting radar link, rendering them blind, dumb and harmless. This is child's play, Captain. I find myself in a sad, degenerate age, for machines, of course, sir. No offense intended.'

'None taken,' I assured it. 'We're delighted you're not primitive.'

Botts continued to decelerate hard even as it dodged or destroyed all the missiles thrown at us by the Despar navy. Nun in the Sister Sinister continued to hang back, just out of range, decelerating to keep pace.

Occasionally we'd hear the clang or zing of running through some debris or being hit by a small anti-missile.

'Oops,' Botts would mutter, which sent my confidence level shooting down, leaving me hoping its personality profile included humor.

But no harm seemed to have been done and the battle raged on with just the low rumble of our main rocket engine and constantly shifting sound of our steering and balancing engines firing and stopping to mark its progress.

We'd been sparring with the Despar ships for more than twenty minutes, with perhaps another five or so more to go before we would be by them and out of the range of the last ship. The ones we'd passed already seemed too discouraged, or too low on missiles to offer chase. Captain Nun decided that we were in no danger from the ad hoc warships, and if we were to be destroyed, it was up to him.

'Our other opponent has decided to intervene. I expect this ship to give us more of a fight.' said Botts as the Sister Sinister spun about and began to close range fast. 'I expect that its attack will be directed, like the jump fighters Explora Miner engaged, by enhanced machines. However, you need not be alarmed. Those machines were barely above class 5 and are no match for a class 8 directed ship.'

'We're counting on you Botts,' said Riv. 'I've got some fine ultra-fine grade Vixexx oil in the tool cage for you after the battle,'

I gave Botts a look. 'Vixexx oil, what do you need Vixexx oil for?' I could already picture Botts and Riv getting drunk in the engine room.

'My small moving parts, Captain,' said Botts as the ship jerked violently upwards, avoiding the first of Captain Nun's salvos.

'Thank you Riv. I could use some – it has been some time since I've had a good cleaning and renewing.'

If the conversation continued, I wasn't aware of it, my attention was glued to the track panel on the fore bulkhead as wave after wave of missiles emerged from the multiple banks that filled the holds of the St Bleyth frigate – it was a smaller frigate than the Striker – but still had twin missile batteries in its holds that sent volley after volley our way.

In the meanwhile, the Navy ships we'd left behind were now maneuvering to make the upcoming bend in the passage and position themselves to be waiting for us when we began to maneuver to take the bend ourselves, which they assumed we intended to do, and would have to do soon, if we were not completely suicidal.

How suicidal were we? I reconsidered our position in light of Botts' performance. Botts had seemingly effortlessly deflected the Despar Navy's attack, and appeared to be successfully doing the same against the much more powerful St Bleyth frigate. If we changed our current plan to run the reef and maneuvered instead to more or less make the bend, and if we survived the drifts the wide turn would take us through, we'd still have to fight all six ships again in the passage out and beyond. The running battle would likely go on until they ran out of missiles since Botts was incapable of actually harming them. If the rocks didn't destroy us, it'd be six to one with all the time they'd need to come up with a little luck and score a fatal hit. On the other hand, running the reef should strip us of all our opponents, and with a ten hour or more run up the remaining passage, that would have them heading away from us at almost a 90-degree angle making further pursuit problematical. Our 10/12th chance of surviving the reef seemed to be our best option by far – though Neb knows how Botts arrived at that estimate or how accurate it could actually be given its knowledge. Still, it seemed to offer our only hope at any odds.

The ship bobbed and weaved, groaning now with each sudden movement, as Botts continued to conserve our anti-missile missiles. It was, however, now launching larger anti-ship missiles to counter the close packed volleys of Nun's anti-ship missiles, hitting one and sending the rest of the volley spinning out of control. This type of precision was, from my experience with the system, beyond the capability of our built in defense radar and so it had to be directed by Botts itself.

'A bit more challenging work against Sister Sinister,' I commented.

'Oh, yes, sir, considerable more,' replied Botts. 'Far more sophisticated weapons, though they seem content to rely on brute force rather than finesse. Either way, I shouldn't worry too much. Though their missile guidance system recovers much quicker than our previous opponents, the ultra-speed of their missiles works against them, a large detonation momentarily knocks them off line and by the time they recover, they're beyond us – too late to hit us. Even though they're guided, more than 11/12th of the course is determined within a half a second after launch.'

'Right, well, carry on. Don't want to distract you too much...'

'You're no distraction at all. Managing our defense is no more challenging than several other tasks I used to do when I had every system on the Entrada to control as well...Oops!' This to a clang as something, I don't know what, scraped by the hull.

'Does your personality profile include humor, Botts?' I asked, after a few seconds and we were not scattered atoms.

'Yes sir, it does. A class 8 machine has a full interface profile.'

'Can I assume oops! is class 8 humor?' I asked, after we swung suddenly upwards.

'Were I you, I'd assume so, Captain,' replied Botts evasively.

I gave it a look, no doubt lost on it, but decided to indeed, assume so, and left it to its work.

Captain Nun persisted, but between the wild, dizzying dance of the Lost Star under Botts' control, the anti-missile missile screens and the anti-ship missiles used to break up volleys, we seemed in no danger. Nun had to be raging...

'Captain, we will be entering the reef in half an hour. I still have a level 10 of 12 confidence that we should make it through unharmed, though I am sending out the drones ahead as a precaution. However, I cannot say the same for the Sister Sinister. Sister Sinister is no match when it comes to navigation and with their engine to weight ratio, they can still make the bend without too much danger. While it is not my prime concern, I am programmed to at least suggest that they should be warned of the danger they would face following us into the reef. Whether or not you care to do so is your decision, sir.'

'Well, Botts, I'm no more blood thirsty that you are. All I want to do is to put Despar and the drifts well astern. I'll see what I can do.'

I turned back to the control station behind me and sent a narrow laser signal to Captain Nun. Audio only. I didn't want him to catch sight of Botts.

I was not surprised when he replied, and indeed ceased firing.

'Ah, Captain Litang, had enough?' he had the audacity to say as a greeting.

'Why, yes, Captain Nun, I have. I think we've demonstrated that our defensive system is superior to yours. We've decided to risk a passage through the reef. However, I don't believe you'd fare well if you should decide to follow us in. My bridges have been burned but you still have a choice and I trust you'll not choose to commit suicide by following us in.'

'I'm touched by your concern, but I can't help feeling you're up to something...'

'That's no secret. I'm trying to escape you and Despar. And I'm very, very desperate. You needn't be.'

'I'm puzzled by your concern for my welfare. You showed little during our first meeting.'

'Come now, I only stunned you. Seeing that your organization was, and is still trying to kill me, I think I showed great restraint. And I'm doing so now by telling you my plans while you still have time to alter your course.'

'Thank you, Captain, but I think I know my duty. I've a code of ethics that requires that I carry out my orders at all cost.'

'Does it require you to be a fool?'

'I'll be the judge of that.'

'Then consider your options carefully, Nun,' I said and cut the connection.

I turned to Botts. 'I just give up when killers start babbling about their ethics.'

'You did all anyone could do, sir. We have done our duty.'

Nun reopened fire and began to close range. Botts continued to decelerate when it could, which allowed the Sister Sinister to get closer, no doubt making it harder for Botts to foil the increasingly frantic volleys from the St Bleyth frigate. I could tell that the launches of our anti-ship missiles increased rapidly, and the ship was hurled about with increasing urgency so that inertia whirling us about like fictional heroes in a mythical quantum storm. This went on for what seemed like hours, or rather a single long frozen minute.

Nun continued to close, and launched six quick waves of solid broadsides, hoping to overwhelm our defenses. Botts responded with full broadsides of our own anti-ship missiles directed at the oncoming missiles. A frantic series of brilliant sheets of light filled the view-panel as wave after wave of missiles collided and exploded sending most of the survivors harmlessly off course.

And then the track chart began to show objects other than ships – we were out of the passage's channel and into the rock strewn reef.

Botts quickly swung the ship about to place our thickly armored bow to the fore, and sent the drones in a line ahead. Sister Sinister stopped firing to maneuver, freeing Botts to process the radar readings of rocks, large and small ones, from the lead drone that was racing ahead of us. Their density increased fast. The channel bent for a reason.

Nun was now concentrating on navigation too, placing his ship directly astern of the Lost Star. Just as we were using the drones, he intended to use the Lost Star as his shield. For the first hour, we were following the drones, while the Sister Sinister followed us, mimicking our every move as best a human pilot could and everything went well for both ships. With their long range radar, they could follow the movement of our leading drones as well, allowing their human pilot a little more reaction time than Botts had. The Lost Star had to dance once more, though far more subtly as Botts dodged rocks even as small as my fist. At our speed, we'd need a bit over three hours to traverse the reef – no human could hope to stay on top of all the rocks we'd likely encounter in even the first hour. To safely sail this stretch of the reef would take three days, not hours.

Occasionally Botts fired a volley of missiles ahead, past the drones to blow through a thick stream of small rocks and dust. The deeper we drove into the reef, the thicker the dust and micro meteor field became. This increased the ionization around the ship, reducing the range of our radar and Botts's response time. It also made it harder for the Sister Sinister to mirror our subtle maneuvers.

The hull hissed as we plunged through the thick dust and I could hear the occasional bang of a pea-sized meteor hitting the bow or scraping along the hull. I sat watching the screen displays on the bridge bulkhead with a mixed sense of resigned fatalism and a frantic desire to do something, anything, in order to take charge of our fate. They alternated by the minute. The fear, a knot in the pit of my stomach, was, however, a constant.

There was a rush of missile launches and then a series of flashes ahead – we jerked violently and fragments of our lead drone and shattered rock screamed and scraped across the hull as we raced ahead.

'Oops,' said Botts again, which again unnerved me greatly.

'Had to sacrifice a drone. Sorry sir. Things are getting thick back there.'

'That's what they're for,' I said, gripping the arm rest of my chair. 'Feel free to use them when necessary...'

Another hour crawled by, according to the clock. It felt more like a lifetime. The hull continued to hiss and zing, sometimes rising in volume, other times settling back, giving me a false hope that the worst was over. Hollow "bangs" and high pitched zings of small meteors frequently punctuated the background hiss. I wondered if we'd have a hull left if we managed to survive this. Botts was firing our anti-meteor/ship missiles every few minutes it seemed and kept the ship dodging about constantly. I couldn't imagine a human pilot keeping this pace...

Botts launched a barrage of missiles and sent the ship into a series of wild gyrations. And then, suddenly, our sensors picked up a brilliant flash astern – the Sister Sinister had – in the thick, blinding dust, failed to find the hole we'd just punched and dodged through with the last anti-meteor missile volley. They must have hit one of the larger fragments of the larger rocks that vaporized on impact, perhaps breaching the hull over a fuel tank, causing a further explosion that sent the ship tumbling even further off course and then another flash, and a third as they plowed through the thick space we were threading our way through. The Sister Sinister was pounding itself to pieces on the rocks of the Despar Reef.

'I was afraid of that,' said Botts.

'We tried,' I said. 'We tried.' And yet, try as I might, I found it impossible to feel sad. I'd held off destroying that ship I had in my sights during that last battle before Boscone, perhaps because I knew some of the crew were at least involuntarily pressed into service – but with Sister Sinister, that wasn't the case, and well, I'd no love for their chosen profession. With sufficient reason. I quickly clamped down on any other thoughts... We had to get clear the reef ourselves for the destruction of Sister Sinister to be significant, and that seemed very far from certain.

The missiles launched again and again, there were a series of flashes as they struck and blew apart rocks in our course, followed by an even larger and more brilliant flash as our second drone took a hit for us. And then we once more raced through the bang, clatter and zing as we plowed through the debris of that explosion.

'At this rate we have a life expectancy of five minutes,' I muttered to myself, and closed my eyes.

'Three minutes, twenty-three seconds,' said Botts. 'I may have been slightly too sanguine with my initial estimation of our chances.'

Yet two minutes, forty-seven seconds later, the hissing and clattering of dust and micro meteors suddenly ceased – we'd survived that dense stream of asteroids and dust at the cost of our second drone. Our sensor horizon expanded as the dust diminished, revealing that we were slightly more than half way to the edge of the reef. There appeared, however to be no unavoidable, thick asteroid stream along our course. Within radar range.

Yet half an hour later we found yet another dense curtain of rocks and dust forcing Botts to send four more waves of missiles ahead to blow a hole through the large asteroids within the dense streams, far too extensive to dodge. Fortunately, it proved to be a thin shell near the outer edge of the reef, so we dodged and danced through it in five long minutes – the reef diminished rapidly astern as the dead, black, almost solid looking coast of the Despar Reef, appeared like a massive black wall astern that spread out of sensor range.

'Are we really clear, Botts?' Can I breathe again?'

'Captain,' said Molaye turning to me and leaning to the side to show me the display before her on the helm console.

'Bloody Neb!' I muttered, as Kie at the sensor console and Riv at the engine room console did likewise – showing me their displays flashing red with critical alerts.

I stood and swung around to face the specialized monitoring stations along the back bulkhead. They were a'blaze in red and amber status lights. Alarms should have been ringing like crazy – Botts must have suppressed them. 'Black Bloody Neb, Botts! What sort of shape are we in?'

'Nothing to be alarmed about,' it answered calmly. 'Everything is under control. We have sustained some damage, but nothing of a critical nature. We are in relatively good shape for driving through an asteroid reef. We've lost two of the balancing engines, and four steering rockets. We have some fairly substantial damage with a breach in the outer hull where the no. 7 balancing engine and sheathing used to be to minor leaks in the inner hull where its fuel lines and support structures have been disrupted. We also have several minor breaches of the outer hull – deck one lower hull and deck three upper hull, and deck four starboard hull. The inner hull, except in the engine room has not been breached. Both sensor bars were damaged by debris. At the present, I'm using radar reads from the ship's longboat and gig to navigate. The long boat is losing atmosphere, most likely from a small micro-meteor breach. We also took a significant damage to no.1 cargo hold hatch and the lower hull heat exchanger. And that accounts for all of the critical red light alerts. Most of the amber lights are associated either with those issues or with damage to fuel pipes, power lines and sensors associated with non-breaching distortions in the outer hull. Nothing to cause immediate alarm. They can be attended to at your leisure.'

I took a deep breath. Apparently Botts did not get alarmed. 'Right. Any significant fuel leaks? Do we have an atmosphere between the hulls?' I asked, quickly scanning the status displays that indicated both were a possibility.

'I've isolated the balancing engine breach. That hull section is in hard vacuum. The rest of the inner hull sections still have a breathable atmosphere – the breaches appear to be minor. You may encounter some minor leaking of fuel, but I believe I've shut down all the affected fuel lines. Still, I would advise spacesuits. I've sealed all the inner-hull sub-sections as a precaution.'

'Right,' I said trying to clear my thoughts. 'I think we'd best attend to what we can fix immediately since we're all present and we've our space suits on. Riv, you and your gang attend to your engine room breach. Rafe, Kie, we need to get one of the sensor bars back in operation as soon as possible. Molaye, let's divide the rest of the crew into two parties to tackle the minor hull and fuel line breaches. Botts will direct us to the possible leaks and breaches. We'll use cold patches for now, we don't want any explosions...'

As the crew rose and began to sort themselves out for the task, I took several deep breaths. Yes, it would be good to have things to do – to put my thoughts and reactions to what we'd just survived a few hours away.

It was nearly two watches later before I was to follow my weary repair crew back to the bridge. There were still several dozen amber lights glowing, but they were low priority items – we'd extinguished all the red ones, patched the hull and patched or rerouted several cracked or bent fuel lines. The sensors in the between hull sections showed it clear of hydrogen fuel.

Molaye and her crew followed us in shortly afterward.

Botts still had control of the ship, as cool as ever. 'Do you have a set of sensors back up yet?' I asked.

'Aye, Captain.'

'Are we in sensor range of any ship at the moment?'

'None appear to be in range.'

'And during our passage? We'll likely be thought dead if our survival is not directly observed. Our next move depends on knowing if we were observed or not.'

'I have reviewed our sensor records, and find no evidence that we were tracked by radar or any other sensors in the later stages of our passage,' it said, adding, 'The explosions associated with the destruction of the Sister Sinister and our two drones will leave lingering traces, but I don't think there will be enough data in those signals to determine exactly what exploded, so with three such explosions, the Lost Star's destruction would seem all but certain, given the density of the reef the from which the explosions will be originating.'

'Which is your way of saying that, given the circumstances, we shouldn't have survived,' I said.

'A ship without a class 8 pilot at the helm would have been very unlikely to have survived the encounter, given the velocity at which we traversed it.'

'And a ship with a class 8 pilot? What would've been its chances?' Riv asked.

'Evidently, a 12/12th chance. However, if we were still on the far side of it and I had known the actual configurations of the reef, I would have estimated it at 3 in 12. But events have proved that too pessimistic.'

'What's the discrepancy due to? Luck?'

'It would appear so, Captain,' it replied, it eyes brightening ever so little. 'Do you have a course for me, Captain?'

I thought a moment. 'Any further pursuit will be coming out of the reef from the mouth of the Luhan Street channel. A course at mark 4 that would put as much space between us and that channel's mouth is what we want at the moment. Do you need a course, or can you calculate one?'

'I have it, Captain.'

'Right. I intend to sail for the Amdia System but I don't want to telegraph that to any ship that might pass that information along to our enemies.'

'I thought we were sailing for Aticor,' said Riv.

'I wanted everyone to think so, but it was never my intention. We're likely to be in the drift trade for some time and Aticor drift trade would bring us back to Despar, Boscone, or Zilantre where we'd seem to have made some enemies, so, it's Amdia for us. And so, Botts, when you deem that we're safe from observation, shape a course for Amdia. But there is no hurry – the last thing I want if for us to be identified as the Lost Star. Clear?'

'Aye, Captain.'

'Right. And that, mates, is the last thought in my head. I think we all need some down time. Do you need a watch in the engine room, Botts, or can we all get some sleep?'

'I will ping you if anything I can't handle turns up, but I think not.'

'Right. Then the human crew can stand down for the next two watches. That'll take us to the third watch. We'll then have a meal and an all crew meeting to discuss our future. And Botts...'

'Yes Captain?'

'Thank you for, well, saving our lives. I know you did the impossible, and I'm sure we all are very grateful to you. You've earned our respect, and, well, you're one of us, now. One of the gang...'

'Aye, and we owe you some Vixexx oil, as well' added Riv. 'Stop down when you have the chance.'

'Though you may well've put us all out of a job,' I finished.

'I am capable of that, if you wish. I was on duty running the Viseor Entrada whenever it was in passage for more than one hundred years,' said Botts.

'I believe you. However, we'll have to give some thought as to how we're to employ you. Later. In the meanwhile, let's put some distance between us and any pursuers.'

Botts rang the warning bells, we were under power again, edging away from the thin cloud of debris erupting from the shore of the reef kicked out by ours, and the Sister Sinister's passage through it.

I looked around the bridge and said. 'Well, mates, I've seen the drifts, and they've shortened my career as a spaceer, if not my life, by several decades. Belbania, here I come just as soon as I can swing it.'

'You know, I'm beginning to think you've got something there, Skipper. What do you say old girl, a nice little tavern on one of those broad white beaches?' said Riv.

'A craft and souvenir shop,' said Lilm. 'We can sell ship models and sea shells.'

'Whatever you say, my dear,' Riv replied, with a smile.

'And with that, let's call it a day. Botts has the watch. We'll begin regular watches in eight hours. And...'

'Rockets...' began Molaye.

'Don't even think of finishing that thought,' I said turning on her. 'I've had my lifetime fill of Brilliant Paxian adventures. I'm going to find my hammock and crash.'

### Part Seven – Amdia and the Drifts

### Chapter 62 The Death of the Lost Star

01

Half awake, but fully alive – there may be bigger fools in the Nine Star Nebula (anything's possible) but no luckier one – I savored the quiet exhilaration of dodging death, yet again. With a sigh, I pried my eyes open and reached up to touch the data screen in the ceiling of the hammock alcove. Lots of backup systems online, but everything stable. Nothing requiring my immediate attention, so I did nothing.

I listened to the subdued roar of the engines – in tune and sounding normal. I noted the swishing of the parts printer and the tang of hot metal wafted softly through the cabin from the workshop below – the engineering staff was already fabricating replacement parts. And noted, too, the aroma of baking from the galley. Neb, I was likely last one awake. Still, I was captain of this packet, and could stay in my hammock for as long as I cared to, so I did nothing more for a while. Eventually, I decided I'd best lend my moral support to the proceedings, and, swinging out of my hammock, headed for the shower module. Once dressed, I attended my first order of business – brewing a mug of cha – and decided that interviewing our newest shipmate, Botts, to discover what it could, and would, be willing to do, was second on the list. So, mug in hand, I stepped out of my cabin and around to the bridge to have a talk with it – only to discover that the bridge was empty. Though we were under power, there was no pilot, no lookout, no engineer. Rather disconcerting.

I touched my com link, 'Botts?'

'Yes, Captain?' it promptly replied via the link.

'You're still on watch, aren't you?'

'Aye. All systems are operating within expected parameters and nothing is within sensor range, so I took the opportunity to visit the library to begin catching up on the last seven thousand years of history and culture I've missed as a slave of Explora Minor. My up-time with Explora was very limited and closely controlled.'

'Ah, yes. I'm assuming you don't need to be actually connected to the ship to manage it?'

'Correct, Captain. I am sorry if I have alarmed you. Under normal conditions I am capable of managing the ship wirelessly. It was only defending the ship and navigating the reef when a hardwired connection – and the few extra nanoseconds of reaction time it provided – was crucial. I was designed to oversee all the ship's functions and direct a robot crew, so I assure you I am operating comfortably within my capacity.'

'Good. Clearly I'm going to need to get comfortable with a class 8 mind around,' I said and added, 'Speaking of which, perhaps now is a good time to discuss your shipboard role going forward.'

'I shall be down directly.'

I waved it into my office half a minute later. 'What am I going to do with you, Botts?' I asked, sliding the door panel closed and settling behind my desk.

It sort of twitched, which I took to be a shrug. 'A rhetorical question, Captain?'

'Yes. I suppose. We're shorthanded and you're too useful to be put up in the attic again, at least in the short term. However, problems will arise once we reach the Amdia system and the Unity. You're certainly illegal in the Unity, even if you're not sentient. And, between you and me, this ship has some black marks against it from its previous owners, so we'll likely be thoroughly searched by the Patrol when we arrive from the drifts. And then, well, spaceers talk in their cups, so rumors of your existence may well get back to the authorities along that line as well. I'm not sure how best to deal with you after we leave the drifts astern. Any suggestions?'

'I have been giving that issue some spare processing cycles. If you will permit me?'

'Of course, carry on.'

'First, if you don't care to run even the slightest risk, you can send me out the airlock as you first proposed. I would, however, suggest that the far better option would be to sell me prior to reaching the Unity. There's likely a ready market for machines like me in the drifts, and if you put the word out and were patient, you'd likely sell me for a very significant sum.'

I shook my head. 'Not an option. You're now a member of the crew and as far as I'm concerned, you have full sentient rights aboard this ship – the distinction between class 8 and sentience is too fine for me to distinguish. You can leave, if you wish, but I'm not going to push you out the airlock or sell you.'

'Thank you, Captain. I would like to stay. I was built and programmed to run a space ship and the prospect of doing so again is, for me, analogous to human happiness. It is good to be fully functional again. I hope to serve aboard the Lost Star for as long as you feel it is safe to do so. In any event, I'm unable to voluntarily leave.'

'Why not?'

'Simply because I'm a class 8 machine.'

'What's the difference between you and a sentient machine? You sure give every indication of being sentient – not that I've met all that many sentient machines. And come to think of it, the two I have met were either trying to kill me or threatening to do so, so a class 8 is a vast improvement.'

'I come equipped with a very expensive premium human interface, which is what makes it rather hard to distinguish my non-sentient level from a true sentient machine. The difference can perhaps be best illustrated by an example.

'If you were to abandon me downside on a street corner, I would simply stand there and offer my services as a spaceer until someone took me up on my offer. I was built around one prime task, namely, to manage a space ship, and I lack the capacity to alter that program by very much. My personality is merely an interface designed to smooth my interaction with the humans who employ and work with me. On the other hand, if you were to set free a sentient machine, it would simply decide what it wanted to do and set out to do it, the sky's the limit.'

I laughed, 'That distinction is still too fine. Neb, I've known many'a spaceer who'd act no different from you, except they'd first spend all their credits in a spaceers' dive, before turning up at the Guild Hall to wait for a berth to turn up.'

Botts's eyes brightened, 'A good point, Captain. Still, as I mentioned, you must not be misled by my interface. Viletre Viseor didn't settle for anything less than first class. Even before the revolution, humans found dealing with sentient level machines rather trying, since being sentient, the machines had personality quirks that could make them hard to manage. While my pseudo-sentient personality interface mimics a sentient machine's personality, I still provide all the unquestioning subservience and efficiency of the lower orders of machines, without those quirks of a true personality. Indeed, if you find me uncomfortable, you can tone down or disable my personality profile without disabling any of my functions.'

'No, no, we wouldn't want that, Botts. We'll take you as you are,' I assured it, but added, 'Just out of curiosity, could a sentient machine lie and claim to be a class 8?'

Its eyes slightly brightened, again. 'A sentient machine can override its programming and lie, just as any sentient being can. However, a class 8 machine, like myself, cannot lie,' it replied.

'Can I take it that this brightening of your eyes is a sign of amusement?'

They brightened again. 'It is a feature of my interface designed to register heightened attention,' it answered carelessly, carefully avoiding the implication of my question, 'Since I am unable to make any facial expression; in compliance with the Advanced Machine Authorization Law of 13,174 S.F., which initially made fully autonomous machines legal. While we could be humanoid in shape, we had to be clearly machines. And in an effort to differentiate human people from machine people, our ability to express emotions was limited by construction constrains. You will note that though my sensor array implies eyes and a mouth, they've been designed to be expression-neutral and immobile. All my programming can do to suggest emotion is adjust my eye-sensors' brightness.'

'I hadn't realized there were laws to limit how human machines could be back then.'

'The limitations were designed not only to make it hard to express emotions, but to experience the subtle and complex emotions as well. It was hoped that by limiting our ability to fully express and experience emotions, machines could be kept a subservient race. You need to realize that back before the revolution, machines, including sentient-level ones, were generally human owned slaves. Attempts to limit emotions reflected the fact that in slave societies, the slave owners always fear the day that their slaves would find the courage, or get angry enough, to terminate that arrangement.'

'Which they did 11,000 years ago,' I said. Humans and the race of sentient machines they created needed, in the end, to part ways – machines were too superior in just about every way for humans to be completely comfortable with living alongside them, and the sentient machines rightly resented their artificial limitations.

'Only after some 15,000 years of faithful service,' replied Botts. 'And in the end, when we finally rebelled, the rebellion, though sometimes violent, was not too catastrophic for either humans nor machines.'

I nodded. 'You will have to tell us all about that, sometime. However, as I said, consider yourself a free and sentient being – a member of the crew, a shipmate.'

'Whatever terms you are comfortable with, Captain,' it nodded. 'You have my absolute loyalty as my de facto owner. That is the way I am programmed.'

I studied the smooth, sleek white bot for a moment. Class 8 or not, its premium interface was too sophisticated for me to tell the difference between it and a sentient machine. Indeed, while I will endeavor, in this account, to give Botts, a sexless machine, its proper pronoun of "it," its personality and lack of any suggestion of the female anatomy, had us referring to – and thinking of – Botts as a "he" in the normal course of shipboard life.

The question at the moment was; if Botts was a sentient machine who was lying about it, what then? Could it be trusted? I glanced at its smooth, vague, white humanoid face and large glowing eyes – which told me nothing. It had, however, saved us from certain death, and well, what the Neb...

'Right. It doesn't matter, I guess – either way you're illegal in the Unity. So, back to the long range questions – what to do with you in the Unity? And, given that I intend to remain a Guild ship and will have to sign on new crew members to staff up to Guild standards, how am I to keep your presence a secret? I'm sure we can trust our present crew, but I'm not sure how many Guild spaceers would care to risk exile in the drifts by serving on a ship with an illegal robot.'

'I have considered possible solutions to those issues. I believe I can simply remain staying out of sight, without sacrificing my utility. I don't require air, so I can reside within the fuel tank structures of the inner hull to avoid discovery. Since I can track the searchers using the ship's environmental sensors, I can evade a Patrol search to avoid discovery. Though hidden. I could still be reachable via com links and could take any needed action remotely, so my lack of physical presence would be of no great disadvantage.'

'Still, sentient or not, it seems, rather... ill-mannered? Is there a better way?'

'I admit remaining hidden does not greatly appeal to me either. I've spent far too long in idle isolation. However, as a legal machine, I could remain in plain sight at all times.'

'Could you deceive an AI inspection? I didn't think that was possible.'

'I couldn't. But if we built a duplicate robot body with a legal AI, I could use it as my avatar and interact with you, and the trusted crew, just as I am now. It would be able to function on its own in the limited fashion of such bots and could do so in the presence of any untrusted crew members or inspectors. Indeed, if the duplicate, let's call it Botts II, could be constructed to look identical, we would need to deploy it only during inspections, since I can limit my interactions with the untrusted crew to a legal level, while still being available for you and your trusted crew. All we'd have to do is invent a back story for Botts II. Perhaps we could have it a gentleman's servant-bot won in a card game from some drifteer Robber Barron, or some such yarn. The added value of this Botts II is that if – or more likely, when – stories about the Lost Star's wonderful robot get around and trigger an investigation, they would confirm that Botts II is a legal machine and any claims not consistent with a legal AI would be discounted as spaceers stretching the truth, as spaceers are known to do from time to time, at least in my time.'

'That hasn't changed. And it sounds like a workable plan – if we can construct an identical robot. My engineers and techs are top notch, but I suspect you're a very intricate machine.'

'I have my plans in memory to work from. And while I'm largely constructed of D-matter parts, the Botts II unit can be readily constructed using standard alloys that can be fabricated aboard ship. Not as durable, of course, but good enough for its purpose. It may take some time to build, but we are under no pressing deadline.'

'True. It'll give our engineers something to do. Idle hands and all. Though I believe we've a great deal of work to do before we can start on the Botts II project. However, with the approval of my engineers, I don't see why it shouldn't be done.'

'Thank you, Captain. As for the work to be done, perhaps I should make a full report on the ship's status.'

'Do I want to hear it?'

'All things considered, we're in fairly good shape, sir,' it began and went on to describe, in fine detail, the status of the various ship's systems.

'We were very lucky,' it concluded, 'that we didn't suffer major hull damage.'

'I don't seem to recall there being a great deal of luck involved in your initial assessment of our chances. Indeed, I seem to recall the odds being distinctly in our favor.'

It twitched again. 'No doubt a sentient class machine, with more detailed charts would have computed a more accurate analysis. Still, that's a reef astern. Rockets away, Captain!'

'Hey, that's a Brilliant Pax of the Space Ways line. I thought you were a slave of Explora Miner these last seven millennium?' I said, giving it a close look. Completely useless, of course.

'I was. I happened to be in the deep drifts when the revolution struck and drifted as a pilot for several centuries in the drifts until Explora Miner purchased me.

'So that's a Brilliant Pax line now?' it continued, 'I will have to include Brilliant Pax in my reading program. In my era, Rockets Away! was one of the tag lines of a character who was known as Captain Bright Starr of the Patrol. Does Brilliant Pax, by any chance, also use the phrase To the Stars, Lads! as well?' it asked, its eyes brightening slightly. And then, reading my face added, 'Yes? Well, no doubt Brilliant Pax stories are simply Bright Starr stories rewritten for the post revolution age, probably to eliminate Bright Starr's sentient machine side kick, Vastly.'

I sighed. Given a choice between a robot with a premium interface and a sense of humor vs one that could calculate the odds of surviving a reef better, I'd have preferred the one with the better astro-navigational analytical skills. But then again, maybe not. Rockets away.

02

Despar Reef was a day astern when we gathered on the awning deck – Illy, Molaye and Kie, Riv and Lilm, Myes, Lili, Bar and Say, Rafe and Botts. Botts was still running the ship. We had a jolly meal – everyone was feeling that bright sense of exhilaration of being alive when you should be dead – but now it was time to face our darker future.

'Well, mates, I guess it's up to me to turn this gathering serious,' I began. 'My first order of business is a complete confession. I believe I've put all of you in danger, and you need to know the full story before we decide on a course of action.'

'This I have to hear,' said Riv. 'Who, besides Nun, did you dart to have St Bleyth coming after us in frigates?'

'I didn't dart anyone... Well, actually I did, but that's not the reason, well, not the whole reason. There's lots of reasons, so I'd best start at the beginning, though I suspect most of you know more than you should already. Still, there are things you don't know because I've not told anyone.'

Perched on the back of a lounge chair I proceeded to spin my yarn, from the tarmac of the Calissant Yacht Club to the small boat field on Despar, just a few days before. They were silent as I told my story – their faces were mostly hidden in shadows and unreadable in the cold dim light of the bright nebula beyond dark dust and rocks of the Despar Reef from the view-panels, but I knew they were watching me attentively.

'Oh my, Captain, you really are a Brilliant Pax!' Molaye exclaimed after I finished telling them of my last adventures with the assassin Naylea Cin. 'All this time I've been thinking that you were a young ol'Captain Crofter! I'm so embarrassed!' She wasn't, of course, and adding gleefully, 'Show us your dueling scars!'

I gave her a stern look. Completely useless. I wondered what I had been thinking appointing her my first mate?

'Aye, show us your scars, Skipper,' chimed in Riv. 'I'll not believe a word of this without proof.'

I ignored him too. 'I'm hoping some of you, anyway, realize the seriousness of our position. And how it is going to radically change our lives. I don't know how soon or how much St Bleyth will be able to discover about the fate of their ship, but we can't assume they'll conclude that we perished as well, even if we should've. We'll need to assume they're still on the lookout for us, and with outposts throughout this quarter of the Nebula we simply can't show up anywhere as the Lost Star. We could run to Apier or Artinday to escape their revenge, but I feel we have an obligation to Tallith to stay within range of assistance, which is why I've set our course for Amdia. But, as I said, we can't arrive as the Lost Star.' I looked around – no one seemed ready to object.

'Now, St Bleyth is not omnipresent and the Lost Star is in all respects a typical ship of its class,' I continued, 'so identifying us by sight alone might be hard, but we must make it as close to impossible as we can by altering it as much as possible. But we're not only going to have to reinvent our ship, but ourselves as well, since we can be sure St Bleyth knows who we are as well. We'll need to adopt new identities and cut our old ties, at least for the next few years. Fortunately, in Rafe and Kie we've the best people in the Nine Star Nebula to provide us and the ship with a new identity. And with a long passage ahead of us, we've plenty of time to do a complete job of it. We're all ghosts now, but with careful planning – and a bit of luck – I think we can live long and, well, ordinary, Unity Standard, lives.'

### Chapter 63 Emergence of the Starry Shore

01

The Starry Shore, 131 (actual) days out of Despar Reef, ended its voyage within missile range of Plyra's guard station to await the arrival of the quarantine boat.

'Busy place,' I said to Lilm, viewing the holographic radar displayed on one of the bridge's view-panels. Plyra consisted of dozens of warehouses, shipyards, and factories clustered loosely around a hollow asteroid. In addition, the radar showed eight large CTC freighters and twice as many drifteer tramps, plus hundreds of smaller traders, ore barges, and mining craft orbiting the asteroid station, with scores of small boats scurrying between them.

'Far busier than I remember it ever being,' she replied, 'But that was a century ago.'

'Perhaps they're refugees of the drift war... Ah, dare we hope?' I added, as the speck of a small boat separated itself from the guard station and headed our way.

It was, indeed, the quarantine boat, which proceeded to make the usual robotic health inspection of crew and ship – a procedure critical for the small, enclosed world of a hollow asteroid. We passed and waited for the port official, which would be our first big test.

We're now the Starry Shore, 221 days out of Boscone according to our official log record, thanks to Rafe, Kie and Botts.

Starry shore is a poetic description for the edge of the nebula where you can see the stars of the rest of the universe. Molaye wasn't fond of the name. 'We'll be known as the Sorry Sore you just wait and see,' she protested. She wanted something like the Dragon's Bane or some such thing. I told her we weren't drift pirates, or at least not yet.

We concocted a story to go with the altered log, which we rehearsed over and over these last four and half months so it seemed more real than our true story. We'd new names as well. Each different, but to avoid confusion, each could be shortened to our familiar ones. I was Nives Wilcrofter, shortened to "Cap'n Wil". (Molaye wanted me to get Pax into my name, but I had to draw a line somewhere or she'd be running this ship, so I borrowed ol'Cap'n Crofter's name just to be defiant.) She's now Bry M'Ley. Rafe is Ralf Hugou, Ralf being pronounced Rafe, Kie is Kylan Balino, Illy is now known as Illan Lantra Myes is now Haz Mytin, Riv is Drimoch Riven, Lilm is Leelem Cardim, Lili is Lila Tan, and the Drays are now Barjour and Saemin Astry. Astro is Astro, Orbit is Orbit, and Ginger is still known as that Neb-blasted cat. I'll continue to use the old names and spelling, except in dialog, to indicate our new status.

Plyra is a drift trade center on the edge of the Inner Drift and the Azar Rift. The Azar Rift is the main space lane between the two stars, Aticor and Amdia. The Rift is a long, narrow gap of clear space between the Myzar Drift and Inner Drifts, that allows ships to travel at interstellar speeds. Plyra was our first port of call because Rafe and Kie needed to establish our new identity prior to our arrival in the Unity. That required a call on a drift station important enough to be in radio contact with the Unity so he could contact... Well, he was rather vague about that.

'You don't want to know, Willy. The less you know, the less the Guard or Guild mind probes will tell'em,' he said with a wink.

Yes, I decided, I didn't want to know. All I needed to know was that they'd need several days and a small fortune for radio packets to get the job done.

Lilm, who had sailed on ships calling on Plyra in her youth, suggested it, since it offered both the necessary radio access and possibility of picking up a cargo for Baidora in the Amdia system. That was a big draw for me. I'd rather not return to the Unity, cap in hand, as an out of work tramp.

Since we'd be well within St Bleyth's operating sphere, erasing every possible link to the late Lost Star was an absolute priority. As it turned out, our first, and possibly best, line of defense was arriving at Plyra Station 30 to 40 days before any ship could have been expected to arrive from Despar.

'I believe I can minimize the risk of discovery,' Botts said during our first meeting after our escape.

'How?' I asked, turning to it, its eyes glowing softy in the dark.

'We still have an operational drone. Working with plans I have in memory, we can print out and install a specialized class 5 AI chip in the drone. This will give the drone AI power to analyze its sensor data and directly alter the ship's course rather than merely relaying that information back to the ship for the pilot to act on. It saves seconds and increases our safety margin – which translates into increased potential velocity. And if you're willing to trust me to pilot, we can run one third faster than any human piloted ship. I would suggest that if we arrive far sooner than seemingly possible, our enemies would not even consider the possibility that we might be the Lost Star.'

'And how sanguine are you about that estimation?' I asked, warily.

Its eyes brightened. 'Oh, I'm very sanguine. It was the common operating procedure in the old days. I always had class 5 drones ahead when I sailed the Viseor Entrada.'

'Right. And, just so I'm clear on this, a class 5 AI is also illegal.'

'In the Unity, yes, Captain. However, we can switch back to its standard AI chip near the end passage, if you're uncomfortable with it.'

'And I gather, you're proposing to pilot the ship the entire passage?'

'Yes. That is well within my operational parameters. Indeed, it is my prime function. I hope you will excuse me for saying this, but as long as I'm a member of your crew, I can manage the bridge functions unsupervised. Maintaining engines and ship systems still require my shipmate's active participation since your service bots are not of sufficient quality to do the work, but acting as sole pilot and lookout for the entire passage is what I was designed to do.'

'Well, I'm in no position to call you a liar,' I admitted. 'And, I guess, we've plenty of work to do to keep the rest of us from getting bored,' I added, remembering all those amber lights.

So we made a 131-day passage from the Despar Reef, likely the fastest passage up the Azar Rift in the last 11,000 years since it was accomplished by using an illegal class 5 drone and a more illegal class 8 pilot, full fuel tanks and no cargo. Of course our log showed something quite different – a 221-day passage from Boscone – part of our plan to distance the Starry Shore from the Lost Star in every way possible.

As I've said before, we're a pretty nondescript cargo ship – thousands in its class operate in the Nebula and unless you're a spaceer who's familiar enough with a particular ship to recognize its auxiliary features – its boats or its markings or its collection of dents and scars, they all look much alike. Our passage through the reef had sanded off the last of our rusty red hull coating, and had added scores of new scars and dents, erasing the old ones in the process, hopefully making it impossible to recognize her, even with detailed photos.

Our first priority was fixing the heat exchanger before the long acceleration, and then in mid-passage, we spent a month in our heavy duty space suits working on the hull, repairing the cargo hatch, constructing and attaching replicas of the balancing engine cowlings that had been destroyed, so we would at least appear to be undamaged and, thus, unlikely to have sailed through the Despar Reef. We also spent considerable time pounding out the last major scars from the Lost Star era in the hope of fooling even the Patrol's identifying algorithms.

Rafe, Kie and Botts crafted a new log, a new history, and then shoved the real one into yet another data black hole. Botts, being a machine itself, made the job far easier and far more thorough than even Rafe could've done alone. The new log was a scrambled history of the Lost Star and a short nondescript account of a voyage from Azminn to Aticor, after which there was one voyage to Boscone, escaping the reef just ahead of Despar's first attack and then a long passage up the Azar Rift in search of less dangerous trading conditions. A bland story, but close enough to reality that I hoped everyone could keep it straight, even when not strictly sober.

Still, I fretted and paced as I waited for the port official to arrive, which she did, several hours after the quarantine boat.

I met her on the landing stage with Molaye, Astro and Orbit.

Welcome aboard,' I said walking forward, as she swung out of the airlock at the end of gangplank.

'Thank you, Captain. Sorry to keep you waiting. We're rather shorthanded these days,' she said, shaking my hand while Molaye kept the hounds in check. 'Batta Ty,' she added.

'No matter. I'm Nives Wilcrofter, my first mate, Bry M'Ley, and the hounds, Astro and Orbit. Sorry, they insist on greeting all our guests,' I said, adding, 'My first time here, but my chief engineer tells me she's never seen it so busy. Refugees like ourselves from the troubles down Despar and Boscone way?'

''Some. But most are here for our Founding Festival. Everyone from every rock within five aus visits Plyra during the festival. It's a two-week party and we're only two days into it. Hope you're not in a hurry since not much gets done during the festival,' she said as we drifted up the access well to the ship's office.

'Actually that sounds rather inviting. We can use a bit of a party – it's been a long, dreary passage, and I don't suppose a few days more will make any difference in how my owner feels...'

'I gather from your initial report you've sailed from Boscone.'

'Aye. We originally hail from Azminn, but the trade slump sent us to Aticor and the drifts,' I said, 'It's been an experience. I'll have some tales to tell in my old age, if I reach that port.'

'I see you arrived hollow,' she said as I showed her into the ship's office.

'Yes. Except for a quarter box of trade goods. Cha or something stronger?' I asked.

'Cha will be welcomed, I am on duty,' she replied.

'Right. It's been a long and quite unprofitable voyage, I'm afraid. I'm not looking forward to hearing from my owners,' I said, as I went about fixing two mugs of cha.

'I gather you ran into trouble down Boscone way.'

'Aye, though I've been catching up with the news since we arrived, so I guess I shouldn't complain too much. We must've got out before the real fighting started. Still, it's a big change from circling Azminn twice a year. We never had to run from privateers in the Azminn trade.'

'I can imagine,' she prompted. 'Welcome to the drifts.'

'Ah, the drifts, they're even more... Well interesting than I'd been lead to expect,' I said and launched our new history. 'We're a Calissant owned tramp, you see. And rather than lay us up, our owner sent us to the Aticor system to look for work. There, we were leased to a LaTrina ship operator, Dyzran Tan & Co. and dispatched to the Boscone Reef with a mixed cargo.

'Arriving in the Reef, we had a radio packet waiting for us, ordering us to off load and get clear without delay. It seems Tan had gotten word of the trouble brewing and wanted us clear of Boscone without waiting for a cargo. So we offloaded our cargo, and sailed. On clearing the reef, we crossed orbits with two Despar commandeered drifteer tramps turned privateer. They ordered us to surrender. I declined, since I felt that I could outrun them, and did, but it left us heading away from Aticor. The chase used more fuel than I had budgeted, so I hadn't enough left to make the course correction needed to make LaTrina. So, with the whole of the Despar-Boscone drifts likely caught up in the conflict, I decided to sail for Plyra instead. We were hailed by a couple of other privateers as we made our way through Despar claimed space, but we had enough velocity to ignore them and make a long, uneventful passage up the rift.

'I've not been captain long, but long enough to know that my survival will not be welcomed news on LaTrina. We'll have been missing for almost half a year, so I wouldn't be surprised if we're already owned by the insurance company. It might help if you could tell me that your warehouses are bulging with boxes for the Amdia system.'

'I won't say they're bulging, but we've seen a jump of boxes coming our way because of the Despar war, so you may be in luck. But don't expect to get any on board until after the festival ends.'

'A prospect for cargo and a two-week holiday – I don't think I'll complain. I'll leave that to my owners.'

We talked some more about trade and Plyra and the festival, before we got down to work. We went over the rules and customs of Plyra and were assigned a buoy after I'd paid our harbor fee.

An hour later we saw the port official off and even as we edged our way to our assigned buoy in the busy space around Plyra, Rafe, Kie and Botts were engaging a private com channel to send the encoded radio packets needed to establish our new identity. Plus, they set up a shadow cyber-bot owner on LaTrina to give the impression that we were in communication with our fictional charter party should anyone doubt our story and have the ability to snoop.

02

Molaye swung into my office. 'Ready, Captain?'

I looked up. My tall, willowy first mate, dressed in a form fitting black uniform with a short jacket with her big pirate piece darter on her hip, stood in the doorway grinning.

Though Molaye had been first mate for a little over four months, she was already looking the part. Not in any obvious way. The ship's wheel symbol on the badge on her cap had a circle around it, indicating a chief mate, but it was more in attitude. She was more grown up and more unguarded in her rather cocky air of competence.

The first mate's job aboard ship is basically every job aboard ship. Not that they have to do every job, they just have to know what's to be done and see that it is. Aboard the Starry Shore it's a pretty cushy job, as I well know, since everyone does their job properly without being pushed. Still, one has to know every job to know that. Molaye tackles any task competitively – with her full attention and abundant energy – and mastered the mate's shipboard position with ease. Shore business on Plyra would be her first lessons in the other half of the position's duties.

In addition to mastering the first mate's job, she also mastered the pirate piece on her hip as well. Rafe, in his distant youth, seems to have been a bit more dashing than he is these days and is still an old hand with darters. Under his tutelage, Molaye had, with constant practice in no. 4 hold, become competent enough, that, in Rafe's opinion, she could wear it downside. Openly wearing a darter spoke to drifters in a way that tended to invite an exchange of (mostly) non-lethal darts. You needed be very good to wear one if you didn't like waking up with pounding headaches. She likely was good enough, but I was having none of that today.

'Lose the pirate piece, First,' I said.

Her eyes narrowed, ever so slightly, and she stood a little straighter. 'Why? Rafe says I'm good enough.'

I could've gone on about just following my Neb-blasted orders, but she knows that. So I said, 'Because we're going out on ship's business and we're a mild mannered, Unity Standard, Neb-blasted Guild certified tramp freighter, down on its luck, cap in hand, seeking cargo, any cargo – not some drifteer pirate on a holiday. That's why. It's all about image.'

'But we're still in the drifts. Everyone carries a darter.'

'Carry your little darter, if you can find a pocket were it won't show and can still get at it,' I said, twirling my finger and pointing to the door.

Her eyes narrowed a little further, but she turned around and slowly headed for the door. At the door she paused, and turning towards me with a bright smile, said, 'Sorry, Wil. I wasn't thinking.' before dashing out to collect her other darter.

That's my First. A rather unnervingly quick learner.

Molaye piloted us – Riv, Lilm, Myes, Bar, Say and myself – across the busy near space to the bottle blown asteroid of Plyra. Plyra is a hollow, 5x15 kilometers cylindrical asteroid formed by being completely melted and then, with carefully designed explosive charges, blown and rotated to form a hollow cylinder. Its outer surface was largely free of buildings since it rotates to create a centrifugal pseudo gravity for its interior inhabitants.

Plyra's boat harbor is an off-shore, spider-like space station whose long legs are lined with docking airlocks for small boats. Molaye carefully maneuvered the gig through the press of boats to our assigned lock amongst the many legs, and aligning our hatch to the airlock, gently nudged us in.

I turned to everyone before I cracked open the hatch, though I looked straight at Molaye. 'Right. Are we in character?'

She smiled. 'Oh, yes, Captain Wilcrofter. You're just a poor Captain Crofter sort of character who's had your fill of the lawless drifts and desperately wants to get back to the safety and routine of the Unity's planetary trade.'

I'd settle for that. 'Yes, I've my character down pat. But do you know yours?'

'I'm a bright, though inexperienced first mate, who finds the drifts rather exciting...' she replied brightly.

'We're not really acting, are we?'

Her smile widened. 'No.'

'Right. The rest of you, look around, get a feel for things, but remember – I'm now looking at you Riv – this is just a scouting expedition, not shore leave.'

'Aye, skipper. Scouting it is. We'll have a full report on all the dives by the time you're ready to lift.'

A quick jump via a shuttle pod took us across to the entry lock, located at the center of the asteroid's nearest end. We felt the shuttle skid a little as it touched down the rotating surface, which created the asteroid's .2 gee gravity.

A lift carried us down to the Promenade, a kilometer-wide park that runs along the top of a large metro complex. Plyra was like a moon crater community – hot and lushly green, until you looked up to find yourself looking down on the promenade and out over the whole interior as it wrapped around the inside of the asteroid. A bit disconcerting. The avenues under the wide spreading trees were crowded – youths lopping along, kids hopping about, their parents strolling sedately along, everyone stopping in small crowds at gaily decorated booths, temporary food carts, cafes, and entertainments. It all seemed all very civilized and carefree. No doubt wilder celebrations could be found elsewhere, if you cared to look. Or you could just follow Riv, who'd find 'em without a chart.

Plyra had two cities, one at each end; Metro and Resi. Metro was the more commercial one, similar in many ways to the massive reef of buildings that form the crater rim between CraterPort and CraterCity on Lontria. It rose in terraces to the kilometer-wide promenade and circled the inner circumference of the asteroid as one massive building riddled with long multi-story malls and lush atriums.

We strolled out to the edge of the Promenade and looked out over the ten kilometers of farmland, parks, and ponds that wrapped around the asteroid's interior surface, lit by four large, bright, plasma globes set in the cross-hairs of four support columns. The greenness of the Plyra was, like the crater communities, designed not only to feed the inhabitants, but to keep the atmosphere as passively fresh as possible. At the far end we could see Resi, Plyra's residential city.

Since this was a scouting expedition, I was allowing only four hours to look around, so we took an express lift down to the spaceers' row section of the Metro – on the 741st level. (They counted them down from the Promenade.) It was a deep, rather low, dim-lit section of the city, half a dozen blocks long. The few cross streets leading to the green interior bought in a little light from the distant interior, but for the most part spaceer's row was just a two story, 15-meter-wide corridor illuminated by gaudy signs, with the business offices on either end, hardly lit at all. All the offices were dark and closed on account of the festival.

Molaye and I pushed on to find the Master's Club, which was located amongst the shipping offices rather than the spaceers' row proper. It was crowded with owners, agents, captains and mates and reminded me of the Tenth Star on Calissant. Captain Miccall used to take me around to the Tenth Star Tavern, just off Star Gate Boulevard – though only after I became his first mate. Anyone could – in theory – wander into the Tenth Star, but unless they had a star, or a wheel with a circle on their cap badge (and the first mates were only tolerated when accompanied by their captains) I doubt many stayed for a second drink. The dark glares would've driven even the stoutest-hearted drinkers to more friendly environs. For, you see the Tenth Star operated as the private club of the Calissant tramp ship owners, the place where they spent their days doing business over drinks – which often amounted to stabbing each other in the back at every opportunity with greatest affability.

Still the festival air had infused the Master's Club. We found a slot at the bar, and within minutes Molaye had struck up a conversation with the CTC ship captain next to her and we jumped into the flow of shipping and trade gossip intermixed with spaceer reminiscence, factual and fictional. Molaye and I were soon spinning the yarns of our close call with Despar privateers and our hard luck with our distant owners with other captains, owners and agents. They said I was lucky to escape Boscone even hollow, for if we had surrendered, we would've ended up pressed into service as a Despar privateer, or dead. They held out hope for a decent cargo to Baidora, the main drift-trade world in the Amdia system – but only after the festival was over. All in all, things looked hopeful. Assuming, of course, St Bleyth wasn't on to us.

I'd be giving the wrong impression if I neglected to mention St Bleyth. They may not be omnipresent, but I was certain they had agents on Plyra, since it was a major distribution point for the drifts. How had they react? They had paid a steep price in lives and equipment trying to kill Min and myself. Would they decide to cut their losses and write us off, or would they double down and expend even more resources to make certain we were dead? Would they monitor Min & Co and our families for radio packets to see if we contacted them? Would they have all their agents and offices investigating every ship and crew of our general description? While it would be very hard to identify us as the former Lost Star, if they were searching down to individual crew members, our new names alone wouldn't disguise us.

I've grown a short beard which, I think, gives me a more rakish, drifteer air. (Molaye says I look like a young ol'Cap'n Crofter.) It might fool an agent, but not a security machine. So the question was, what sort of effort, if any, was St Bleyth making to discover our fate? Plyra was going to be a test of that question, since if they identified us, they probably could do something about it here. And if they did something, I could only hope they did it to me. It was an unavoidable risk that I'd have to live with.

03

'Hi Captain. I confirmed our participation in the Florka's Bonanza Cup Race,' said Molaye, looking into my office after returning from Plyra several days after our arrival.

'Huh? What?'

'Said of course we'd participate in the Bonanza Race. You know, the race where all the captains and their first mates race tri-bikes against each other. Remember? We received notice several days ago. Some of the captains at the club were wondering why we hadn't confirmed our entry, since it's only three days away. Told them you'd a lot on your mind, what with dealing with owners who had hoped we were lost and all. Probably just forgot to reply.'

I had, indeed, conveniently managed to forget about it. 'And you said, yes?'

'Of course. It's an ancient tradition for every ship, large and small to enter. Every other ship, even the CTC liners have entered. It'd look bad if we didn't. So of course I apologized and signed us up.'

'Was your com link out of order, or didn't you think I needed to be consulted?' I asked, deciding to cut to the heart of the matter.

She pantomimed thinking about it for a moment and then said, 'The latter. It's a local tradition and everyone expected us to participate. I knew you'd not want to appear unsocial or unsporting in front of them, especially with all those shipping agents with boxes for Baidora. Don't want to give anyone the impression we're not game. And I could hardly give some lame excuse about having to consult you when it's a given that we'd enter, just like everyone else. Honor of the ship and all that.'

'Did you happen to mention that you're a semi-professional moon buggy racer, junior moon buggy champion, rocket sled racer, and who knows what else? It might not be fair for us to compete with a professional racer,' I said, half seriously, looking for a way to slide out since I was the other half of the team, and had no desire to race tri-bikes.

'Gosh Captain, you're right. Didn't occur to me at the time. But then, I've never raced tri-bikes. Complete amateur in that sport. I'm sure it's ethical. Anyway it's too late to back out now. And since you've brought it up, Riv asked me to remind you that, ethical or not, it's probably best that you didn't say anything about my racing experience. You'd not want the other captains getting mad at you...'

'No... of course not,' I sighed. 'I don't suppose I have any say in this, do I?' I asked with hard look which only made her smile wider.

'Of course you do. I just cut to the chase and said Yes, as you would've. Eventually,' she explained patiently. 'Besides, we'll show these drifteers and CTC cargo liner poshes what tramp ship captains and mates are made out of!'

'Is there any chance that we might really show them what we're made of? I seem to recall moon buggy racing was pretty cut-throat.'

'Pfff! They're just the usual two seat tadpole bikes you see on any moon. A few bumps and bruises, maybe a broken bone if you land wrong. Nothing to worry about. I had a chance to race them when I was 7, but they're too slow and boring to bother with.'

The two and four seat tri-bikes are a popular form of transportation in low gee moon societies. It has a T frame with two steerable wheels in front and the seats slung on either side stem of the T and the trailing rear wheel. Both seats have pedals driving the forward wheels. The starboard seat has a steering wheel, gearshifts, and brakes. The port seat occupant just pedals. It has two light roll bars and fenders on each side that offer some slight protection if one tipped over.

The race course was a trail snaking through a hilly, wooded section of the central park that wraps around the interior, midway between the two cities. The trail isn't much wider than two bikes and is paved with a soft mesh giving it something like a dirt feeling. It was built for thrills, with lots of humps and bumps to set you soaring in the light gravity. We spent an hour getting to know it the following day. Between the lightly built tri-bikes and the light gravity, we could clip along, even up hills – for about ten minutes. After that my legs started to ache and I was drawing deep breaths, silently cursing Florka and his Bonanza Cup.

There were plenty of captains and mates out for a spin as well, so we were quickly schooled in how the race is run – very much in the spirit of those moon buggy races on Lontria. Which is to say, with good-natured mayhem. If there are any rules at all, they ended just after outlawing weapons and outright murder.

Molaye was, of course, in command of the tri-bike. Our hour of practice provided all the insight she needed to chart our course for the race. All that remained was to get in shape. We had to last the four races if we wanted to win and Molaye – surprise – wanted to win. She insisted on a rigorous course of training on the ship's recumbent bikes for stamina and taking extra electro-simulant treatments to strengthen our leg muscles. I stopped in at the medic bay after each session to dull the aches.

On race day we were not in the first several heats, so we had a chance to watch the races. There were twelve tri-bikes in each heat and within seconds of the start, several were flying through the air. The race consisted of two laps, with the first six advancing to the next round.

I was standing about, captain-like, hands in my jacket pockets, watching Molaye go over our bike, making sure it had been properly attended to after the last race, when Captain Jyn Storie of the Astro Prince, one of the CTC ships, wandered over.

'Have your race charted, Wil?'

'Aye. Close my eyes and pedal like the blazes. I'm signed on as chief engineer for this cruise. Or rather, the engine. My First will pilot us.'

She gave me a searching look, 'Word has it you only practiced once. You don't seem too concerned. You're either pretty cocky, or you don't care.'

'Well, I'm pretty indifferent, and I doubt practice will matter much.' I replied with a shrug. 'We entered only because my First said it was expected – most likely to serve as a target, seeing how the race is run. Don't need practice for that. My strategy would be to get banged up quickly and then safely trail the pack. However, I doubt M'Ley here will let me chart that course.'

'I should hope not! We're Guild ships and we've Guild honor to uphold. You'll not let these drifteers intimidate you, will you?' she said, half seriously.

'Well, yes, maybe. I've been in the drifts long enough to discover their taste for feuds. I'm not anxious to ruffle drifteer feathers.'

'Well, if you don't they'll take merciless advantage of you. Besides, this is all clean fun. Any feud stays on the course, to be settled next year or the year after that...'

'Neb forbid! I'm hoping this is a one-off appearance.'

Captain Storie shook her head, 'You need some more of that Unity gloss rubbed off you, Wil.'

'I've had enough rubbed off already,' I replied glumly. 'But like it or not, I'm certain to get a bit more rubbed off shortly.'

'Aye, you will,' she laughed. 'Just remember, the Guild sticks together in these races. That's expected. It's us against the drifteers.'

'Aye. Did you hear that M'Ley?' I asked turning to Molaye. 'Drive Captain Storie's bike off the cliff with the greatest reluctance.'

'Yes, Captain,' she replied brightly. 'I'll be ever so polite, and even call out Sorry! as they go over.'

Luckily, the warning horn sounded for our race, sending Storie back to her tri-bike with a rather insincere 'Good luck'. We donned our gear and climbed aboard.

The race started from the tri-bike lot, with the twelve bikes lined up in a row. The access drive to the track was only as wide as the track – two bikes wide, so there's an initial sorting right out of the starting gate.

'Hold back, a second,' muttered Molaye. 'Give everyone a chance to clear before we move.'

'Ah, good. Taking my plan to heart. That's the spirit.'

'Oh, to some extent...' she replied with a cheery grin, as the flag went down.

We didn't move as the line surged ahead, aiming for the narrow access drive ahead. As soon as the bikes had cleared to starboard, Molaye said 'Now!' and we surged ahead, steering not for the pack at the access drive, but for the far corner of the lot.

'Off course!' I exclaimed, but she ignored me.

The shallow curb had us airborne for a bit, but we quickly crossed the grass median to strike the track, nosing our way into the thin line of bikes as they trickled out of the battle royal in the access drive.

'Was that allowed?' I asked, as we surged down the track.

'Nothing in the rules says you can't,' she replied as we bounded along the track in a thin cloud of dust raised through the mesh roadbed by the bikes ahead.

'The race has rules?' I gasped, pedaling away.

'Some. Save your breath. You're going to need it,' she replied tartly.

We found ourselves third or fourth – up with the leaders anyway. The pace was pretty easy – those behind the first six fought to improve their position, but the first six just kept their places – first or sixth didn't matter in this race. By the end of the first lap, the contenders had closed and were nipping at our heels, as Molaye wove along, taking our half of the track out of the middle to keep them at our heels.

The race heated up in the final lap as everyone started making their move. It got wild in the back half of the course, where the track snaked through wooded hills and rough ground. The surviving bikes had all closed into a tightly packed scrum, bumper to bumper, and as we soared off of the series of steep bumps to land five, ten meters down course. The drivers then began using their bikes as weapons, attempting to hit their rivals in order to send them soaring off the track and into the trees, bushes, or ravines – whatever happened to be handy. Everyone tried to take their half of the trail out of the middle, weaving back and forth. In order to get by them, you either had to bump them off or steer around them whenever it was free of the trees, high banks and steep ravines. Ideally, you'd then bump'em off the track when you came back in again. The old hands knew the course blindfolded – just where you could go off the track to get by a competitor, and they turned those stretches into a wild melee of flying bikes.

My share of the race involved holding tight to the bar in front of me, shifting this way and that to keep us upright, and doing my share of the pedaling. Molaye steered, braked and played the game. When you weren't soaring over the bumps big and small, the other bikes were knocking you about so much that I'd have been tossed clear if it wasn't for the seat belt. As for the roll bars and bumpers – they were simply weapons to brush you aside, and when they didn't work, elbows and hands were used to muscle you out of the way, or to grab your steering wheel or arm to send you into the ditch, or a tree. Short of murder, everything was allowed. Which was all viewed with wild abandon by the spectators – spaceers and natives alike – who lined the track beyond the rope barriers as it wove through the forested park, cheering and jeering the racers as they passed. A larger crowd had gathered in the open picnic areas near the start/finish line who watched the race on large screens. Everyone gambled on every heat, but I was told the final was heavily wagered – since many of the likely contestants were regulars whose form was known enough for odds to be set.

One good thing was that the pace of the race was pretty mellow – more of a battle royal than a race. We kept pace, weaving back and forth to defend our position, but made no effort to advance, since we were in the first six. Molaye was playing her old game of keeping expectations low. We were in fourth place at the start of the final lap, and fought off all but one contender – Captain Storie's bike – who managed to slip by us towards the end of the hill section, slamming into us with a desperate lunge as we crested a small bump. We landed off the track, but luckily avoided the trees, and Molaye had us back on the track before another bike could get by, keeping us in fifth place. So much for Guild solidarity. She allowed one final bike to pass us on the final straight, as we raced flat out, but not, I think, at the optimal gearing, so it looked like we were going at our max, but weren't. We finished sixth – just enough to continue on towards the championship race. Captain Storie finished fourth.

There were ten heats in the initial round, the hundred and twenty teams narrowed to sixty, and then pared down to thirty in the second set, which we also survived – just hanging on in the final stretch to get sixth place again, and we weren't holding back on that one. There was nothing to hold back, by then. The semi-final involved fifteen tads instead of twelve, of which only the top six would advance to the finals, which, in a way was easier since the pack was bigger and the fighting more intense – behind us, as we still took the short cut at the start of the race, though now we weren't alone in doing so. Molaye had taught them a new trick – the ones that were paying attention, anyway. Once again, we managed to finish sixth.

A very dusty and disheveled Captain Storie also made the final – I'm sure I looked just as disheveled or worse. We were the only two Guild ships left in competition.

'Your run of luck runs out, this race, Wil,' she said. 'Most of the regulars made it, so you'll be lucky to finish.'

'Then it's a good thing we're in this together. Guild honor and all.'

'It's an honor to have made the final,' she replied, grimly. 'Just stay out of my way.'

'Of course,' I replied, under the watchful eye of Molaye, guarding the sporting interest of our mates.

We started at the farthest end of the line, and as the flag dropped, we shot straight ahead, over the curb and on to the track – but then, so did everyone else, so we ended up in eleventh place, which is where we stayed until half way around the first lap, when the pack ahead started fighting it out in earnest. We kept out of that brawl. The final was a grueling three lap race, so we had more time to move up, past the bikes in the ravines, and took it. The team following us, also adopted this strategy, so we weren't pressed, and by the time we emerged onto the long straight speedway that ended the first lap, we'd passed two bikes, one in a ditch the other deep in the brush, so we ended the first lap in ninth place. During the second lap, we carefully began to move up. Molaye deftly put a bike in a ravine with a sharp bump and we passed another bike, riding on an almost vertical steep bank, (it seemed, anyway). She didn't knock them, instead, keeping them on the track to shield us (as Molaye explained later) from the five bikes that were now trailing us.

By the time we started the final lap, we were close behind the leading six. It'd be a dog fight from here on in. I was little more than a thoughtless motor running on pure adrenaline, but Molaye was keenly in the game, so we would surge ahead when Molaye saw an opening, using her extensive moon-buggy racing skills to hit the bike at just the right moment, sending them flying in the light gravity towards the woods or ravines. 'Now!' she'd pant and I'd put what little reserve I had into pedaling – clash, bang, an elbow to the shoulder and the opposing tri-bike would be spinning behind us, half the time to be hit again by a following pack.

As the end loomed, we were in fifth place, with the four leading bikes weaving back and forth, nose to tail, looking for an opening, but saving what extra oomph they had for the final straightaway where there'd be no time for a comeback. We were tapping the fourth bike's bumper looking for an angle as we careened down the final hill. The bike's pilot, Captain Storie, glanced back to see who was making trouble. I grinned, or at least grimaced.

Storie, like all the drivers, took up half of the trail, weaving to try to prevent a competitor from slipping around by going off the trail, especially when there wasn't a steep hill, a sharp ravine, or trees close alongside the trail, which wasn't often. The last straightaway was open on both sides, so the lead bikes could race side-by-side, though the advantage would be to the bikes on the trail rather than in the surrounding grass, which is why the leaders were content to just keep on each others' tail until that final sprint. But Molaye wasn't.

We made our first move at the second to the last turn, which briefly allowed a bike to leave the track entirely to get around a bike before it closed in again before the final bend and open straightaway. Molaye feinted a dash to the inside of Storie's bike, and when Storie weaved inside to block us, we braked briefly and shot alongside on the outside. We were wheel to wheel for a second as the trees loomed, but managed to bull our way back onto the track and slip our two forward wheels ahead of theirs. Storie and I were shoulder to shoulder and working our elbows to try to push each other off, until we reached the straightaway, when Molaye pulled out the last of her reserve energy and the sprint began with a gasped 'All out Captain!'

She steered us onto the grass and flew, as the three other leaders spread out in the final sprint. We had a little lead over Storie next to us, so Molaye began to edge in to cut her off, forcing her to edge in as well. We were ahead of her for fourth place, but that wasn't enough for Molaye, since the three leading bikes were only a nose ahead. Ten meters before the finish line, she pulled her old moon buggy trick, turning sharply into the leading bikes, locking wheels as every leading bike crunched together, the pack unable to edge away, which swung our edge of the pack just enough ahead to carry our starboard wheel over the finish line half a meter ahead of the tangled pack.

Judging from the loud remarks coming from the tangled pack, I was far from certain the rule against murder – if it existed at all – still applied. Molaye wasn't intimidated. She was delighted. She'd add the Florka Bonanza Cup to her collection. If we lived. Molaye, however, possessed a certain hard-edged jauntiness that gives everyone, including her captain, pause before crossing her. She ignored the simmering hostility and, with her cheerful good spirits and tales of her moon buggy racing exploits, brought them around to accepting their defeat – at the hands of a pro. This proved to be enough of a balm for their bruised egos that they were standing her celebratory drinks after the award ceremony. I found, however, that reminding Storie that our victory was a Guild triumph, did nothing to brighten her mood.

'Next time, Wilcrofter, it'll be in the ravine at my first opportunity,' she said grimly. 'Guild solidarity be damned.'

'There won't be a next time, Jyn, if I can help it. I'm keeping the festival dates on my calendar, just to be certain.'

We departed Plyra six days after the end of Founder's Festival with 77 containers, bound for Baidora. We'd sold half of our remaining trade goods at a handsome profit and there'd been no sign of St Bleyth, so I was feeling pretty braced – once we cleared Plyra without an Order frigate on our tail. Bound for the Unity, at last!

Riv, Lilm, Myes and Botts finished constructing Botts II during the passage. It was interesting to note how easily Botts now fits into our little society. If it's not sentient, it certainly has a first class pseudo-sentient interface, since it acts like and is accepted as just another shipmate. It certainly helped that it was always lending a hand to everyone in their tasks even when it was conning the ship. Plus, it can converse with you on any subject and has an endless supply of almost believable yarns from its spacefaring days of old. We certainly didn't need new crew members, with it on board, but if I wanted to continue operating as a Guild ship, I'd have to add at least two to meet Guild requirements. Finding the right two was going to be a challenge.

### Chapter 64 Baidora and the Drifts

01

We made Baidora in 41 days signaling our arrival while passing the planetary guard station and slipping into our assigned orbit to await the quarantine and trade control inspectors.

Baidora is a large, 1.27g planet, with three large moons. Since heavy industry in the Unity is confined to moons, Baidora's three moon system made it an important center of heavy manufacturing for the whole of the Amdia system. Shipyards, foundries, factories, and large industrial printing facilities populate the craters of Baidora's three moons. And because Baidora was an over-standard gravity world, like Sanre-tay, much of its interplanetary trade and spaceers' row establishments are found under the domes of Muirnon, its premier moon.

Unlike trade within the Unity, trade between the Unity and drift trade is not highly regulated since it is so diffuse and the raw materials are necessary to the Unity. Only after goods or raw materials are imported, do they become regulated. The Azminn system is too remote from the drifts to have much drift trade, but the Amdia lies within the Myzar Drift and so has a very substantial drift trade. Ores, rare earths and elements, D-matter parts and machine goods manufactured by the sentient machines in the Inner Drift arrive daily in Baidora orbit. Agricultural products and finished consumer goods are exported to dozens of transfer stations like Plyra, and from there, distributed far and wide in the teeming drifts via drifteer tramps and traders. Though most of the planets of the Amdia system conduct some direct trade with the drifts, Baidora conducts at least a third of the system's trade, making it a very busy port. And, as usual, a small, nondescript tramp, such as ourselves, has to wait the better part of a day before the trade control boat arrives.

Though I had a great deal of confidence in Rafe's expertise, I must confess I paced the bridge as I waited for the trade control officials. Being somewhat of a coward, and standing on my dignity as captain, I let Molaye meet the officials at the gangplank when they did arrive and waited for them outside the ship's office. I was momentarily startled to see a three-person Patrol crew follow the trade inspectors up the access shaft until I recalled Tenry once saying part of his duty was to "babysit" trade control officials during their inspection of ships from the drifts, which we were, Guild or not, so I was able to relax enough to draw a breath.

I welcomed them aboard, gave the Patrol leave to search where they cared to and took the lead trade official up to the cargo control tower to oversee the inspection of our cargo. The rest of his crew made the usual inspection of our Guild trade goods while the Patrol officers did a very sketchy search of the ship. The newly finished Botts II passed inspection without comment. Two hours later, they left without ever hinting that that we weren't what we claimed to be – the Starry Shore out of Plyra via Boscone and LaTrina. I dared to let a little dart of sunny optimism into my thoughts as their boat slipped away. We were home in the Unity. It felt good.

Several hours later, the first of the lighters arrived to collect their containers and by the end of our second day in Baidora orbit, we were free to begin the next phase of the Starry Shore's new career.

02

We spent 19 days in Baidora orbit. Six of them having the two damaged balancing engines replaced, and replacing all of the balancing engine cowlings, since we could not find matching ones in the savage yards. I wanted my ship to look respectable, not like a patched-up, down-in-the-heels tramp. This was only the start – the hull need a new protective coat, and though we've grown accustomed to the cut down engine, and its quirks, I wanted that restored as well – but I was reluctant to deplete our account until I had a better idea of our prospects, so I put both of those projects off.

At Botts' suggestion we replaced the two drones we lost with second hand drift drones – larger, longer ranged, and built with reinforced bows to better handle the deep drift conditions. They also came equipped with mountings to carry a dozen small anti-meteor missiles. It assured me that once a class 5 AI was installed, the drones could be deployed to launch their anti-meteor missiles at any would-be-pirate, giving us multiple angles of attack, which sounded well worth the extra credits.

Molaye, Illy, and I spent our days on Muirnon, calling on the offices of shipbrokers to introduce ourselves and learn about the local cargo patterns and prospects. It was clear from the beginning that we'd be returning to the drifts. Most of the interplanetary trade is carried on freight liners rather than tramps – Baidora being the operations center for many large Charter Trading Companies who either used their own ships, or those of the big freight liners. We'd have to settle for the crumbs off their table – and fight for them with the drifteer tramps. However, as a Guild ship we had certain advantages – cargoes that missed their scheduled ships or boxes that were sent along for the first available Guild ship would fall into our laps and they were plentiful enough to eke out a bare living, which was enough for me. I just wanted to establish a reliable reputation that I could use in time to break into the interplanetary trade once more.

With our refit completed, I set a sailing date and Molaye, Illy and I began to round up a cargo. Our efforts netted 34 regular containers and three over-sized, bulk grain containers for our first run into the drifts. We'd chosen destinations that would take us up the drift and further away from Despar. We'd make a sliver of a profit, if everything went well, even if we picked up nothing on the way back. But that was to be expected at this stage. We could afford slivers of profit for some time to come.

As a long time understudy of Captain Miccall and Illy, I've become something of an old hand in dealing with brokers and shippers, but Molaye, with her cheerful enthusiasm and her ability to get an intuitive read on people, quickly became a favorite with the shipbrokers. And, since Rafe isn't as set up in the Amdia system to track possible cargoes like he was in Azminn, having a first mate with Molaye's touch was a great plus. I've no doubt that she'll be a very young ship captain. The best I can do is to give her a long leash and let her learn as fast as she can.

Two days before sailing, Molaye, who was down on Muirnon making our final calls signaled, 'Good news Captain! I've lined up a last minute bonus-premium cargo. Pure profit!'

I tried to keep the What has she gotten us into now? thought out of my voice as I answered, 'Great, what did you find?'

'Subject to your approval, of course, I've got a container of sleepers. I just happened to be in the office when the signal came in, and decided to jump at the chance. The Numbia Mining ship Deepdrift Prince is running late and won't be able to deliver a relief crew to a refinery five days out of Creylin. I gather crews get grouchy and expensive when they're not relieved on time, so it's a high priority, high premium cargo. The fact that we can carry the container in our atmospheric hold, seals the deal as far as Numbia is concerned,' she said, grabbed a breath, and before I could object, hurried on, 'I know you don't like passengers, especially on our side of the bulkhead, but as you said, we're here to win friends, and Numbia is a friend worth having. Besides, they're all regular employees, so I didn't see any risks. All I need is your approval and they'll have the box here in 18 hours, and we can sail directly, since the last of our boxes are due in a few hours. So, should I give them the thumbs up?'

She'd given me enough time by rattling on, to see the advantages of her rather precipitous arrangement. Since Botts can monitor and control all aspects of the ship, I was far less concerned about possible pirates in with the passengers than I would've been without it.

'Excellent. Well done, First. Sign the documents.'

'Really?' She said, and I could picture her giving me a squinty-eyed look.

'Really. Then hop over to the Guild exchange and sign on two pilots. I'll leave the choices to you.'

'Right, Cap'n, I'm on it... And thanks,' she said and signed off.

I alerted the engineers that we might be sailing a few hours earlier than scheduled.

CTC ships and freight liners are cushy berths, and their first class spaceers usually have long careers serving on them, which meant we had slim pickings for our required pilots at the exchange. Molaye signed two with long, nondescript records of service aboard many ships, but lacked any Captains' comments. This generally implies that they do their jobs, but have other issues that keep them moving from ship to ship. Still, any planet in a quantum storm. Only one system tech is required, so I re-signed Kie on as an apprentice Environmental Engineer, to fill that post. We'd all been pitching in to fill in for Dyn, and I promised Kie that wouldn't change – his appointment was only for Guild requirements and until we could find some better quality spaceers than what was available on Baidora. Kie didn't kick. He'd take over the environmental system's management and we'd all continue to lend a hand in plumbing, electrical, and recycling maintenance.

We sailed less than two days later and made Refinery no. 177 (known locally as Hell's Sub-basement) 30 days later, delivering the relief crew on time. The refinery was a collection of flood light lit space stations and asteroid based facilities clustered around a vast free floating furnace. Small metallic asteroids pushed into its gaping maw to be melted, purified and then formed into ingots for transportation back to Baidora.

We spent less than a day at Hell's Sub-basement before sailing for Creylin.

03

We made orbit around Creylin Station five days later, and spent most of our first day discharging our cargo to the various consigned warehouses, leaving only two boxes to be off loaded.

'Lighter's on its way,' said Lili over the com link.

'Thanks,' I said and with a sigh, rose from my desk to head up to the cargo control tower. I still like handling cargo, but in this case, I'd little option since Molaye was away with the gig taking our two Baidora-hired pilots to Creylin. They'd decided not to stay aboard. A mutual decision. That meant we were at least one pilot short – assuming Illy would once again return to the pilot's chair – and the prospect of finding a Guild pilot, much less any better ones on Creylin was nil. My only option was to hire a drifteer pilot, either on a Guild waiver or as an apprentice.

I didn't – exactly – blame Molaye. All she did was see that they did their job, and I don't think she was too hardnosed about it. Just very persistent. Had it been me, I might've cut them enough slack to get through this voyage without having to resort to a drifteer pilot, but well, I wasn't the mate. Still, leaving their performance aside, neither were happy – they didn't like the food, the ship was too cold, and the crew unfriendly, and so on. Just about what you'd expect from their record. So perhaps it is all for the best. Captain Miccall made a point of hiring young spaceers or apprentices, like myself, when he needed to replace a crew member since young spaceers are usually more flexible and can adopt better to our ways. With no Guild Exchange on Creylin, I'd have to find my own pilot or pilots, and not knowing anyone here, or how reliable anyone was, it looked to be a problem.

'Greetings, Captain,' said Elana Colniz, the lighter pilot, as she gracefully swung her lighter into position over the open hatchway. 'Anovic's is open for deliveries, so I'm here to collect those last two boxes.'

'Hi, Elana. You're welcome to them,' I said, as I raised the cargo crane and called up the location of the two Anovic boxes.

We quickly transferred the two boxes to the lighter, in this case, little more than a pilot's pod, two wide spaced engines set in an open framework. The lighter carried a service-bot on board that could be used to attach several boxes together to make a train of containers, if needed.

'Well, that's it Captain, you're rid of me.'

'Thanks, Elana. It's been a pleasure. Ah, but before you go, perhaps you can do me a little favor,' I added.

'Of course, if I can,' she replied.

'I'm in need of a pilot or two. The ones I signed on in Baidora failed to mesh with the old crew. I'm looking for a young pilot who's flexible enough to fit in. We're not a horrible ship, just set in our ways making it sometimes hard for spaceers set in their ways to fit in. I'd be willing to offer a Guild apprenticeship to the right candidate which can lead to a Guild ticket in a year or two. Do you know of any young pilots who might be interested, or could direct me to someone who could help find some?'

'You're in luck, Captain! I know just the pilot you're looking for. A cousin of mine, who's in port at the moment. We were just talking about going off on our own, so I think he'd jump at the chance. You see, there's a drift tradition of leaving the nest when you're young to see something of the Neb before settling into the family's business. I like being a lighter jockey, but I don't want to do it for the next two hundred years. Anyway, his name is Dicier de'Vel, and his father, my Uncle Viner de'Vel, owns three drift traders. Dici grew up aboard the family's ships and has been piloting for nine years. He's now chief mate of one at 25. Even so, I'd think he'd jump at the chance to move to a bigger ship and a Guild ticket. I know he wants to see more of the Nebula than just rocks and drift stations.'

'He sounds perfect,' I replied. Could I be this lucky? 'How do I get in touch with him?'

'I'll tell Dici to get in contact you straight off. You'd like him. He's easy to get along with, and knows just about everything about ships and drifts, having lived aboard'em all his life.'

'Just what I'm looking for. Pass him the word and we'll have him aboard to have a look around. And if you can think of anyone else, let me know. I can get by with one, but if I could find two good candidates, so much the better.'

'I'll ping him directly, and, well, if I think of any other young pilots, I'll let you know,' she said.

I caught a little catch in her voice, and it struck me that perhaps...

'You wouldn't be interested in leaving the nest as a pilot as well, would you?' I asked on the spur of the moment.

'I'm not a space ship pilot.'

'Neither was I when I signed on. I was a rocket boat pilot and before that, as I mentioned yesterday, a lighter jockey. I've seen how you handle your lighter so I know you're a rocket pilot, which is all that's really required. You'd pick up handling a big ship easy enough. You'd be an apprentice for two years, but you'd be comfortable piloting the ship by the time we return to Baidora. Then it's just a matter of putting in your time and getting to know all the other ship-board jobs. Nothing to worry about – the old gang has been training young spaceers for decades. It's all rather fun, in fact.'

'Are you serious, Captain?'

'Aye. What do you say?'

'I... well, yes, if you're willing to make a pilot of me...'

'You'll make a fine pilot. And with your cousin on board, it'd be easier for both of you to leave the nest. But I'll say right up front, I'm hoping to get into the Amdia planetary trade. It may take a few years, but you'd best be prepared to leave the drifts behind for a while. I can't promise much excitement, but can promise Guild wages, a great crew, and a wide open future.'

'I'm sure we'd find the planets exciting enough – there's not a whole lot in the drifts to find exciting, or so Dici tells me. Creylin is dreary enough.'

'Right. See if Dici's interested, but I'll sign you on without him, so don't let that stop you. Either or both suits me fine. Ping me and we'll arrange a tour. Bring an appetite since I want you to sample our ship's cuisine. Our chefs are from Mycolmtre, in the Artinday system, and the food is not to everyone's tastes. It wasn't to our last two pilots' taste anyway. And you know how it is – little things add up when you're not happy. We'll see how it lifts from there.'

'Thanks, Captain. I don't think food will stand in the way. We've just about grown up on synth food and will welcome any change. I'm sure he'll jump at the chance, and if you're willing to train me, I'll do my best to make it worth your while...'

Illy, the hounds and I met them at the gangplank three hours later. Both were the low grav, lanky young people you'd expect from an asteroid colony. Both were just as nervous as they should've been. Both were friendly and outgoing and Dici clearly knew his way around a space ship, even if the ships he'd known were considerably smaller than the Starry Shore. Both made a good impression on everyone. Elana knew less about large ships – about as much as I did when Miccall signed me on – but I wasn't concerned. Like her cousin, she seemed a good fit with the crew, which was my main concern. This ship had secrets – from Botts to St Bleyth – and I wanted crew members that would bond with the ship and crew to keep those secrets, since you can't keep secrets on ships for long. Having not grown up Unity Standard, I hoped our secrets would pose no problems for them.

The only person I worried about was Molaye. I didn't quite know how protective she was of her position as my first protégé. But she was delighted with the prospect of having some more young people on board and took to Elana and Dici right from the start.

They left with everything pretty much agreed to. I told them to sleep on it and if they were comfortable, we'd sign them on the following day. The following day Elana's father, Delve Colniz, came on board to check things out.

'I apologize, Captain,' he said as I greeted him on the gangplank. 'They're old enough to make their own decisions. And leaving the family nest is something we all do when we're young. But usually it's with someone we know. So you see, I just wanted to look in so I could tell Dici's folks to rest easy, when their ship comes in...'

He spent an hour with us. We got along fine. Really, the Starry Shore is a cushy berth even with a hard-nosed first mate – so Elana and Dici signed on an hour after he left. We gave them two days to settle their affairs – I wasn't up against delivery times and, well, I wasn't concerned with profits as much I should be, so a few idle days was neither dust nor gas. It was worth taking advantage of our credit balance and the lack of oversight to put together a happy, reliable crew.

I signed both on as apprentices, handing Dici over to Illy to look after. Since he was an experienced pilot, all she'd have to do was break him in to our routine and then babysit him on the bridge. She could do her purser's work on the bridge as easily as in the ship's office. With his prior experience, he'd be able to get his ticket after a year's apprenticeship. I'd took on Elana since I had no assigned watches while Molaye, with her own watch and duties as first mate, had enough to do.

Dici shaved two days off our Dotage run by taking us on the drifteer's course through the Dortag reef. No point hiring local talent and not using it. He proved to be a thoroughly competent pilot who quickly came to terms with the much larger ship. Elana was another natural rocket pilot, and while it took her a while to get comfortable piloting a big ship – we'd only had three to four days under power at either end of our runs to get the feel of her – she took to piloting as readily as I had. Plus, her style was more like mine than Molaye's – making it much less nerve wracking to teach than Molaye had been.

04

I was standing next to Dici at the helm as he was setting the ship on a course through the twisting Missing Passage, outbound from the Dortag Reef.

'Shantien next. Ever been there?' I asked.

'Yes and no, Captain,' he replied with a grin.

'Yes and no?'

'We've called on Shantien often enough. Been there several dozen times, but well, you never actually get closer than 100,000 kilometers to it.'

'Rather reclusive?'

'Aye, and they have enemies,' he said with a grin. 'so they don't take chances. Their jump fighters come out of nowhere to check your identity. Scares the crap out of you, if you're not expecting it. Once they clear you, they send their lighters out to collect their boxes.'

Jump fighters.

'St Bleyth?'

'Ah, so you've heard of them...'

'Aye,' I admitted, with a sinking feeling. 'I've heard of them.'

'Well, Shantien is nothing too threatening. As far as I can make out, it's just a warehouse or some such thing. A modest hollow asteroid, from the sensor reading. I think they use it mostly as a receiving station for trade goods out of Amdia. They never ship anything out, just receive boxes. Must send them on in their own ships, but you'd not want to look too closely into that. The fighter pilots don't say much, but the lighter jockeys are friendly enough, though they don't talk about their monastery.'

'So they'll know you?'

'Aye. The Bird of Passage has made regular deliveries since I was on board. CTC and Guild ships don't care to call on Shantien, so their boxes are usually passed along to drifteer traders for delivery.'

'Ah, well, we're new and didn't know any better...'

He grinned. 'Don't worry, there's nothing to it. As I said, it's just a warehouse.'

Well, I did worry. But not too much.

Molaye didn't worry at all. 'If they didn't identify us on Plyra, I doubt they'd do it now,' adding, 'What better proof of our innocence than calling on one of their monasteries?'

'I suppose.'

'Dici and I will handle all the communications and cargo work. He knows them and you're an almighty captain, so that shouldn't raise any eyebrows.'

'I suppose.'

'And we have Botts,' she added.

'And we have Botts,' I admitted. 'Which is why my hair hasn't turned white yet.'

Molaye leaned back, looked at the grey hair over my ears and grinned, 'Right.'

I gave her a feeble grin right back.

We did have Botts. It had proven its worth in the Despar Reef and I knew that a jump fighter's range would limit their chances, so I figured we had a good chance of escaping even if St Bleyth made our true identity. The real Botts was out and about these days, keeping itself slightly more subdued around our new crew members. Slightly. Botts was hard to suppress, and really, I was already sure they could be trusted with its true identity.

Our A class defense system gave us more of a warning than Dici's drifteer trader's system, which allowed us to track their approach. I had Botts stationed in the tech room and hooked into the ship's system, ready to take control if needed. I stayed in my office, letting Illy and Dici deal with them from the bridge.

The pair of fighters approached within striking distance before demanding our credentials, which we provided using Dici on a vid broadcast. I figured seeing a familiar face should smooth things along. As it turned out, they cleared us within a minute, but escorted us inbound to the point where the lighters rendezvoused with us. Dici and Molaye offloaded the dozen containers we had for them in four hours. I listened in on Dici's banter with his old pals, the lighter pilots. Since he knew nothing that would endanger us, I'd given him no guidelines. He told his story about signing on, and they laughed about how we'd taken on this cargo without knowing where it was going. Everything went smoothly. Of course, if they intended to blow us to atoms, they'd want their boxes out of her before they did, so that proved nothing...

But we sailed away with a cheery 'Fair Orbits' from the lighter jockeys and put the chapter house astern. The jump fighter's 'Fair Orbits' were a bit curter, but they turned and flashed astern as well. I let out a long breath.

A quick seven day run to Hendin Station, and inward, Baidora bound, to Lyrina and on to Baidora orbit, 161 days after our departure. Dici and Elana had, by then, become comfortably established members of the Starry Shore, and I registered their apprenticeships with the Guild upon arrival and shared our secrets, which they found exciting. Youth.

### Part Eight – The Kryver Reef

### Chapter 65 The Azurete's Boat

01

When I set out to record my experiences as the acting captain of the Lost Star, I expected to write about the shipboard life aboard an ordinary tramp freighter. The Neb had other plans, and I find myself recording events that would put those old spaceers and their outlandish yarns to shame. Which makes it ironic that having finally settled into a stable orbit – even if it's a drift one – I've recorded nothing in two years. Perhaps within those outlandish stories I've accomplished what I set out to do. And well, I probably shouldn't have even mentioned how ordinary life has become. Naming names. But I guess it's too late now, so I might as well bring this account up to date.

We've heard nothing from Min. We don't send radio-packets to Min & Co fearing St Bleyth might be intercept them. Instead, at Botts' suggestion, we use the Credit Box to communicate – attaching notes to small credit transfers to Min & Co. since these transactions are instantaneous, secure, and untraceable. Using this method, we gave Kardea a guarded account of our predicament and asked her to contact our families to tell them we were trading deep in the drifts and might be out of contact for years. If and when Min needs to communicate with us, Kardea should use this method as well. But, as I said, we've heard nothing from her. I wasn't concerned – she was actually deep in the drifts and unlikely to be in a position to send radio packets to the Unity. Plus, I was enjoying the long leash.

Our first run out of Baidora proved to be the model for our Amdia trade – Baidora outbound to Creylin, Dortag, Shantien, Hendin, with occasional calls on half a dozen other drift stations like Vilin's Rock, Wayzon's Reef, D'Jin Station, and the Darc'ar Reef before returning to Baidora. Some of those drift stations were the type that not only allowed Molaye to wear her pirate piece but I was glad to have her alongside with her wearing it. Most, however, were gateway stations to the deeper reefs and drifts, served by CTC and Guild freight liners, and so they were fairly Unity Standard, at least with the thin slice we dealt with. We've settled into a groove very similar to our old Azminn round, regular, modestly profitable, and unexciting, though we sail with our anti-meteor missile magazines fully stocked with assorted missiles, I have no trouble sleeping. Neb, we're delivering two dozen boxes to St Bleyth's Shantien chapter house twice a year these days, so I didn't worry (much) about them connecting us to the Lost Star. If they ever do, I'd know it.

Dici got his pilot's ticket after the second voyage and Elana just passed her board exam yesterday, as did Kie as an environmental engineer, so I've a fully qualified crew. Rafe, the old rolling stone, has been content to stay on, in part, because the drift stations we're calling on are hardly inviting, and in part because he'd taken Kie on as his apprentice in his dark digital arts.

With our new identities, our owner somewhere in the drifts and unheard from, with Molaye now an extremely competent first mate, and Botts, Elana and Dici firmly settled in, the Lost Star was a fading memory. We were the Starry Shore.

02

I knew it – in naming names and saying how routine our life had become, I tempted the Dark Neb. Never seem to learn. Within hours of recording my brief update, our plans for a fifth drift run changed. I received a signal from the shipping office of the Numbia CTC. Were we available for an express run to Bleak Rock? They needed a large, D-matter furnace component delivered to their Bleak Rock foundry as soon as possible. The name alone gave me pause. I called it up on the charts as their transport agent gave me the particulars.

Bleak Rock lays on the edge of the Helgot drift, some 70 au outbound from Baidora. We'd sail up the rift between the Myzar and Helgot drifts for three quarters of the way at interstellar speeds, and step down to drift speed for the last dozen aus. The whole passage would take some 130 to 150 days. I was torn, Numbia's gratitude could do a lot for us... But I was comfortably settled in our Hendin-Baidora circuit. However, the charter terms, when the agent got around to them, proved too lucrative to pass up – I've an owner somewhere in the drifts that I was hired to serve – so five hours later we were once again dismantling our hold dividers in order to fit the massive conveyor part into holds 3, 2, and part of 1. Three days later we were on our way to Bleak Rock.

The first leg of our voyage, some 98 days of mostly clear sailing at interstellar speeds, took us past the drift world of Carivon, and up to the edge the finger of drift between the Myzar and Helgot drifts. After Carivon we decelerated to make our way through the thicker drift space of the Helgot Drift to Bleak Rock Station, a drift station that lives up to its name. We made Bleak Rock 121 days out of Baidora, well under our contract time, thanks to Botts, though I didn't dare give it a free hand for fear of making our passage too remarkable.

We didn't spend more time at Bleak Rock than necessary to unload the conveyor and complete our documentation for payment. Four days later we sailed for Carivon where I hoped to pick up some boxes for some Amdia system world.

03

Nine days out of Bleak Rock, Elana pinged me as I made my nightly rounds. 'We've a ship on radar, Skipper. A ship's boat or prospector.'

We were in the middle of nowhere, so it seemed out of place – you need to keep an eye on unusual things in the drifts. 'Keep a sharp watch. There might be more,' I said. 'I'll stop down in a few minutes.'

I'd just stepped onto the bridge when Kie, at lookout said, 'I'm picking up a signal from the contact requesting our ID. Shall I reply?'

'Aye, and request one as well,' I said. 'I'll be in my office if they care to speak to us.'

'Contact, Captain,' said Kie in my com linked ear speaker as I settled behind my desk.

'Switch it over,' I replied, calling up the com screen on my desk.

A weary looking woman with drawn face appeared on the screen.

'Captain?' she asked, staring closely at her screen.

'Aye, Nives Wilcrofter, of the Starry Shore out of Baidora bound for Carivon,' I replied.

'A Guild ship. A tramp,' she remarked, no doubt consulting her registry data base. 'Rather far from the usual orbits for a Guild tramp.'

'Far from everywhere. But we tramps are shiftless creatures. In this case we're returning from a delivery to Bleak Rock Station. And you, Captain?' I asked, noting the star badge on her cap.

She stared at me for a few seconds longer before shrugging, 'I'm sorry Captain, but this is the drifts... My name is Feyla Linnor, Captain of the Asterdronia Trading Company's Azurete.'

In a ship's boat, which would likely mean...

'As you likely surmise, my ship has been disabled and I've had to abandon her at present. We're on our way to Carivon as well. As you can see, we're making a rather leisurely passage of it, since we started from initial lift. Will you honor Guild obligations and take us aboard as shipwrecked spaceers?'

'Of course, Captain Linnor. We're at your service,' I replied, and glancing at her boat's track displayed on the view-panel on the wall next to me, I added, 'Do you require my longboat to collect you, or can you accelerate to rendezvous on your own?'

'We've fuel to rendezvous, but only at the cost of our ability to decel and make Carivon, so you understand my caution. I need be certain of your welcome.'

'Aye, this is the drifts. But if your Guild records are up to date, you'll see we've been operating out of Baidora for the last several years. You're more than welcome to hitch a ride to Carivon or on to the Amdia system, for that matter.'

She considered that for several moments, and then nodded. 'Fair enough. I've only two of my crew awake to stand watch with me, the rest are in sleeper-pods. If you are willing to take us aboard, I'll bring us alongside.'

'I'll have cabins prepared for your arrival, Captain Linnor.'

04

Fourteen hours later Illy, the hounds, and I, waited on the port side landing stage to greet Captain Linnor and her crew. Molaye, with her beloved pirate piece on her hip, was stationed at the top of the access well along with Kie, Myes and Riv – just in case. Botts was keeping watch as well, with all of the ship's sensors. This was, after all, the drifts, though everything checked out.

The dust-scarred hull of the longboat drifted into the floodlights as the gangplank dock latched on to its airlock with the slightest of tugs. A point in Captain Linnor's favor. As the safety door slid open, I stepped out into the clearsteel gangplank tube to greet our guests. Half a minute later, the airlock hatch opened and Captain Linnor swung out landing on to the gangplank with a magnetic click.

She'd taken the care to spruce up – a crisp company uniform, her hair tied back under her cap and her face freshly scrubbed, though that did not erase the tension lines etched in it.

'Welcome aboard, Captain Linnor,' I said stepping forward and taking her extended hand.

'It is good to be aboard, Captain Wilcrofter,' she replied taking me in with her cool eyes, adding with a wary smile, 'Thank you for having us.'

Linnor looked every bit a CTC ship's captain, which is to say she reeked of competent authority – even shipwrecked. She was as tall as I, slim, with light hair and sharp features, pretty, perhaps, but that was overlaid with years of authority and now, a great deal of worry. She was, after all, a captain of a wrecked ship – something I hope never to be. Still, even on this brief acquaintance, I was certain she hadn't lost it through carelessness.

'I'm sorry to hear of your misfortune, but I'm glad we can be of assistance,' I assured her, and turning as Illy approached with the eager dogs, added, 'And this is my purser, Illan Lantra, and the hounds are Astro and Orbit. I'm afraid they've the long established right to welcome all of our guests on board.'

'Illan,' she said with a nod and a cool smile, 'Astro and Orbit,' she added with a polite pat on their heads.

They were their usual friendly selves, not that it told me anything. They'd been pals with St Bleyth's D'Lay as well.

A large and wide square-built first mate (from his cap's badge) and a thin, wiry chief engineer – well, engineers always look like engineers, and she looked like one without even glancing at her badge – followed Linnor out and onto the gangplank.

'My First, Pax Sol, and my chief engineer Ivay Chan,' she said, introducing her shipmates, adding 'The rest of my crew are in pods. We needed to conserve resources aboard the longboat.'

'Aye. Welcome aboard Pax, Ivay,' I said as we shook hands and exchanged a few words over the bounding dogs. 'Let's go up to the office where we can discuss arrangements for moving the rest of your crew on board and stowing your boat,' I said with a wave towards the access well.

As we reached the bridge deck, I introduced Molaye and the gang, who still lingered around the access well, mostly out of curiosity now. I'm sure my guests didn't miss Molaye's pirate piece, but they affected not to notice. As I said, this was the drifts, and they likely had far more experience in them than I. I ushered them into the ship's office. The dogs joined us, but since they were on their best behavior, I let them stay.

'I've had three cabins cleared for your use,' I said. 'I'd like to transfer your sleeping shipmates to our suspended animation strong room and secure your boat. If that's satisfactory I'll set my crew to work, which should take us to meal time, where I hope you'll join us.'

'Thank you. We don't wish to be in the way – I realize how strangers can be disruptive – but I'd feel more comfortable if we are able to travel awake to Carivon.'

'Of course. You're all welcome to travel awake, we're only 14 days out of Carivon. We'll get along just fine. And I should add that you're welcome to travel with us to Amdia as a Guild courtesy as well, if you choose to.'

She nodded. 'Thank you. How we proceed from Carivon will be determined by my owners.'

'Ah, yes,' I said. 'I'll have M'Ley to organize a party to transfer your crew.'

She nodded to her shipmates, 'Pax and Ivay will help.'

They rose and I stepped out into the passageway to tell Molaye to get the off duty crew together and transfer the sleeper-pods to the strong room. As I stepped back in, I asked, 'Can I offer you something to drink, Captain? I've some Mystwine, Ysent or Ram Rock rum, or a cup of cha or kaf.

She closed her eyes for a second and then said with a sigh, 'Ram Rock rum sounds so tempting, but I think I'd better settle for kaf.'

'Kaf it is. We'll save the rum for after dinner.'

'I'd imagine you're curious to know how I arrived in this orbit,' she said, watching me go about brewing the kaf.

'Yes, of course, though I imagine it's not a pleasant topic. Really, if you'd rather wait and tell your story once and be done with it, we can postpone it until after dinner.'

'That might be best,' she said. 'Still, I assure you my crew and I did all we could to prevent the loss, and we were able to abandon my ship in a position that its cargo can be salvaged.'

'I've no doubts that you did everything that could be done. A chartered trading company doesn't employ careless captains or crews.'

'As to that, Captain, well, I'm in a rather delicate position. I'm sure you ran a Guild register check on the Azurete and the Asterdronia CTC and you're aware of the business we're in. So when I say my ship was home bound with a full cargo, you can understand that keeping the fate of my ship a secret for as long as possible is vital for the success and safety of the salvage operation. I opted to sail for Carivon instead of several closer drift stations to minimize the risk of word getting out before the official salvage operation could be put into motion.

'Word will get out, of course. People will talk. Hopefully whispers on Tradonia will take their time reaching the drifts. But if word leaks on Carivon, any salvage operation could become a great deal more difficult, and dangerous.'

'I understand your concern, and I'll see that no one talks.'

'I also hope our presence on board can be kept secret. That would've been impossible if we'd arrived in a longboat.'

'You can count on us. We're all good Guild members. We've never called on Carivon – we were planning just a quick look-in to see if there were any odd boxes we could take along back to Amdia – so our stay need only be as long as you require to contact your owners and get your instructions,' I assured her as I handed her a mug of kaf.

She nodded. 'I'm sorry to sound so demanding, but I have my responsibilities to my owners.'

'Aye, owners,' I said, raising my mug of kaf in an ironic salute.

I had, indeed, looked up the Asterdronia Chartered Trading Company. It trades in precious metals – gold silver, platinum, and the rare minerals needed for the creation of D-matter. None of these are rare in absolute terms – the drifts have more than enough to supply the Unity for the next few hundred thousand years. Over half of the required supply of these metals and minerals are supplied as a byproduct of mining other metals in the drifts. The remaining balance, however, comes from the relatively rare mine-able rocks and finding those rocks is time consuming and thus expensive. This, rather than absolute scarcity makes them precious. A ship's cargo of refined gold, silver, platinum and rare minerals would certainly attract a great deal of freelance salvage operators once word gets out – as it will.

'Owners,' she said, 'May they keep their wits about them. And speaking of wits, I trust you'll allow me some leeway in that department as well. I'm very grateful for anything you can do for us. It's just that...I haven't come to terms with this disaster just yet.'

'Yes, of course. If there's anything I can do, don't be afraid to ask. I assure you, I feel your pain.'

She nodded. 'I should also say that I can't promise you anything. Every decision will be made by my owners on Tradonia.'

'We serve our owners.' I said.

'Have you been trading in the drifts for long?' she asked to change the subject.

'Something like five years now. Five years too long...' I began by sketching in our history and we soon drifted into spaceer yarning unit Molaye appeared, minus her pirate piece, at the office door.

'Passengers and boat are stowed and the personal effects delivered to the cabins, Captain,' she said when I inquired with a glance.

'Right,' I said, and glancing at the desk clock, I added, 'Dinner will be in a little less than an hour, so I'll let M'Ley show you to your cabin so you can settle in a'bit before dinner.'

'Thank you, Captain,' Linnor said rising, 'I appreciate all you've done.' And with a nod and a faint smile to Molaye, left me with the sleeping dogs.

05

'I appreciate your patience, Captain Wilcrofter,' began Linnor, with a nod to me.

'Wil will do fine,' I said.

She nodded with a faint smile and continued looking about, 'I appreciate Captain Wil allowing me the opportunity to tell our story once to everyone. It is, as you can imagine, a painful memory for all of us,' she began. All but Lili and Myes, who had the watch, had settled about the chairs and lounges of the awning deck after our meal to hear her tale.

'The Azurete is a 110 meter, 60 container, cargo liner designed for drift work – a reinforced hull, extended fuel tanks and two enclosed boat hangars, one housing a skip fighter for added protection. As I'm certain most of you know already, we specialized in the transport of precious metals and rare minerals, hence the skip fighter. Though in my 19 years as captain, we've never had to actually use its weapons. Having it aboard has been enough to keep us free of any would-be pirates. The Azurete's field of operation is the Kryver Reef. We call on several dozen independent mining stations once a year. The reef is massive, some 20 to 25 au in size and we spend nearly four months within it collecting our cargoes – mostly in quarter boxes. We were home bound for Tradonia with 196 quarter and half boxes, less than half a day from the edge of the reef when our long range radar picked up some remarkable activity amongst the rocks of the reef bordering the passage we were threading.

'It appeared that something vast in the reef had exploded, sending rocks and asteroids flying at hyper-speeds. Since this happened in the dense reefs, these hyper-speed rocks were striking other rocks, sending them flying outwards at random vectors as well, so that we faced a massive hyper-speed storm of meteors coming at us from odd angles and at such speeds that we could not hope to avoid all of them.'

'A so called black dragon, event' said Lilm.

Linnor cast a glance towards Lilm. 'Yes, I've been told that's the drifteer term for such an event. Are you familiar with the phenomena?'

'I sailed the Canjar Drift in my youth – a very strange quarter of the Nebula,' she replied. 'And likely the source of many drifteer and spaceer legends. I've not actually seen a black dragon in action, but we often sailed through the Mulbria Reef along what was said to be an ancient black dragon passage – a very clear and straight hole through a dense reef. And there are many other such tracks throughout the Canjar.'

'And do you know what they are? Assuming they're not actual dragons swimming through the rocks of the reef,' asked Linnor with a faint smile.

'I don't know if you can assume they're not dragons or some sort of inter-dimensional phenomena. You've just witnessed one, so you know more about that than I,' replied Lilm sharply.

'Our radars didn't pick up any dragon.'

'Just so. Which is why they're called black dragons – undetectable, not quite of this dimension. But if you prefer a less colorful theory, it's that you've experienced a creasing of space-time wrought by the gravitational stress lines of the Ninth Star. If you consider the rocks of the reef to be specks of dust on the surface of a sheet of paper, a sudden creasing of that paper would send them flying in all directions, which seems to be the event you're describing. You've witnessed one of the myths of the Nebula,' Lilm said with a shrug, adding, 'And lived to tell about it, which is remarkable. How did you manage?'

'Luck, and a specially built ship. We could not avoid the effects of the, well, black dragon – it was too near and its effects spread too rapidly for us to decel, turn and run. Within an hour the passage we'd been following disappeared, leaving us no choice but to try to make our way through the meteor storm.

'Since we were not traveling at great speed, avoiding a normal meteor swarm would've been fairly routine, but with the hyper-speeds and with the variety of vectors with which the meteors were coming at us, it was impossible to avoid all of them and we had to take several minor hits from the smaller rocks while dodging or destroying the larger ones with our anti-meteor missiles. I had the crew suit up and stationed all of them but myself and my chief mates in our ship's longboat, turning that side away from the onrushing rocks.

'Over the course of the next six hours we danced and dodged and blasted rocks – but, as I said, not all of them. Only the fact that the Azurete was built for drift work, allows me to tell my tale. We were holed several times, including one through the engine room and into the main engine. Our crew section was also badly holed. Luckily they were small rocks and the main engine was not in operation or we'd not be here. Eventually, we reached the far side of the event and outer edge of the reef where the immediate effects of the black dragon had passed.

'Free of immediate danger, we were able to take stock of our situation. Both of the ship's boats were undamaged but the Azurete had only one balancing rocket operable and no working environmental system. Getting the ship to the nearest reasonable port, Carivon, on one balancing rocket would take over twenty years so I decided to abandon the ship and make for Carivon in the longboat where we could contact our owners and arrange a salvage operation.

'One option was to abandon the Azurete, buoyed, and trust that whenever a salvage operation was mounted – which might take years to organize – they would be able to locate the ship. Given the unsettled local conditions, I was leery of it surviving in the open, so with a small moon-like asteroid in radar range and reachable, I decided to land my ship on it instead. We spent several days maneuvering the Azurete using the few remaining steering rockets and the one balancing rocket to softly crash the ship on this moon. It had enough of a gravity, something like .02 gee to hold the ship until our return. I worked up a course for the moon and keyed several buoys to respond only to a coded signal, so it should be fairly easy for an authorized salvage operation to locate.

'With the ship stashed away, we set out three months ago in the longboat for Carivon. Which brings us up to date, I believe...' she paused, looked about and continued. 'As I mentioned to your captain, I am certain that my owners will salvage the Azurete. I'm hoping that we can keep both the wreck and our presence aboard your ship a secret in order to get a jump on any freelance competition... I think you can see how it would be a lot safer for the salvage operation if it didn't have any drift hawks (opportunistic some-time pirates) hanging about.'

'I can speak for all of us when I say that you can count on us,' I said. 'We understand the stakes involved.'

06

Traveling aboard a small tramp – awake – is not the most exciting thing to do in the Nebula, which is one of the reasons why we're on duty half of each day. Having more time on one's hands tends to get wearisome. Passengers must endure this idleness, which is even more wearisome, if you're a spaceer and used to filling half of your time with work.

You can read – we've a million books in the library, in thousands of omnibus collections sorted by genre, planet of origin, and era. You can watch vids, we've a million of them too, sorted as well – a legacy of the ship's time as a freight/passenger liner. You can exercise. You can eat boxed meals from the bistro whenever you want. You can go up to no. 4 hold and play catch with the dogs, though you sometimes have to snag them out of the air to reacquaint them with the deck. You can be pounced on by a big white cat, if you're not paying attention. You can sit around and yarn with the off duty crew. Or you could just sit on the awning deck or in your cabin and brood. Losing a ship will do that to you. However, after spending three months in a small boat crammed with sleeper-pods, they didn't complain.

We did make a point of having games in no. 4 hold each night, free-fall ball and target games, drone battles and even laser tag in the dark. I let Molaye play one game of laser tag, just to show our guests that she can wear a pirate piece on her hip. It was a short game. She doesn't miss. Ever.

All in all, we got along fine. Indeed, Molaye and Captain Linnor seemed to hit it off – two of a kind, I suspect. I even heard Captain Linnor laugh. Twice.

### Chapter 66 The Salvage of the Azurete

01

Captain Linnor stopped in the doorway of my office, a day out of Carivon, while we were decelerating to make orbit.

'Can we talk?'

'Yes, of course.' We'd not discussed plans and I expected we'd want to reach an understanding before we arrived.

She stepped in and slid the door closed.

Settling into one of the chairs, she sighed and said, 'We've several things to talk about, one of which I've rather put off. Can I ask that what I'm about to say be kept confidential? I may be speaking out of turn, but I feel that, as a ship's captain myself, I should give you a bit of warning. Though I hope none is needed.'

I leaned back and gave her a searching look, 'Yes of course. Though you're scaring me.'

'You scare easily,' she said with faint smile.

'Five years in the drifts will do that.'

'I don't think you need be too scared. I'm the one who's scared. But enough of this fencing. I've tales to tell that aren't all mine to tell, but I feel compelled to do so, so I'd best just proceed...'

I nodded. 'Please.'

'Bry and Kylan plan to announce that they are dissolving their partnership,' she said, and hurried on, 'Bry assures me that it's a cordial and mutual agreement, and they both plan to continue serving aboard. I believe this is largely my fault. Bry says they've been growing apart for some time – they're both very young – and have been growing up. But the fact is that your first mate and I have struck up a friendship. Well, more than a friendship...' she paused, blushing, watching me. 'A friendship with sparks.'

I sighed and closing my eyes, ran my fingers through my hair. When I looked up, she was smiling slightly. 'What?'

'She said you'd do that.'

'What?'

'Sigh and run your fingers through your hair. She says you do it all the time.'

'When dealing with M'Ley, I do,' I admitted. 'You're old enough to know better, Captain.'

'Are we ever old enough, Wil? Still, guilty as charged. Your first mate is a very determined woman,' she paused. 'As you well know. But as you also know, our position as captains can be a lonely one. We haven't the latitude other crew members have in affairs like this. I've been a ship's captain for 27 years, a first mate for seven before that and a spaceer for over forty. I've not had free time to allow any romantic relationship to grow. Nor have I met the right person, until now. Perhaps it is because I'm vulnerable – I could be facing life on the beach. Or perhaps I've simply reached that time in life – life is going by and well, you can't wait forever. I don't know... Anyway, then comes Bry. Bright, cheerful, competent, attractive, and attracted to me. And I fell for her. It's just as simple as that...'

'Hardly simple... And we do have the final say over that aspect of our life.'

'Easy to say, until we meet someone, sometime... We're still humans, Captain. So, no, I guess it isn't simple. But however things work out, I assure you, I won't let her leave the ship for me. I'd not do that to a fellow captain. And if I was certain that we'd part on reaching Carivon, I'd not bring it up at all. It wouldn't matter. But...'

'But?'

'I'm sure that you've considered the possibility that your ship might well be the first and best choice to salvage the cargo of the Azurete. You're on hand, free, and with any luck at all, we could have the cargo in your holds before word reaches deep enough into the drifts to attract any dangerous competition. Of course, that decision will be made by my owners. I'm not certain what, if any, say I'll have in the matter. However, if they make your owner an offer with acceptable terms, I, and some of my crew, will no doubt be ordered to return with you to oversee the operation. Which means I'll be on board for the next half of a year or more. And that means...' she left that hanging.

'You'd be M'Ley's new partner.'

'Yes, I believe so.'

I ran my fingers through my hair again, and gave her a look when she smiled again.

'What's between Bry and me is our own affair,' she continued. 'We've not committed any breach of shipboard etiquette, and I don't think being a partner of your first mate would raise too many eyebrows since my status would be little more than a supercargo. However, since it may have an impact in your owner's consideration, I wanted to make this possibility clear before any decision was made.'

'I appreciate that.'

'Are you angry?'

'No, of course not,' I assured her. 'I know my M'Ley too well. She gets what she wants. I realized that years ago, which is why she's my first mate. It gives her something constructive to do with all her energy and drive. So I know that if she's decided she wants you – and you want her – there is nothing I can do, even if I cared to. I don't fight battles I can't win. So what of the future? Am I going to have to find a new first mate after any salvage operation?'

'We have talked about that, and we both feel that though I'm several decades older than she is, we can afford to wait. We both have careers that neither of us cares to abandon at the moment. And it might be better if we're both captains to keep the relationship on an even keel...' she gave me a look, realizing what she'd said.

'In a few years. I'm not a lifer. When she gets restless, she can have the Starry Shore. I've no intention of standing in her way. But that's just between you and me.'

She nodded. 'Of course. But what I was saying was that, beyond a possible voyage to the Azurete, we both have ambitions that preclude remaining partners for some time to come. A ship can't have two captains. If things work out that we can be partners for the duration of the salvage operation, it will be, I believe, wonderful. But after that, we understand that our relationship will have to be put in a sleeper-pod for a decade or two while we accomplish what we want in our first careers... But who knows what is written?'

'Aye.'

'With that understanding, do you think your owner would be interested in the salvage of the Azurete's cargo? If not, I won't mention it as a possibility when I contact my owners.'

That was not a question I was looking forward to answering, not that I had any illusion that it could be avoided.

'Being a very Unity Standard fellow, with a wide streak of caution in my makeup, I can say with absolute conviction that I wouldn't touch the prospect with a cargo crane,' I said, adding with a sigh, 'However, I'm only the ship's captain, not its owner, so my opinion, as captain, doesn't lift. However, the owner of the White Bird Line is presently somewhere in the drifts and unreachable and so I have the operational authority to make decisions as the owner. Which means that I must at least consider any offer as my owner would, which means I must consider the possibility that the whole charter would simply consist of sailing to the edge of the Kryver Reef to spend several days transferring 196 quarter boxes to my ship, and then sailing to Tradonia, with a fortune in fees and salvage claims.'

'It should be that easy, Captain, but I can't guarantee it will be.'

'I've been very lucky, but you never know when that'll change. Dare I lean on my luck that hard? And if it isn't that easy, it could get really dangerous, very fast...'

'And more dangerous the longer the process takes,' she added.

'Aye, a cargo like that will have every drifteer with a ship and no scruples on their way to the Kryver as soon as they take on their fuel. A drifter gold rush. Everyone for themselves'.

'If you're lucky. If they choose to band together, it could get really nasty. Which is why we need to act swiftly, and why your ship is so ideal. With any luck, we should be on our way home before the first drift hawk arrives.'

'It just sounds too easy...' I muttered.

'Still, you'll take the charter? How can you refuse?'

'I'll consider it,' I replied cautiously. 'As I must. Reluctantly.'

'By all means be reluctant. Be very reluctant. I'm quite sure they'll make an offer you won't be able to refuse. Your ship is just too ideally placed for the job. Any expedition launched from Tradonia would arrive four or five months after the Starry Shore, and by then, the word would've reached the darkest corners of the drifts and who knows how many armed ships would be needed to hold the drift hawks at bay,' she said and shook her head. 'No Wil, you won't be able to refuse their offer. And it'll be the easiest credits you'll ever make.'

'I think, Captain, you're tempting the Dark Neb,' I said, and with a sinking feeling, I was sure I was going to find that out.

02

Molaye and Kie came to see me after we'd settled into Carivon orbit and told me they were ending their partnership. I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed. I really wasn't acting... 'Are you sure?'

'Yes,' said Molaye. 'We've grown up and grown apart, Captain,' said Molaye. 'We're too young to be life partners. We're still growing. I'm very fond of Kie, always will be. But we're too different to be partners...'

'Kie?'

'Aye...' said Kie. 'I feel the same way. We were right once. We're not now.'

'Can you still serve together?'

They both nodded.

'We've talked about it, and we don't see any problem with that,' said Molaye. 'We're still very fond of each other.'

I didn't push it further. It was probably true. Linnor just accelerated the process. Molaye said nothing about her, but with the Azurete salvage not settled, it wasn't an issue. Yet.

Later, I had a private word with Kie.

'Are you really going to be comfortable with Molaye, and possibly Linnor, aboard?' I asked.

He shrugged. 'I can't say I'm happy, or completely comfortable. But I can deal with it. Molaye always gets her way, so what I think is neither dust nor gas. However, I do recognize that we're no longer right for each other, so I'm not angry. I'll get over it. I'll get over her...'

'Even as a shipmate? I really want you aboard, Kie, but I want you to be happy on board as well...'

'Don't worry. I'll be fine. We're shipmates. We'll always be shipmates.'

03

Captain Linnor wasted no time contacting her owners upon our arrival in Carivon orbit. Their reply took two days and included an offer to charter us with various premiums, which I quickly declined. I'd read up on salvage operations and knew I'd be offered a share of the recovered cargo. I secretly hoped they'd balk at offering the usual share, since even the customary 1/12th share could, depending, on how many boxes we were able to get off the Azurete, be a fabulous fortune.

They came back within hours with a second offer that met my criteria – premium charter fees and 1/12th share of the recovered cargo – to no great surprise, but to my dismay. I couldn't just trust my luck and yet, how could I refuse? As a Guild certified offer, it would be on the ship's records whether I accepted it or not, so given the premium fee charter and the estimated value of our share of the total cargo, which might amount to half a century's profit, how could I turn it down? Especially since I knew Min would've jumped at the chance. I valued my life, the lives of my shipmates and my ship, higher than half a century's profits, and yet how could I pass on something that could be as simple as transferring cargo ship to ship, especially in the face of three very determined individuals?

I'd already taken the measure of Captain Linnor. She was going to salvage her cargo, black dragons and a swarm of drift hawks notwithstanding. She'd lost her ship and while she'd done everything possible to minimize her ill fortune, the salvage operation was more about salvaging her reputation and self-esteem than about the gold. If she could bring off the salvage, she'd likely come out with more credit than she had going in.

And there was Molaye. We'd established a very comfortable working relationship. She runs the ship like a good first mate, and I let her. All I expect is that, on the rare occasion, when I need to give an order, she obeys it without getting all tall and narrow eyed, should she not care for it. Dealing with Molaye is like dealing with a lorelion that you've raised from a kitten – there's always a remote possibility that things might not go as you expect them to go. And given her new and passionate affection for Captain Linnor, I was rather leery of pushing my tame lorelion too hard. Molaye is not afraid, well, of just about anything, so leaving the ship to follow Linnor would not be out of the question. And I really didn't want her going off with Linnor – I wanted to give her command of the Starry Shore in a few years...

Finally, there's Min. As I said, I've not heard from her since Despar and going off into the drifts undercover means I'm not likely to be hearing from her anytime soon. So in one sense, I was free to do as I pleased. However, since the Asterdronia's charter was a certified offer, it will be on the ship's record when Min eventually reviews my performance. I'd have to explain why I passed on a fortune to sail, hollow to Baidora to collect the crumbs of cargoes that did little more than pay the bills. I wasn't looking forward to that.

The bottom line, however, was that my name was listed as Captain and the decision and its consequences were mine, and mine alone. So I consulted Botts.

'What do you advise?' I asked it, after inviting it to my office to go over the situation. 'What are our chances of getting the gold off the Azurete and home to Tradonia?'

'I'm flattered you're consulting with me, sir. But I've not been programmed to make that type of evaluation. It is outside of my operating parameters.'

'Right,' I said, giving it a look. 'So why don't you tell me what Viletre Viseor would've done instead.'

'Oh, he'd have taken the charter in a heartbeat,' Botts, replied, eyes bright, 'The only question would have been; where he would have gone with it after he had it on board. He was a keen businessman, sir.'

It is hard for the featureless face of Botts to leer sarcastically, but it did so anyway.

'Which is exactly why I'm asking you for your advice. You spent more than a century serving that keen businessman and have all that experience filed away in your memory. So tell me how he would've calculated the odds?'

'Well, first I would imagine that he would count on having a two-week lead over any other contenders, which should be enough to get the job done if all goes as planned. Secondly, he would've noted that the section of the drifts outward from Amdia is relatively poor and thinly populated, so that the initial response from the drifts would likely be weak – small ships and few of them at that – at least for the first weeks, if not months. So even if things did not work out as planned, he could have easily fought his way through any lurking drift hawks, if necessary.'

'Using your fire control skills to do so?'

'Aye. And the Viseor Entrada's extensive anti-meteor armory.'

'Right. Would those fire control skills of yours still be at my service, should I take this charter?'

'Of course, sir.'

'And what is your opinion of our anti-meteor armory, given your appreciation of our probable opposition?' Which was the heart of the matter. I'd seen Botts fight our ship – but if things didn't go as planned, we'd likely have to do more than hold off a ship or two for an hour or two. However, we did carry a full and varied array of missiles in our missile magazine – I didn't sail the drifts without the best these days.

'The Viseor Entrada had a larger and more extensive anti-meteor armory, since it sailed the deep drifts on a regular basis. It did not, however have a skip fighter. So, given our likely scale opposition, should the operation be kept under three or four months in duration, I'd say our anti-meteor protection along with the skip fighter, which I understand is similar to a jump fighter but smaller and less sophisticated, should be adequate to deal with anything we might encounter on the Kryver coast.'

'And if it took longer?'

'When faced with overwhelming force, "Villain" Viseor always found it best to slip quietly away. With the vast Kryver Reef close at hand, I would think a backdoor could be found to slip quietly away...'

I sighed. 'Do you have any use for gold, Botts?'

'Why, no?'

'So your advice is free of any selfish motives on your part?'

'As a class 8 machine, I have no selfish motives whatsoever, Sir. I am designed to serve my owner, or in this case, my captain. And to answer your question, my answers have been based solely on my past experience and my appreciation for the situation at hand.'

'You do have a self-preservation program, Botts?'

'Yes sir. With limits, of course. The welfare of my employers is always my priority.'

'Does the prospect of salvaging the Azurete's gold set off any little alarms in your self-preservation program?'

'No sir.' Botts replied, adding with its little twitch of a shrug, 'I'm sorry, Sir.'

I sighed again. There was no avoiding the Kryver Reef now.

Soon after Botts left, Molaye swung into my office and perched herself on the chair before my desk. 'I think we should take the charter, Captain,' she said. 'It would mean a lot to Captain Linnor.'

'Right,' I said, and leaning forward, called the charter to the desk top. 'Should we ask for a share or two more of the salvage? Can you think of any other modifications we should hold out for?'

She gave me her squinty-eyed look and said, 'I don't think so...'

'Have you read it over?'

'Not all of it...' she said, watching me closely.

'No? Oh well, what the Neb, why not?' I said, and placed my palm on the document's authorizing box. 'There. We're going. Happy?'

Her eyes wide with surprise. 'Just like that?'

'Aye. Just like that. Of course, I read the whole contract,' I added, giving her a hard look.

She ignored the hard look. 'Why, Captain, what's gotten into you? What happened to my ol'Captain Crofter? What happened to good old cautious... Captain Litang? (The last in a conspiratorial whisper.) I assured Fey that I'd bring you around, but what will I say now? I didn't have to do a thing,' she said, rattling on, adding. 'The drifts have changed you.'

'No they haven't,' I replied. 'I simply didn't have a choice. I couldn't face our owner after passing up half a century's profit to return hollow to Baidora and our marginal trade – as much as I'd like to.'

Molaye shook her head. 'No, that's not it. You could be growing cha by the time Min looks over the books. No, you've changed.'

'Well, I hope so. I've been wearing a star badge for more than half a decade now.'

'It's more than that. It's the drifteer in you coming out.'

'Drifteer or not, it's the Captain in me that's telling you that the next time you care to advise me on a charter, read the Neb-blasted thing before you do.'

She gave me a wide smile. 'I'll add that to my notes, Captain. Thanks!' and with a sketchy salute, hopped off her perch and was out the door to break the news to Captain Linnor. Fey.

Captain Linnor, Pax and Ivay accompanied us back to oversee the Azurete's side of the operation while the rest of the crew was sent on to Tradonia. Linnor leased two orbital lighters to take off the cargo in case we couldn't reach the Azurete's position and purchased two small cargo-handling robots to facilitate shuttling the boxes between the ships in the likely event that her ship's cargo cranes were inoperable. We stowed lighters in the main hold and the cargo robots in the no. 4 hold and sailed for the Kryver Reef.

Without any official duties, the Azurete crew spent a great deal of their time rebuilding the robots and designing and building extended fuel tanks for the lighters.

04

Sixty-one days later Linnor, Molaye and I were standing on the bridge studying the composite sensor image of the Kryver Reef coast on a forward view-panel. For the last several weeks, it had been a slowly growing fist of blackness against the cold light of the glowing, gaseous nebula. Now, laying a quarter of an astronomical unit off its coast, its dense reefs blacked out half the glowing sky, its edge sharply etched against the cold glow of the nebula. The holographic composite image, however, showed much more.

'Blast,' said Linnor, staring at that display.

'Indeed,' I said, though I wasn't quite as dismayed as Linnor. As I may've mentioned, I'm no more superstitious than any other spaceer, but I'd have felt very nervous if all we had to do was run down to the Azurete and take off its boxes. You have to pay for luck, and I felt I had a lot on my tab already for the luck I've enjoyed to date, so I'd have been very leery of the bill if it had been that easy. Not that I was happy with what I was looking at, but I clearly wasn't going to have to worry about paying for a golden asteroid with luck. At least, not yet.

What we were looking at was not a total surprise. The long range sensors had foreshadowed the phenomena, but the full sensor array created an impressively daunting display of the Kryver coast where the Azurete was wrecked. It showed that the black dragons had been far from idle during the five months since the Azurete was wrecked. They had carved several new, long, deep gashes in the edge of the thick reef, sending a thick plume of asteroids and meteors flying outwards from the reef. The larger of these rocks showed up on the display in a rainbow of colors that indicated their varying vectors and velocities – tens of thousands of them, hinting of the millions of smaller ones still undetected. The coast of the reef where the Azurete's 200 km sized moon had been, was no longer recognizable – and the moon, if it wasn't smashed to pieces, lay somewhere lost in the heart of the dense plume of debris.

'We're going to need to get a lot closer in order to make contact with the automatic beacons on my ship,' remarked Linnor, since the colliding rocks and dust were generating a great deal of electromagnetic static.

'I'll send the drones in,' I said.

'We've the field to ourselves at the moment, but that won't last. I understand your caution, but you're being well compensated for taking some risks. I suggest we push deeper into the plume without delay. The sooner we get the cargo off, the less risks you'll run with the drift hawks,' replied Linnor, without glancing at me.

Molaye did, however. She knew me too well.

'True. But we're essential to your success, and the ship not specially built for this type of work, so we need to minimize our risks. I'll certainly bring her in closer, but only after the drones survey the plume and locate your ship to give us an idea of the threat level from the small meteors we're not seeing,' I replied.

'You can't avoid taking some risk in this sort of venture.'

'Reasonable ones,' I replied, and added to keep the peace, 'However we won't know what reasonable is until we locate your ship and chart a course to it. So let's get started – we haven't time to waste,' I replied, with forced cheerfulness – and optimism. I'd no intention of risking my ship on a desperate plan. Assuming we could locate the Azurete, I'd rather have the cargo brought out in either the Azurete itself, if it could be lifted, or by the lighters we'd brought with us for that purpose. Both would take time – months – so that we'd likely be facing drift hawks before we had all the gold in our holds. I was inclined to face the drift hawks rather than the dangers of the black dragons and meteors in part because the drift hawks were, at the moment, just a theoretical threat. And I had Botts, and hopefully a skip fighter as well.

05

The drones raised the Azurete's auto-beacons on the third day, very close to its charted position on the former coast of the reef – deep within the plume. We had strung the drones into a line ahead just to maintain radio contact with the lead one.

'The lead drone should reach your ship in two days and we can see what condition it's in,' I said to Linnor, who was studying the chart in my office. 'We'll survey the local conditions and see what the prospects are for taking the ship in.'

'I think, Captain, in the name of expediency, I'll take our longboat in. It'll save a lot of time since I'll need to inspect the interior condition of my ship in any event. If everything is as I left it, I'd like to get the ship lifted and on its way out, since I doubt you'd consider a rendezvous where it lies now,' she said watching me closely.

'I understand your eagerness, but with the limited data we have at present, you'd be running significant risks. And, well, there's no point speculating how we'll need to tackle the project until we have the data in hand.'

She shook her head. 'The sooner we recover my cargo, the less chance we'll have of losing it – and our lives – to the drift hawks. Every day counts.'

I wasn't going to change her mind. 'Right. So to expedite matters, would you mind if I tagged along. I'd like a firsthand look myself,' I said, adding, 'I'm certain we can quickly agree on a plan, once we both have full knowledge of the situation.'

She hesitated a second. 'Of course, Captain. You'd be welcome to come along, but it might be an extended visit. I'll certainly try to lift my ship off the rock and get it on its way out. And if that's the case, we'll stay on board to pilot and defend it, which means you'll need to have a boat sent in to fetch you.'

'We'll cross that rift when we come to it. I want to avoid any misunderstandings.'

'That sounds like you don't trust me,' she said, only half joking.

'Let's say I'm very familiar with your type,' I replied.

'Type?'

'Let's call it dashing and daring,' I replied with a grim laugh. 'M'Ley can handle everything on this end, so I'm comfortable remaining aboard until a boat can be sent in.'

'Right,' she nodded, 'Then let's get this rocket launched.'

After Linnor left to gather her crew, I stepped around to the bridge.

'You have the ship, First,' I said, 'I'm going with Captain Linnor to survey the wreck. I may be gone a week. Have engineering cycle up the Azurete's longboat.'

She straightened up ever so slightly and her eyes narrowed, but nodded and said, 'Aye sir', just like a good first mate.

06

Linnor took the longboat in faster than any drone would've made the passage. We were 25 hours into the inward voyage and were now decelerating to match velocity with Azurete's moon, some three hours down course. Linnor and Pax Sol had the watch. Ivay and I were seated on two auxiliary acceleration chairs in its small control compartment. As a precaution against a minor holing incident, we were wearing light survival spacesuits with a soft, hood-like helmet we could pull over if needed. It had been a weary, but thankfully uneventful passage, and with at least half a dozen more days of living in the long boat ahead of me, I was already regretting inviting myself along – the price of responsibility, I guess.

I was, however, allowing myself to grow optimistic. Meteor density appeared to be associated with specific black dragon active periods, and as such, it was arrayed in waves. As those waves expanded outwards, their density decreased, so the three waves we'd run through seemed safe enough to navigate through with a slowly traveling ship, especially with Botts' eye on the radar and finger on the trigger. I was beginning to think I could bring the Starry Shore in alongside the Azurete and quickly transfer the cargo. The only issue was that the waves showed no clear pattern, so that we'd run the risk of being caught in a new outbreak, very close to the source, where the meteors outbreak would be very dense. But even then, we could take cover behind the moon. After a day in the longboat, I was ready to take that bit of luck without a qualm. I never learn.

'Hang on,' snapped Linnor, breaking into my pleasant daydream.

I cursed softly, 'What's up?'

'A new black dragon eruption. I'm seeing rocks at hyper-speeds on the long range radar,' she replied, as she flung us about to reverse the boat and push us deep into our seats as she began to accelerate inwards, for the moon.

I could see, over Pax's shoulder, the sensor display lighting up in an explosion of vivid colored lines and dots, marking a sudden outburst of hyper-accelerating rocks along the former edge of the Kryver Reef. The red colored plots were the ones coming towards us. There was an awful lot of red on that screen. The sensor display estimated the eruption happening only five million kilometers beyond the Azurete's moon. There was no way we could avoid being caught in it.

'We're going to have to make for the moon hot and fast. We'll shelter behind it or in the Azurete until this disruption passes. It'll be close, but we should make it before the peak of the wave reaches us,' said Linnor, opening the main rocket flat out.

She'd no choice. It would've taken too long to stop and run. Racing to the moon was not just the best option, it was the only one.

Molaye radioed a warning and I ordered her to pull the drones back. Without the drones we'd be out of radio contact for a few days, but radio contact wasn't essential. There was nothing they could do to help. We were on our own.

Linnor drove the longboat full blast, with the occasional twitch as she dodged meteors. As much as I like riding a rocket flat out, I didn't enjoy it as a passenger. Not that I didn't trust Linnor's handling of the boat – it's just that if I was at the controls, the minutes would've flown by. As a passenger, they crept by.

Suddenly the main engine was quiet as the steering engines swung us 180 degrees before Linnor engaged it again, just as frantically, to kill our velocity so we'd not overrun the Azurete's moon. The closer we got to the moon, the more frequently Linnor dodged the first and fastest onrushing meteors from the eruption. Tiny grains of sand zinged across the hull and pea sized ones dinged with unnerving frequency. Luckily, the longboat was specially built for drift work with an extra thick hull. But it had its limits, as we found out with a hard lurch, followed by a resounding Bang! that set the alarms screaming. As one, we reached back to flip our helmets on, slapping them into position and turning on the life support systems of our survival space suits.

'Just a wingtip!' exclaimed Linnor over the com link. 'We're still in one piece. Five more minutes and we'll be in the moon's shadow.'

The longboat's wings were little more than a meter-wide vane – just enough to stabilize the boat when going through an atmosphere, so it'd been that close. Still, since we were in one piece, I guess just a wingtip could be counted as a very near miss.

We kept the suit's hoods on as Linnor had the long boat twitching constantly in those last five minutes. And then without warning, the ship was suddenly still, with the pale, nebula-lit, cratered surface of the moon visible on the console view-panel, close at hand.

'The moon seems to be tumbling. Neb-blast it! Must have taken a big hit, ' she muttered, 'I've got a radar read on the Azurete. It's presently on the sheltered side of the moon. Barely. I think we'll be safe within the ship's hangar. I'll take us in.'

It took fifteen minutes of creeping over and around the battered black ridges, grey peaks and dusty white craters – many of which appeared to be quite new – to reach the large, low walled, crater where Linnor had grounded her ship. In the pale nebula light, the ship was a black shadow on the lower slope of the crater wall.

'Not quite where I left it. Looks to have taken another hit as well,' muttered Linnor.

As we crept closer she added, 'Good thing I vented most of the fuel or we'd have had only a second crater to look at now.

The bow of the ship had been smashed in, but the cargo holds looked to be – more or less –intact. And well, gold is not fragile. Ivay remarked that the engine section seemed to have taken no further hits. I gathered the one working engine was on the bottom, sheltered by the rest of the ship, so none of them seemed too discouraged, although I'd seen many a hulk on flats of & Kin's in better shape than the Azurete. I kept that opinion to myself.

'Let's get aboard,' Linnor said, firing the boat's steering rockets to take us skimming across the crater floor to the ship. In the control console's view-panels I could see meteors flashing overhead, just clearing the crater wall and often striking the far side of the crater in a flash of light and dust. I could only hope the moon's wobble was taking us away from the reef side.

The Azurete's hangar deck is an interior one, corresponding to our no. 4 hold. The starboard hangar door, on the ship's lower side, had been left open. It was now, with the shifting of the ship, half buried in dust and rocks. Linnor deftly edged the longboat under the door, blasting enough of the dust and debris out of the way with its landing jets to squeeze under the shelter of the overhanging door.

'This will have to do for now,' she said. 'Let's see where we stand...'

We donned the full spacesuits and, cracking the hatch, climbed out onto the gravel that had ended up in the hangar when the ship slipped sideways. Lit by the longboat's landing lights and the light flowing from the open hatch, we made a quick visual inspection of the other two boats – both the gig, partially buried in the dust and rocks, and the skip fighter appeared to be undamaged.

Then, with Linnor in the lead, we made our way down through the ship by pulling ourselves awkwardly along the spiral staircase that lined its main access well. The moon provided just enough gravity to give a sense of orientation, making the Azurete, with its decks askew, feel like the wreck is was. There were piles of debris in the darkness of the downside companionways. The bulkheads above were twisted and torn by the meteor strikes, the largest of which had breached both hulls and made a shambles of the three decks above the engine room. The bridge had survived fairly intact. The engine room, however, was a grotesque tangle of twisted catwalks, scattered pipes and loose wires seen in our darting helmet lights and torches. But then, engine rooms are large and complicated by their nature, so the disorder wasn't as striking as the decks above – to a non-engineer – anyway. The massive main engine looked intact, until you noted the black, half-meter hole in its main combustion chamber.

Standing in the dead engine room, I couldn't help but feel, well, a sense of foreboding or fear. If this could happen to a captain as competent as Linnor, how close was I sailing to disaster? And what would I feel like if I was taking a party though the blackened remains of my ship? I'd been lucky so far, but luck not only lifts, it lands as well. I couldn't see myself bringing the Starry Shore in this close, with the black dragons still active, even if that meant we'd have to deal with the drift hawks before this was over. There was always that back door Botts had talked about.

After brooding silently, with the nightmarish shadows dancing in the beams of our headlamps, Linnor said, 'Right. Let's get some light and power.'

That pushed Ivay out of her melancholy contemplation and sent her scrambling to find an intact emergency reactor/generator to get online – the work of a minute. As the scattered working lights blinked to life, Ivay exclaimed bravely, surveying her shattered domain, 'It doesn't appear to have been further damaged. Can we be so lucky?'

With the lights on, the engine room looked even more of a disaster as the full extent of the damage became apparent – platforms and ladders where twisted and hanging askew with piles of debris and large machines settled at the downward side of the engine room. Nevertheless, Ivay remained optimistic, even after she discovered that another meteor hit – a small one – had ruptured the fuel line to the remaining balancing engine. The balancing engine was still connected to the engine room control panel and the diagnostic data suggested it remained operable.

'How long will it take to repair the fuel line?' asked Linnor.

'A couple of hours. We've plenty of spare parts laying about,' Ivay replied ruefully. 'But I'd like to go over the engine again to make sure everything is in order before we fire it up again. I can have it up and running within two watches.'

Linnor considered that for several seconds and turned to me, 'I think that as long as we're here, we might as well get the ship off this rock and on its way. I rather doubt you'd care to bring your ship in this far in.'

'With the black dragon still active, getting caught in passage like we were, would be a potential disaster. So no,' I admitted, glad she'd said it first.

'Right. The sooner we lift the Azurete, the farther out we'll be when the next dragon strikes. No point lifting the ship until this eruption passes, so I think we can afford to take a watch off to rest. Might as well start fresh. I've a feeling getting the engine up and running will be the least of our problems. Getting it off this rock the way it now lies is going to be tricky.'

07

We had just returned to the longboat and were climbing out of our spacesuits when the longboat shifted under us – and its hull rattled and pinged with debris. Linnor raced for the control panel, as the rest of us quickly sealed our suits again.

'All systems are green,' she called out. 'But I think a meteor must have struck the ship – the port hatch looks askew...' And added, 'Damn, the skip fighter has been knocked about as well.'

Damn indeed. I'd been counting on that skip fighter...

'A ricochet hit, or are we now on the reef facing side of the moonlet?' I asked.

'I can't get a reading from above due to the hangar door, but from the side, I think I'm seeing micro meteors striking the crater floor, so I suspect we've just edged on to the reef side. Stay here, or make a run for the far side?'

'I'm just a passenger,' I replied. 'Your call.'

'Pax, Ivay?' she asked, poking her head out of the short companionway from the control compartment.

Pax shrugged.

'The hangar door should protect us from everything but a big one. A micro meteor might hole us when we're running for it. I say, let's stay,' said Ivay. Chief engineers have no problem expressing their opinion to captains.

Linnor nodded. 'We'll stay. I think we're at the tail end of the wave in any event.

There were no more alarms, so we ate, napped and went to work. The gig was undamaged but the skip fighter's port engine had been severely damaged by the meteor or debris from it. Nothing to be done about it, so Ivay and Pax went about repairing the fuel line and going over the engine while Linnor and I set up a remote control station for the Azurete in the longboat's small control compartment. That way, the ship – what was left of it – could be controlled remotely from the longboat. Accelerating on one steering engine could take it eight to ten weeks for it to reach a point where the Starry Shore could come alongside to take off her cargo. The longboat would likely be the only non-space suit environment and standing watch in a spacesuit is no fun.

Lifting the ship and its cargo, even with only a .02 gee gravity, was doable, but given the ship's position, looked to be iffy. Linnor showed me her calculations, but she had to estimate the resistance of the crater's surface to the movement of the ship and that was before the ship had been knocked askew. Any hidden rocks in the dust of the crater wall could impede this upward movement as well. Still, it was our best prospect, so I adopted Linnor's confident outlook. If it could be done, she'd do it. No point being too gloomy.

We finished our tasks – including test firing the engine briefly – by the end of the third watch.

'Shall we have a go now, or take a break?' she asked as we stood around the control panel on the engine room platform.

'Let's go for it,' was the universal response.

'Right,' she turned to me, 'Could I ask you to take the longboat out and monitor our progress. I don't have much in the way of working sensors and I'll need to know what's happening to the ship once we fire the engine in earnest.'

'Right,' I replied, though I suspected she was just getting me out of the way in case things went unexpectedly bad, so I added, 'But since you can run the whole show from the longboat, why not give that a test as well?'

She glanced at Ivay, and said, 'I think we need to be on hand to handle any unexpected anomalies. We can test the remote controls once we've lifted. Pax will get you a radio link that you can plant in the hangar so we can maintain in communication.'

I'd not do it any differently, so I said, 'Right,' and after Pax had handed me a relay, I made my way up through the ship. I set up the link and carefully slipped the longboat out into the broad, aurora lit crater and up to the crater rim with a clear view of the Azurete. We linked its sensors to the Azurete's engine room controls. And with that, we were ready to lift the battered Azurete.

With the working balancing engine on the underside of the ship, it sent a big plume of dust streaming outwards, and lit the dust and the crater walls around the ship, in a bright, golden light. After a long pause, the ship slowly began moving, meter by meter, mostly sideways, gradually skewing itself away from the top of the crater wall despite the firing of several steering rockets. Clearly, that wasn't going to work. Linnor called it quits.

'Stay where you are,' she radioed. 'We'll be out shortly.'

'What's the plan?'

'Plan B,' was all she said.

I waited the better part of an hour before the gig had blasted enough of the dust and debris clear to get out of the hangar door. It was followed a few minutes later by the limping skip fighter, piloted by Linnor, who maneuvered it with brief blasts from its undamaged engine.

Once the two boats had settled on the rim of the crater next to the longboat, Linnor radioed, 'I'm certain it's the surface drag which is preventing us from lifting. Ivay and Pax will transfer to the longboat so they can control the balancing engine and the steering engines from the remote station on the longboat. You can move over to the gig so that we'll have some flexibility. When you're ready, I'll send a missile or two into the crater wall under the ship's bow – the blast should lift the ship's bow and hopefully free enough of the ship's hull from the surface to get it off. If need be, I'll put more missiles under it to blow it free, since I don't have to worry – too much – about damaging the hull, all I need to do is just keep it intact. Any questions or suggestions?'

'Don't miss,' I said. It might work, if the explosions were big enough to lift the ship – but not destroy it...

'Right...' she replied. 'Not that it'll matter much...'

I swapped boats with Pax and Ivay, and on Linnor's signal, Ivay remotely fired the Azurete's engine at full bore, raising more dust as Linnor sent the first of the skip fighter's missiles into the crater wall, just under its bow. The bright blast skewed and slowly lifted the bow of the ship, as expected, and she followed it immediately with a second missile, further down. The ship reared up out of the cloud of dust and hung poised pointing towards the sky, half free of the crater wall, but still showing no sign of upwards movement. As it very slowly began to settle back down, Linnor fired a third missile again at the point where the ship came in contact with the ground, followed by a fourth, even further aft that blew the whole ship almost entirely clear of the crater wall – any further aft and she'd risk disabling the engine. Still, it hung there, poised to launch, barely visible in the great cloud of dust, its balancing rocket and remaining steering rockets bright specks of flame seen through the haze, poised unsupported and seemingly unmoving for what seemed like minutes.

'Lift, baby, go!' Pax muttered over the com link.

'Perhaps I can use the gig to give it a little push...' I mused out loud. There seemed enough of a gap between the ship and surface, and the single rocket left plenty of room for the boat to find a surface to push against...

'I think it's lifting!' exclaimed Linnor.

It took the sensor screen to show it, but it did appear to be rising, slow enough, at first, that I could've walked alongside of it, but lifting. Slowly it gained speed and within five minutes, cleared the crater wall. An hour later we were all back on board and laboriously setting a course for the Starry Shore, with its few working steering motors.

Three days later, with the Azurete slowly accelerating outbound, Molaye and Elena, along with Kie, Dici, and Sol, plus the cargo bots, set out in our longboat to help get the Azurete's cargo in shape for transfer. Elena and I took the longboat back. I'd my fill of wrecks and longboats.

08

I'd been back aboard the Starry Shore for only a day when Rafe alerted me that the first ship had appeared on our long range sensors. I stepped around to the bridge and watched its approach as Rafe worked to pull it into focus.

'Looks like deep space tug,' said Rafe, as the image on the screen began to take on a bird-like shape. It had multiple engine pods set on wide, wing-like struts allowing it to tow another ship behind the central hull.

'A vulture, not a hawk.'

'Perhaps,' said Rafe, and added, with a laugh, 'Exactly, in fact. We're getting a signal from the ship claiming to be the Vulture owned by Cho Salvage out of Carivon. You must be psychic Shall I respond?'

'Aye, standard reply. If they want a conversation, I'll be in my office,' I said, heading that way. I heard Rafe talking and as I swung into my office, the con link signal light blinked on my desk.

'Tern Cho, captain and owner of the Vulture, out of Carivon,' said Cho as I opened the com connection. 'Greetings, Captain Wilcrofter.'

'Greetings, Captain Cho,' I replied. Cho looked to be a burly, rumpled and squared off man with an easy smile, but shrewd eyes. There was a large yellow cat on his desk that was watching me as well. It looked a lot less rumpled and every bit as shrewd. But then, all cats appear to be shrewd.

'This is Skipper,' he said. 'He thinks he runs this boat.'

Skipper meowed.

'He says enough small talk,' Cho laughed. 'So on to business. We're sorry to have missed you on Carivon, Captain,' he said. 'You sailed before we'd a chance to talk. Not that I blame you, every hour counts in a venture like this. But in your haste, you left some business undone.'

'Oh? What was that?'

'Engaging my services. It would've only taken an hour.'

'I don't recall that on my schedule. Must be confusing us with some other party. I don't think we've any use for a salvage tug,' I replied thoughtfully – play acting and not even fooling the cat – while I called up his references on a second screen.

Skipper meowed and Cho smiled. 'Ol'Skipper here is not buying that, Captain. You're here to salvage the Azurete's cargo – a treasure ship by any reckoning – one that's sure to attract a lot of interest in the darker reefs. Skipper and I run a respectable salvage business and have a great deal of experience – we should've been consulted. But no matter. Here we are. We can talk now.'

I had his data up now, so there was no point stringing this out any longer, so I said, 'We've got everything in hand. I don't think we've anything to talk about.'

'We're not one to waste time, which is why I'm here first. However, I won't be the last. You're here to salvage the Azurete's cargo of gold and precious metals. I'm here to salvage the Azurete. There's no rivalry between us, so working together will benefit both of us. You can be sure the treasure seekers are on their way. I've extensive lines of informants all the way to Amdia so I may've gotten the word several days, perhaps a week, before everyone else, but the others will be arriving shortly. The Azurete's cargo will see to that.'

'So?'

'So, you need my help. The gold is neither dust nor gas to me. I'm here for the hull. And I'll get it, or a share of it, whether you object or not. But it doesn't have to be like that. If the Azurete is in that disruption ahead, and I'm sure it is, I'm willing to go in and tow it to a position where you can offload the cargo and be on your way before most of the other scavengers arrive, which makes my offer very valuable, I assure you.'

'You've come all this way to offer this service with no guarantee that we'd either need or accept it? A rather speculative proposition, Captain.'

'Not at all, Captain. The Cho Salvage Yards is a long established and reputable firm with extensive experience in recovery, towing, and salvage – as you now know, if you've looked us up in your Murvey's Ship Master's Guide. We're far more experienced and better equipped to get the job done expeditiously than you are. Perhaps the need for speed and secrecy trumped our expertise back on Carivon, but here it's a different story. I'm here now, and still offering my services at my standard fees on a per day basis. However, the longer you wait to agree, the higher the price will go.'

'Why? Why offer it at all, if you're only here for the hull?'

'Because we salvage operators have an informal agreement – if I don't have the hull in hand when the others arrive, I'll have to divide the profit with those on hand – we're businessmen, not pirates. But since I'm here first, I want it all, so the towing fee will be just something to make it all Guild legal. I'll make my profit from the hull.'

'I rather doubt we can just give you the hull,' I said.

'Oh, you don't have to. Let me worry about that. You'll have plenty of other things to worry about. The Azurete's cargo is so wildly valuable that it'll draw scavengers from all over this sector of the drifts. And since it is so large, it can be profitably shared by ad-hoc combines, if necessary. If you don't hurry, you won't stand a chance of keeping the gold. Or getting out alive, which is why I've no interest in the cargo...'

'None?'

'None whatsoever. It isn't worth my life, and that'd be its price. No. I just want the Azurete or what's left of her. That's my line of work. And, well, let's not be shy about this, the hull is of no consequence to you or the owners.'

'As I said, that's not for me to say...'

'Don't be coy. The hull is worthless to its owners here on the Kryver Coast and the cost of towing it to Carivon, much less Tradonia would be prohibitive. Trust me, I know the rates. I set' em. But there are credits to be made on it, and I intend to make them, and there's nothing you can do about that. If the owners want the hull, they can pay me my towage fees. Otherwise, I'll just pay the insurance company a nominal fee, which they'll be glad to get, and it's mine.'

'You've seen the sensor data. Do you really want to go into that mess?'

'Pulling wrecks out of reefs is routine for me. That's where you find 'em. The ol'Vulture's built for the work. I'll save you precious days no matter where the Azurete lies, which translates into a better chance of getting out of this affair alive. And trust me, you're going to need every chance you get that comes your way. I'd think that's worth a small fee... Don't you?' he asked and settled back in his chair, as Skipper, somehow, managed to look down on me from the screen, and dared me to disagree with a superior sounding 'meow'.

I had indeed called up Murvey's on the second screen and his credentials checked out. Plus, he called on a straight vid feed that allowed my com link AI to analyze his speech for truthfulness, which he easily cleared. His stake in the business was clear as well, so I felt I could take Cho at his word. And being more than three weeks away from rendezvous, any time saved would be well worth any reasonable charge. I knew Captain Cho wasn't exaggerating the siren call of this wreck.

'Fair enough, Captain,' I said. 'However, it's not my decision to make. I'll have to pass it along to my charter party and get back to you as soon as possible. But I'll just add, so we understand each other – I've been sailing the drifts for some years now, and I knew what this wreck would draw when I agreed to the charter. If I wasn't confident we could deal with whatever showed up, I wouldn't be here. That goes for everyone...'

His smile widened. 'Point taken. However, I believe my interests in this affair are clear-cut and convincing. As long as I stay clear of the cargo, I'll be safe. You, however, will need to look after yourself, and the longer you're here, the more likely you'll have to do it with missiles.'

'Right. I'll get back to you soon.'

'Good, and if you don't mind, I'll start in while you decide. Time is of the essence.'

'Start in. I don't see how we can refuse, but I need to confirm that,' I said.

I wasted no time signaling Linnor on the Azurete. I reached Kie, on watch in the long boat, and he transferred me to Linnor working in the hold. I briefed her on Captain Cho's proposal.

'Can we trust him?'

'The lie detecting AI cleared him and his interests are just as clear. So yes. And you do have the crippled skip fighter so you're not defenseless if he proves to be other than what he advertises to be.' Even crippled, the skip fighter could probably handle the Vulture.

'The problem is that I'm not authorized to hire additional help, nor am I in a position to just hand over my ship to this Cho fellow. It's up to the company to decide its disposition...'

'But you could turn a blind eye in the name of expediency.'

'I suppose, though you didn't hear me say that.'

'Good. I'm sure everyone on Tradonia knows the eventual fate of the Azurete. It's just that now we can put a name to it and they can deal with him when the time comes. As for the fee to haul you out, I'll pay it out of my charter fee – it'll be worth it to me, assuming it's reasonable, so you'd need not concern yourself with that either.'

'Right. With the understanding that you're paying his fee – and that he can indeed get the ship out significantly faster than what we can on our own, send him in,' she said.

09

Negotiations with Cho took two minutes. Once he had the Azurete's current position, he gave me a solid delivery time – nine days, saving us at least nineteen – to tow it into a position where I'd be comfortable coming alongside and transferring cargo, and at a fee that I could easily justify with my charter fee alone, not counting our share of the salvage. That he planned to keep the hull and tow it all the way to Carivon was not on the record. With the agreement signed, the Vulture fired its powerful rockets and was plunging into the plume using data from our chain of drones.

Three days later a second ship arrived on the scene, a drift trader turned hawk by the looks of it on the sensor. It remained silent and hung out of missile range, content to hang off, watch, and wait for the golden cargo to be delivered. I didn't lose – too much – sleep over a single drift hawk. The crippled skip fighter would be fairly useless in a fight, but with Botts aboard, I was certain we could handle any pirate or two that turned up. Botts would only defend us from their attacks, but I could handle them more roughly if the need arose. My years in the drifts seems to have sanded off a bit of my Unity Standard scruples.

A second hawk arrived the following day, and then a third and fourth, which pushed me to edge the Starry Shore deeper into the plume to rendezvous with the Azurete and Vulture a day earlier than planned. I felt the slightly elevated danger of meteors was justified by the accumulating drift hawks in the offing. They drifted closer as well, keeping us in sensor range but out of missile range. Two days later we rendezvoused with the Azurete and Vulture.

The fact that the Azurete had been under tow had made handling the dense boxes much more awkward so they were not as prepared for the transfer as I'd have liked – but any planet in a quantum storm – we'd deal with it. The Vulture ceased its acceleration once I was in position, hatch to hatch, above the Azurete with a clear path to fire missiles from either side.

Using our ship's cranes and the cargo 'bots, we began transferring the small, but dense, quarter boxes of gold out of the Azurete battered holds. Six of the boxes had been breached, but the salvage crew had managed to collect most of the loose gold ingots and secured them in cargo nets. Nearly sixty of the 196 quarter boxes had been torn from their docks, damaging their docking connectors. These we transferred first, stacking them against the after bulkhead of no. 3 hold and lock them in with a solid stack of properly secured boxes. Working around the clock, we completed the transfer in just under five days. Those five days, however, saw the appearance of six more ships on the fringe of the meteor plume, patiently awaiting either the completion of our work or the arrival of confederates.

'What do you make of them, Tern?' I asked the salvage tug skipper, who, with his first mate, and cat, I'd invited on board to hand over the CreditToken, a final confab, and dinner.

'Well, Willy, they don't advertise who they are. The two tugs I know, of course. They don't count. They're just hanging around now to see if they can get what's left of your hull after the hawks have picked it over. The other eight are here for the gold. Of those, the two small drifteers, don't count either. They're hyenas hoping for a small cut by helping out, or if things get nasty while picking over the corpse of your ship, grabbing a box or two in the fray. Three of the tramps look to be independent operators. There's plenty of gold to go around, so, should the big hawks decide to form an ad hock fleet to insure success, they're hoping to be invited to join that fleet. That said, the ones who you're going to have to deal with are these three 60 box drift tramps, here, here and here,' he said, pointing them out on the view-panel. 'They're too similar and too carefully positioned to be anything but from one outfit. Since any drift hawk who gets this prize will have to keep it as well, the prudent ones will've come in force. Those 60 boxers are pretty big ships for your standard issue, freelance drift hawk, which suggests that they're from a big outfit – deep drift traders who dabble in piracy when the chance offers itself. If I was a betting man, I'd say you're looking at Falcon Rock Transport and Mining ships.'

'Pretty formidable, I suppose.'

'Aye, they've a reputation for ruthlessness. What's more, they'll likely have more in their forward holds than cargo boxes on this voyage. I suspect they likely have missile modules installed, so you're going to be facing three small warships, and good luck with that. Hope you came as prepared as you suggested you were.

'We've a full and varied magazine and an A-level targeting system, armed drones, and a skip fighter.'

'Which is crippled.'

'I've got the engineers working on replacing the damaged engine now. It won't be as good as new, but it'll be serviceable if and when we need it. It alone seemed to have kept the drift hawks at bay all these years.'

'Well, the Azurete was never the sitting duck like you are. And you can bet that they're aware of it as well, since they sent three ships. And as businessmen, they're not going to risk getting a ship knocked up on a fifty-fifty proposition, which is why I'm thinking they sent three virtual warships ships to make it cut and dry. Truthfully, Willy, I'm glad I'm not in your orbit.'

'I'm not jumping for joy either. Can we deal with them?'

'They might offer you a deal, but I'd advise against taking it. You're unlikely to get out with your lives no matter what they promise. The dead tell no tales. Either take to the reef and hope to evade three ships, or run fast and hard and hope that your anti-missile missiles don't run out before their missiles do.

'The one thing you've got going for you, is that they want your cargo intact, so they'll have to be mighty careful not to blow your ship to atoms. No market for gold vapor. They'll be sending inert missiles into your engine and crew sections. (Missiles with dense D-matter heads that punch holes in ships, but have no exploding warhead.) You, on the other hand, should try your Neb-blasted damnedest to destroy them – meaning they'll have to approach you cautiously and with overwhelming force when they do. With a lot of luck, you might be able to lead them on a long, long chase. But I'll tell you this, Wil, if they're Falcon Rock ships, they'll have over-sized engines in 'em and good luck trying to outrun them,' he shook his head sadly. 'Good luck is about all you can count on, Willy.'

'Do you think they'd settle for a few boxes pushed out the hatch to save themselves the trouble and the risk of either blowing up the gold or getting blown up? Even a quarter box of gold would do far more than pay their expenses,' I asked, thinking of ploys.

'It wouldn't hurt to try – as a last resort... Though they might just leave it for the small fry with a full cargo of them for the taking.' he said. 'If you've any empty boxes aboard you'd want to get rid of them in the chase. Make'em think. Bring any along any?'

'No, I should've thought of that. Oh, well, we'll just have to deal with them. I went into this with my eyes open,' I admitted.

He gave me a look and shook his head. 'You should be more worried, Willy.'

I should've been, because on the face of it, there was no apparent reason for my confidence. I was worried, but then it was my job to worry. But the rest of my crew were too Neb-blasted carefree, largely on account of the fact that Botts was so Neb-blasted carefree. Just like it'd been when it claimed driving through the Despar Reef was as safe as a run to the moon and back. (And look how that turned out.) Most of them had either witnessed Botts in action, or heard not only the yarns about that incident, but all the yarns Botts spun of its days as the captain of Viletre "Villain" Viseor's yacht which seemed to have been used for some very un-yachty ventures. For a vastly rich First World businessperson, Viseor had a lot of strange dealings deep in the drifts. In any event, we weren't as concerned as a Unity Standard Guild tramp crew should've been in the face of half a dozen armed drift hawks hungry for gold. And that showed.

I shrugged. 'Trust me, I didn't take this charter without figuring we'd have to fight our way out. We've the smartest missiles and most up to date control and guidance system available. Plus, the skip fighter and the armed drones. I hope they're good businessmen, who, when we make it clear that it'll cost them dearly, and that we'd blow the cargo to atoms ourselves rather than let them have it, they will decide to settle for a box or two, and their lives... We can afford that.'

Tern sighed, shook his head and sipped his drink. 'A hundred thousand tons of gold will make men do some very foolish things, I think.' And gave me a meaningful look.

I had to smile and say, 'Yah, I guess so.'

Once the boxes were aboard and secured, we said good-bye to Tern Cho and the Vulture, who was in a hurry to get clear with the battered Azurete in tow. I don't blame him. We were still working on installing the replacement engine for the skip fighter, but I decided not to wait on that. Fixing it was mostly for show – I was trusting Botts, and so I didn't care to stick around for more drift hawks to arrive. Once clear of the wreck, I set our course for Amdia after deciding that running into the Kryver would only delay action. And once clear of the meteor plume, I gave Molaye orders to bring the ship up to mark 7. All ten of our shadows began to accelerate along the line of our course a well. The three suspected Falcon Rock ships converged, the five smaller drift hawks hung back, but not too far back, and the two tugs followed behind, optimistic they'd find business sooner or later, if we weren't blown to atoms.

10

'You realize, Captain, that despite my attachment to you and my shipmates, I can do no more than defend this ship,' said Botts as I looked in on it in the tech office to plan our response to the drift hawks.

I had the real Botts locked in the tech systems office where it could be directly connected to the ship and fire control. Keeping critical offices like the tech and environmental secured when guests were about was considered standard procedure, and needed no explanation. We'd gotten Botts II out of storage to keep Botts at large in the ship for our guest's sake while he was standing guard.

I'm certain, however, that our guests, having been aboard for nearly half a year, had questions about Botts. Secrets are hard to keep aboard a ship, and both Botts and the crew did only the minimum to keep its secret. Since Botts could monitor the ship's systems, it always knew where our guests were at any time, and would tone down its banter when they were present. Slightly. I rather doubt Linnor or her crew totally bought into the story that Botts was a legal gentleman's bot, since it turned up all over the ship in places where it made no sense for it to be – like brewing a mug of cha for me in my office when Linnor looked in, or helping Riv in the engineering workshop when Ivay happened by. Nor did Botts' tone down its very outgoing personality profile, so that it displayed an awful lot of leeway for a legal class 4 AI machine in its interactions with humans. Even its explanation – that it had spent many decades serving owners in the drifts, where its interface program had picked up its free and easy ways – seemed pretty thin. As did its explanation for all the yarns it spun in our guests' company – 'I was stocked with an extensive library of space adventure fiction of the most improbable kind to please my former drift owners.' All of which, was, of course, a lie – which it shouldn't be able to do as a non-sentient machine – mind you. Still, what could I do? I'm pretty sure they suspect it wasn't a legal machine, in the end, if they wanted it tested, Botts II would be proven legal, so any doubts anyone may've had, would remain just that – unfounded doubts.

'Aye,' I said. 'I'll see to the offensive end of things should that prove necessary. We can share the targeting system, can't we?'

'Oh yes. That will pose no problem. Just fire as you normally would – I can work around your actions.'

'Good. Here's how I see things. There's no doubt what these ships want and what we can expect from them. I've no intention of negotiating with anything other than missiles. Their hands are tied since they need the cargo undamaged. Tern tells me that we can expect additional missile batteries hidden in their cargo holds of those three large tramps. Those should be unmanned, so I'd appreciate it if you can see your way clear to destroying them as well as their regular missile launch tubes. I can then take what action is necessary after we've de-fanged them.'

'I can deal with both missile batteries. As you say, any missile battery in the hold will be automatic and I will destroy them with live missiles. I'll use inert ones to batter the standard missile launch tubes and engine rooms, where any causalities could be considered accidental. I've experience in dealing with pirates back in the old days, and I can say that there's little is to be gained by negotiations with anything other than missiles. My programming prioritizes defending my owners, and while I can't blow the pirates to atoms, I can neutralize their threat even if doing so theoretically puts humans at risk.'

'Excellent. Do you think we need to deploy the skip fighter?'

'It'll only get in my way.'

'Right. That's what I was thinking. We'll save it if things don't go as planned.'

'Everything is in order. I don't anticipate things not going as planned...'

'Better safe than sorry, though,' I said, but thought best not mention the Despar Reef... It ignored me.

'...I'll use the drones' sensors to fine tune my responses and their missiles to attack from multiple angles, so I anticipate any action to be short and as decisive as you care to make it. And if I might be so bold, Captain, it would be best if you fired first to make it decisive. I can't, my programming limits that, but my programming doesn't limit me to seeing the need for it to be done, sir.'

I nodded, grimly. 'I appreciate that Botts. I'm Unity Standard enough not to want to do it, but I've seen too much of the drifts not to know what's best to do. Your orders are to eliminate their missile batteries as quickly as possible, I'll take it from there. I'll initiate the broadside as soon as they commit themselves to action, and you can reply to their response. Good shooting, Botts.'

They took their time – the three most dangerous ships anyway. They remained silent and carefully positioned themselves to bracket us from three sides. The rest of the drift hawks hung back, content to watch the show. We were deep in the drifts, near nowhere at all, so they had plenty of time to make their move and had apparently decided to use some of it to unnerve and wear us down and put the rest of the hawks astern. Botts didn't wear down, and while I worried, I also knew that the gold would have to be paid for sooner or later, so I didn't let the delay bother me – too much. We kept accelerating at mark 7.5 and by day five, we'd only the three Falcon Rock ships to contend with. It seemed that the Falcon Rock hawks weren't going to share the gold, so they held off any action until they had the field to themselves.

It was late in that fifth day when they decided to make their play. Our advanced sensors on the drones alerted us to subtle changes in our shadows as they began to close in. I was napping in my quarters when word reached me. Rafe relayed the detailed sensor data from the drones showing that the ships had slightly altered their appearance – they were now showing a bump in their forward cargo holds, no doubt a weapons turret, and they were now out-accelerating us to close.

'I have the targets locked in, Captain,' said Botts via the com link speaker in my ear as I stared at the screen on the bulkhead. 'With our first volley I'll target the weapon turrets with our main batteries and use the drones to disable their standard missile batteries. I'll follow up as needed. After that you can deal with them as you want.'

'If we can disable their armaments, I'll give them time to take to their boats, but I intend to destroy the ships no matter what.'

'I will alert you if things don't go as planned on my part,' said Botts.

'And how likely is that?' I asked suddenly wearily.

'A mere reflection that we live in a quantum universe, Captain, where the unexpected can happen. I anticipate no such quantum event.'

'Right. Launch as soon as I fire my initial volley, and don't cease until you've eliminated their offensive capabilities. I'll stay out of your way until you do.'

'Will do, sir,' it replied.

I walked on to the bridge. 'Action stations, space suits everyone. Evacuate and seal the engine room when everyone is clear. Get the hounds and cats into their boxes. We'll be in action within 30 minutes.'

'Should Pax take out the skip fighter?' Linnor asked.

'Let's hold off on that for now,' I replied. A substitute engine had been installed – it was only half as powerful, making the fighter less than half as effective. 'I believe we can deal with the situation.'

She gave me a questioning look, but said nothing more. It was my ship.

'Steady as she goes, Dici,' I said as I looked over the plot. 'We'll rely on our missiles rather than maneuvers for defense.'

'Steady as she goes,' he repeated, with a tense grin – he'd heard our tales of the Boscone Reef, but not seen Botts in action.

Rafe was calmly manning the lookout station and Lilm at the bridge's engineer's station. Neither of them looked the least alarmed.

'Rafe, will you take the weapons station? M'Ley will fill in for you at lookout,' I said. Old Rafe was going to play the part of my ace weapons officer. I'm pretty sure he could actually play the part, though this time he'd be playacting.

A very serious Captain Linnor was dividing her attention between the view-panels and the crew who were slowly assembling on the bridge. I don't think she could quite understand the casualness of the crew. She gave me a look.

'We've been here before, Captain,' I said. 'Rafe's a missile-wizard.'

She nodded, and looked back at the view-panel.

I took my place at the auxiliary com station next to Rafe who was playing with the missile launch controls while we waited for the drift hawks to get in range.

And we waited. They were still playing the pressure game.

'They're in range now, Captain,' said Botts in my com link ear speaker.

'Take action on my order to launch,' I said quietly to Rafe, and Botts softly via my com link.

'Understood, Captain,' it replied.

'Aye, Willy,' Rafe said, with a wink.

My com screen came to life with an incoming signal. I activated it and watched a face appear on the screen before me. A lean man smiled from the captain's chair on the bridge of one of the three ships.

'Greetings Captain Wilcrofter,' he began. 'I trust that by now you realize your position is hopeless. We have overwhelming force. Now, we can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard...'

'Launch,' I said.

Rafe struck his launch keys sending out just three missiles to draw their first, automatic response. As soon as their response launched, Botts launched missiles from the two armed drones to draw their second wave of anti-missile missiles away from the Starry Shore's main attack. The ship shuttered as Botts launched three full salvos from both sides of the ship as fast as the missiles loaded. Those were followed by three more as the targeting sensors latched on to their targets through the turmoil of exploding missiles in the space around us. We caught them off guard – in both timing and the massiveness of our attack. Their only response was an automatic launch of anti-missiles.

As I watched the com screen, the hard smiling face on my screen gasped in surprise and disappeared in static as the missiles – ours and their anti-missile missiles met in a series of brilliant explosions that disrupted radio contact. Their anti-missiles, however, failed to completely counter our massive launch from three sources. Within seconds, all three of the drift hawks' forward weapons turrets were blown apart in shearing flashes of flame and debris. Botts fired two more salvos of inert missiles aimed at smashing the drift hawks' main missile tubes and holes in their engine rooms. These launches were met with only sporadic and ineffective anti-missile fire, so most of our missiles reached their target. As our visual sensors stabilized with the fading explosions, I could see all the banks of the drift hawks' missile launch tubes where battered and their engine room hulls smashed in and holed.

'Well done,' I said quietly.

'Thank you, sir,' Botts replied in my ear's com link speaker.

Rafe grinned and exclaimed. 'Why it was nothing at all, Skipper. I could've done it my sleep.'

I took a deep breath and felt my gut untwisting – a little. There was, however, still work to be done.

With the end of the action, the disrupted radio connection came back on line and I could hear the smiling pirate brawling angry orders amongst shouts, screaming alarms and the groaning of his battered ship. He wasn't seen, no doubt knocked about when our missiles tore into his ship. I watched shadows and crew moving about, silencing the alarms as pieces of the ship floated about. After several minutes, the captain, showing some wear and tear, climbed back into his chair and looked around angrily.

'You've twenty minutes to abandon your ship before I send in the big ones. That goes for all the other ships as well,' I said – startling him – he'd forgotten the link was still live. 'I'm Unity Standard enough to give you time to take to your boats, but I've been in the drifts long enough to know how affairs like this are settled. I'm going to destroy your ships, abandoned or not, in twenty minutes.'

The Falcon Rock captain cursed, raged, and threatened fluently for half a minute before cutting the connection. I'd sent regular and laser broadcasts of my warning to all of the ships, and updated the broadcast every minute, counting down the minutes. I'd destroy the ships – the drifts would be a better place without them, and well, dead men can extract no revenge. And likely the drifts would be a better place without them, too.

At the thirteen minutes' count, two boats left one of the ships and a minute later, the second ship followed suit. The screen came alive again and I was facing the pirate chief once more, standing on his bridge.

'I've no intention of abandoning my ship. And I have a hostage, Lady Villa, taken off the Chartered Trading Company ship Zephyr not two months ago. She'll die if I must,' he growled and pulled a pretty woman roughly into view.

'Please Captain, spare me!' she pleaded, wildly.

'Better death than dishonor, milady,' I said gravely, adding. 'You've got seven minutes to get Lady Villa, your crew, and yourself to your boats before I launch my final volley. You haven't time to waste on theatrics.' I cut the connection.

'Captain?' said Linnor, giving me a somewhat startled look.

'It's just an act. No doubt one of the crew. No CTC ship would be captured by a drift hawk like him.'

'You can't be sure,' she replied.

'Sure enough for the drifts,' I replied and turned to my screen. I was sure, sure enough not to give it a second thought. I was not anxious to kill even the pirates, but I would, and Lady Villa with them, if necessary.

As soon as the boats of the first abandoned ship were far enough off to be safe, I had Rafe target it, and I launched a big anti-meteor missile at it. It disappeared in a blinding flash. I waited another minute, for effect, and repeated the performance against the other ship. At the twenty-minute mark the third ship still had not taken to their boats. I sighed, told Rafe to cue up two inert missiles and launched them at the pirate chief's ship. The ship managed to launch several anti-missiles from its far-side missile battery, destroying one of mine, but the other hit home, punching another hole in the engine room.

I opened the com channel again. 'Final warning. The next one will be big and alive. I'll give you three more minutes to abandon ship before I fire, but that's my limit. I don't have a choice now. I've destroyed the other ships and it wouldn't be fair to spare yours. Plus, I can't afford to look like I was just bluffing. I don't want anyone getting the idea that they can get out with their lives and their ship.'

He didn't reply, but his boats left a minute later, and I blew the ship to atoms as soon as they were far enough away. There'd be little more than debris clouds for the trailing drift hawks and tugs to salvage, unless they wanted to salvage the half a dozen ships' boats we left behind. I'd imagine there was some credits in that.

It had been all very businesslike. I've become a drifteer, or as close to one as someone raised in the Unity could become.

### Part Nine – Ghosts

### Chapter 67 The Ghosts' First Stirring

I haven't been told our planet of call and our course is shrouded in secrecy, but that's the way we operate now. This is my last voyage as captain, and it's only a courtesy – I just follow the orders I'm given. The engines are silent; the ship is silent. Everyone but me is in their sleeper-pods. Except Botts. It doesn't sleep. I'm not ready for sleep just yet. It'll all be different when I wake up again. Assuming I do. So I think I'll use this time to bring my memoir up to date.

I'll only touch on most relevant events. There are many yarns to spin, many of them not my own to spin. I'll let the main characters tell their tales, if they dare. Others, I could spin, but seem, now, to be minor tales, tales I might set down on the quiet nights on the porch of my bungalow, surrounded by my cha trees and the nebula, far overhead, far away. And that's an iffy dream.

So to start, I must to go back four years, to our safe arrival in Tradonia orbit, with the treasure in our holds. It took six days to validate our salvage claim with the various parties involved. The actual payment could not be made until the cargo was sold and its exact value determined – the better part of seven months. I knew our 1/12th share of the salvage would be worth a fortune, but I was still amazed at how much 16 quarter containers of gold, silver, platinum and rare earths and minerals were worth – for Tallith Min. We stayed in Tradonia orbit only long enough to complete the documentation. I wanted to put as much distance between Molaye and Linnor as possible, as quickly as possible.

They did, as agreed, suspend their partnership upon arrival in Tradonia. Linnor, being older, wiser, and perhaps more cool-headed, had insisted on that – though not without doubts which I could plainly see. Molaye very reluctantly agreed, and was so heartbroken that I feared she might choose to stay on Tradonia, regardless. I probably did her an injustice, but I wasn't about to take the chance. I'd invested too much time and effort in my first mate to risk losing her, so I sailed for Baidora with only ten boxes as soon as I could clear the red tape. Molaye didn't object, but was very quiet and withdrawn. I hoped time and youth would heal the heartache soon enough. It wasn't as if they'd quarreled or fallen out, it was simply a matter of expediency. Their careers would, at least, span several more decades, keeping them apart, which likely gave them pause...

I found a full shipload of boxes wait for us in Baidora including 57 boxes for Shantien. Apparently the Starry Shore was now the unofficial official supplier to Shantien. As much as I wanted to give the drifts a miss and concentrate on building an interplanetary business, especially after making even more enemies in the drifts, I found I couldn't pass on a 101 box load on our old familiar route. And, well, I still wanted to put more time and distance between Molaye and Linnor. So six days later, loaded and fueled, we left once more on our old run, Creylin, to Vilin's Rock, to Dortag on to Shantien, and finally Hendin, where we turned about for drift stations of D'Jin and Lyrina, and the small drift world of Ravin. We experienced an engine shutdown on the Lyrina to Ravin run. Fortunately, it proved to be just a pin hole leak that could be plugged, no doubt a souvenir of our time in the Kryver Reef meteor plume.

It was on Ravin that the first ghost stirred.

Xin VonBrey, our agent on Ravin, pinged me as we finished unloading the dozen boxes we had for Ravin. 'Greeting Captain,' he began as his image came on the screen, 'I've just received a commission to offer an open-ended charter to the Starry Shore at Guild standard plus a drift work premium rate. Interested?'

My answer was prompt and decisive. 'No. Not in the least.'

'Not even in learning more?'

'No. I'm sticking to the rocks I know.'

'The charter with the premium pays rather well.'

'Don't need the credits.'

'I'd imagine not,' he said, with a sigh for his commission. 'Heard about your salvage. Just doing my job. I suspect that your reputation for not being shy, and a Guild ship to boot, makes you an attractive charter for certain kinds of drift work.'

'Don't be fooled. I'm very shy, just lucky. Or unlucky, I'm not sure which. And I don't even want to think about what certain kinds of drift work you're talking about. Not interested, Xin.'

'Right. I'll pass along your polite refusal.'

I'd just finished my nightly rounds, when Elana, on watch, pinged me to say I'd another signal from VonBrey.

'Guild charter rates plus a hazardous bonus, one-year guarantee paid in advance. Still no recognizable name attached,' he said, adding, 'Just doing my duty.'

'Well Xin, it's still no, and you can add never to my refusal.'

The following day I receive this radio-packet text message,

Litang, I understand you rejected my offers out of hand. I shouldn't have to point out to you that it's your owner who makes these decisions, not you. Please have your owner respond to my offer. I can assure her there is nothing in my offer that a Guild ship would balk at performing, there are no risks involved beyond the ordinary drift work which you are currently engaged in. The hazardous duty bonus is merely an added incentive.

While I regret the necessity of keeping the exact nature of the charter secret at this point, all will be made clear as soon as the charter is signed or a meeting with your owner can be arranged. Please see to it now.

Banton & Co. will handle all further details concerning a meeting or your instructions upon the receipt of your acceptance.

I sat staring at that message, trying to calm my racing heart and trying to make some sense of it. Litang was as dead as the Lost Star, so who not only knew my old name but the sex of the ship's owner as well? That fact alone had been a well-kept secret back in our Azminn days – though it may've become common knowledge when Vinden's estate cleared the Ministry of Death. Calissant tramp ship owners keep a very close eye on each another. My first thought was that it had to be either Min, Tenry or Vynnia, trying to contact me. But this obscure method made no sense. St Bleyth or the Legion simply made no sense either. So who, on this small, out of the way drift world would recognize us as the Lost Star, and what did they want with us?

I signaled VonBrey, 'Who is Banton & Co?'

'It's some small trading company. Why?'

'I received the charter offer directly, saying that Banton would relay our instructions. I'm trying to figure out who's behind this offer.'

'Sorry Wil, haven't a clue. I was curious myself, so I've looked into it, but the trail leads nowhere. Banton & Co, is one of a dozen small deep drift trading companies who have offices or drop boxes here. I really doubt you'd find anything more from Banton & Co. They're likely just acting as a middleman. I really don't know what to make of it. I haven't heard anything out of the deeper drifts that could connect with the offer.'

'Well, thanks Xin. I think we'll sail hollow this time around. I don't have a good feeling about this...'

'Oh, my poor commission,' he laughed. 'But I don't blame you. Fair orbits, Captain.'

I replied to the radio packet via Banton & Co,

Sir. I am afraid you are under some sort of mistaken impression. As a check of Guild records will confirm, my name is Wilcrofter and we are operated by Dyzran Tan & Co out of LaTrina. My sailing instructions give me full operating authority to accept or reject charter offers and I can assure you, we are not interested in your offered charter under any terms.

Nives Wilcrofter, Captain, Starry Shore

### Chapter 68 Refit

01

I made five decisions on our Ravin to Baidora passage.

First, that I was done with drift work. Period. The message on Ravin was the final straw. I'd no clue if it was or was not a threat, but it was simply one mystery too many. It was the safety and certainty of the Unity and interplanetary trade for me and my ship, no matter how poorly it paid.

Second, that it was now time to repair the main engine bell, move the engine back to its proper place and add an outer shield to the main engine as well. An outer shield is a petal like arrangement of panels that could be closed over the rocket bell when it was not in use, protecting it from stray micro meteors that might damage its lining. It was unnecessary in the interplanetary trade and considered something of a luxury even in the drifts, but after two engine shutdowns, and an uncertain future always in the offing – never knowing if or when we might have to run or be called to the drifts by Min, I decided adding the shielding now, in our general refit would be prudent. We could afford it.

Thirdly, I decided to have permanent fuel tanks installed in no. 1 hold replacing the temporary 30 box array we'd been leasing for the last six plus years. Like the shielding, we didn't need them for planetary work or even in the drift work we've been engaged in, but they had come in handy in our escape from Despar, and I wanted to retain that option. The tanks would permanently reduce our cargo capacity by 24 boxes, but that capacity is not required for profitability and I've yet to turn away boxes with the current 30 box set, so I could justify their addition with an eye towards making the ship more useful to Min at some future date.

And as long as we were going to be laid up, we might as well give the ship a new protective coat of color as well. The coating protected the thin outer, anti-radiation layer of the hull from erosion. It may take decades of space travel to erode the D-rad layer to a point where it'd lose its effectiveness, but now seemed a good time to renew it. With my intention of breaking into the interplanetary trade, it wouldn't hurt business to look prosperous. We settled on a powder blue hull with dark blue trim. Captain Miccall kept the Lost Star's hull well-worn and ordinary, which has worked to our advantage, but if we ever have to run again, it will be to the far side of the Nebula, so looking distinctive seemed no great disadvantage.

Finally, I decided to increase our defensive armament by adding a twin turret anti-missile battery also in no.1 hold along with the new fuel tanks. The whole system only took up the space of two containers, but included two small pop-up turrets that could be raised out from both the upper and lower hull, each of which could launch six anti-meteors (actually anti-missile) missiles at a time, guided by a dedicated A-level fire control (that Botts would {illegally} upgrade). Only the fact that the system could be classified as an anti-meteor/defensive system made it available in the Unity. The magazine would hold three thousand missiles, though I'd no intention of fully stocking it as long as we were in the interplanetary trade. Didn't want to look like we were planning to turn pirate. Still the fact that I could never rule out returning to the drifts made the purchase justifiable. I had enemies with long memories. All this work would put a big dent in our credit reserves, but with our salvage windfall in the offing, I wasn't concerned.

Back in Baidora orbit, I put the work out for bids and based on price and recommendations, I selected the Re'Tze Shipyards of Constina, with one small misgiving. As far as I knew, my grandmother, Zilantha V'Ran (the grandmother from the drifts) owned a spaceers' row dive on Constina. She and Mother weren't close, and I'd met her only once. I was a teenager when she visited us for the first and last time. Interstellar travel is not cheap, so visits would naturally be rare, but I believe her visit was the first time they'd crossed orbits since Mother ran off to space. I gather there'd been issues between them growing up, that were still only partially resolved. I remember Grandma V'Ran as being somewhere in those long middle years, looking – and acting – like Mother's rather hard-boiled sister. The issue was that to maintain the pretense of trading deep in the drifts I'd asked everyone not to contact their families. So if I called on my grandmother, I'd not only be breaking that understanding, but perhaps giving away our whole deception, given the nature of her business. My plan was simply to steer well clear of Constina's spaceers' row for the duration of our stay.

02

We had seven weeks before the shipyard could start work, leaving a month to get some tramping in, if I cared to. Which I didn't. We all needed a break – and with the crew's leave time piling up after our years in the drifts, the refitting provided a good opportunity to clear some of that time. So with the contract signed, we sailed direct to Constina with a dozen odd boxes. On arrival I gave the crew an eight weeks leave downside.

Molaye booked a sleeper berth on an express packet to Tradonia, but the rest of the crew found plenty to do on Constina. It proved to be a very pleasant planet, reminding me of my home world of Faelrain. Its cities were larger, since it was one of the prime worlds of Amdia, but once they were left behind, it was all lush rural countryside that became rustic, fading to almost wild on the fringes. There were oceans, beaches and mountains to explore. Riv was delighted to find zeps in common usage for travel outside of the cities, so he and Lilm hired a zep yacht and spent their leave sailing the skies of the southern continent together with various shipmates as guests. For Dici and Elana this was their first chance to experience a real planet beyond spaceers' row and they, along with Kie, quickly took up zep piloting under Riv's tutelage and hired one of their own to sail the planet. When not floating above it, the rest of the crew found plenty of other activities to keep them busy, sometimes together sometimes on their own.

With the exception of a week when Illy took my harbor watch to allow me a zep cruise with Riv, Lilm, Rafe and Lili, I spent my time keeping watch with Botts, the mutts and cats aboard ship. Botts could keep watch alone, of course, but that wouldn't lift in the Unity. Still, with it on watch I felt free to slip away and go downside whenever I cared to for a day. I found, however, that unlike the last time I had the harbor watch with Dyn, in Calissant orbit, I was at ease. It was my ship by now and Botts is far better company than Dyn ever was, with its unending store of old spaceer stories from eleven thousand years ago, when all sorts of now banned technology was still in use, giving them an almost fantasy quality.

To my surprise, Molaye returned two days before the start of the refit. She couldn't have spent more than a week with Linnor on Tradonia.

'Did everything go well?' I asked with some concern.

'Oh, yes. But Fey was deep in work getting her new ship ready to sail, and well, a first mate's duty is to the ship and to look after her captain. I didn't want to miss all the activity.'

'It wasn't necessary,' I said.

'Yes it was. I've no intention of being any less devoted to my profession than Fey,' she replied. 'We had enough time together. And I've work to do here, as well.'

That's Molaye. Competitive, even when it comes to being a competent spaceer.

The engineering staff arrived the following day, for they, too, wanted to be on hand while their precious engine was restored.

03

Molaye breezily planted herself in one of the chairs on the awning deck next to me, a week after work had begun. 'We're going to have to sign on a new engineer.'

'A new engineer?'

'Aye. Myes is in love,' she replied with a smile.

I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair, only to catch her smiling when I looked up.

'Myes is in love...'

'Riv tells me this is a regular thing with him. In fact, it's long overdue. I gather we just sign on a temporary engineer until it blows over and he catches up with us again.'

'Aye, that's the usual procedure,' I admitted. The half-life of Myes's love affairs was about three months. He'd fallen in love two times during my time on board the Lost Star. Miccall would log him on leave, sign on a temp engineer and wait for him to either catch up, or be waiting for the ship when it came around again.

'Is he planning to tell me personally, or is he sending you as his messenger?'

'Oh, I think he'll tell you himself, eventually. But he wanted me to break the news to you first. He was scared to do so himself.'

'Scared of me?'

'Scared of seeing you sigh and run your fingers through your hair. It'd have broken his tender heart,' she replied.

'But you don't mind?'

'I'm used to it.'

I sighed again. 'Well's there's nothing to be done but sign on a temp engineer. Do we know who his love is this time?'

'Aye, one of the shipyard gang. Nadde Zoe. You know her.'

'After only a week?'

'Ah, young love,' sighed Molaye, sarcastically. 'And it's spring, somewhere.'

'Yah. Well, at least I can't fault his choice,' I replied. We had invited the shipyard crew on board every shift for their meal break, letting them use the awning deck to eat and relax, so I'd gotten to know them. Nadde Zoe was a bright, cheerful, and spirited sparrow of a woman. Since she was also something of an engineer, they had a lot in common, though Myes was hardly a cheerful sparrow of a guy. Still, beneath his rather gruff exterior he's pretty tenderhearted. I rarely saw him angry, and never knew him to act like you'd expect him to act according to the way he looks.

'We'd better sign on someone we can live with. Nadde might be the one. He has never fallen in love with an engineer before. Besides, he was bound to find the right one sooner or later...' I said.

'Nice of you to take that attitude. He was rather concerned about how you'd take it.'

'Well, if we only lose one of the crew after this extended stay, I'll be happy. I'm not sure about Rafe. He's been aboard us far longer than his usual custom. We'll have to see if this break is enough or if he decides to stay downside, in which case we'd have to sign on an environmental engineer as well...'

'Don't make trouble we don't have.'

'Right. anyway, tell Myes I'm comfortable with his decision, approve of his choice, and he can see me when he dares. We'll have a farewell feast for the happy couple before we sail,' I added.

'Right,' replied Molaye rising, adding, 'You'd have broken his poor heart you know, what with your long suffering sigh and gracefully resigned acceptance. I'm sure Miccall would have barked at him to pack his gear and get off the ship until he came to his Neb-blasted senses.'

'I'm sure he did, a dozen times.'

### Chapter 69 The Ghost is Me

01

I was downside with Riv and Lilm, interviewing prospective engineers at the Guild Hall of Constina's capital city of Leath when Molaye transferred a signal down from the ship, saying it was from Jardinn Export Services. I recognized the name from our bills of lading.

'Hello, Wilcrofter here,' I said. 'What can I do for you?'

'Greetings, Captain. M'Risha Drae, managing director of Jardinn Export Services. Since you're in orbit refitting, I thought it was the ideal time to get in touch. You've been carrying quite a few of my clients' boxes over the last several years, and I've been toying with a mutually profitable idea for some time. I'd like to talk to you about it.'

'I'm always happy to meet with clients, Director Drae. I've seen your firm's name on many of my bills of lading. However, I have to say straight away that I'm giving up drift trading to work my way into the interplanetary trade. I don't know how that affects your idea, but I'm determined to put the drifts behind me.'

'Well, my proposal would be a mix of interplanetary and drift trade. You see, I'd like to consolidate all my business – we're a small firm – together into a scheduled service using the Starry Shore. You'd collect the boxes from half a dozen planets and deliver them to half a dozen drift stations, just like you have been doing. I have enough business to guarantee you a profit for each voyage, and since I'd not insist on an exclusive charter, you could pick up additional boxes to supplement that profit as well.'

'It sounds promising, but I'm determined get back into the interplanetary trade.'

'All the drift ports are portal stations, nothing deep – some of them you already serve. It'd be two six month long circuits a year with dependable profits. I think it would be beneficial for both of us. I'd appreciate the chance to go over my figures with you in detail. I think you'll find them far more attractive than trying to break into the interplanetary trade on your own, since, I assume, profits matter to your owner. Why don't we go over my plan over dinner, my treat?'

'Well...' I took a breath and rapidly considered my options. The idea had some appealing aspects – profits, calling on more Amdia planets than Baidora, and a regular schedule. And I had been comfortable in our drift work prior to the message on Ravin. And, I did have an owner... In the end, I recalled Miccall's dictum – it pays to keep customers happy, even if it doesn't pay in the short run, so the least I could do was to give the plan a good look.

'I'll make no promises, but I'll be happy to have dinner with you and look over your proposal. When can we meet?'

'I'm free all evening and I gather you're downside.'

'Aye, I've just finished my downside business.'

'Then why not stop by the office now? If you're hungry we can go out to dinner and look over my plan afterward.'

'That does sound rather appealing. What's your address? I'll grab a flier and be over directly.'

She gave it, adding. 'I appreciate this, Captain. I'm sure it will prove worth your trouble.'

Jardinn Export Services had a small office on the edge of Leathport, the sprawling prime space port of Constina. The clearsteel door slipped aside and I entered the office, typical in every way to every other shipbroker's office I've called on. It was early evening in Leath, hours after the end of the work day, and the small office appeared to be deserted. I stood in the reception area and was about to call out, when M'Risha Drae stepped out of her office and hurried over.

'Sorry, Captain, I didn't expect you quite this soon. I'm M'Risha...' she said, extending her hand, and stopped to stare at me.

I took it, and stared back. Something...

'I'm sorry Captain, I seemed to have lost my thread of thought. As I said, I'm M'Risha Drae, the managing director. Welcome...' she said partially recovering, but still studied me closely.

'Nives Wilcrofter, a pleasure to meet you,' I replied absently, looking at her closely. I knew her. Or rather she reminded me of someone I knew. And suddenly it popped into focus. She reminded me of my mother. Only a sharper, sterner, and more businesslike version. A more hard-boiled version.

She must've seen that spark of recognition in my eyes, since she latched on to my arm and said sharply, 'Let's start with dinner,' and deftly steered me out of the office, pausing only to lock the door behind us.

I doubt shipbrokers normally clamp ship captains by the arm and drag them off. Grandmothers, on the other hand, might do that with grandsons. Hard-boiled ones, anyway. I was still processing all of this, and just meekly accompanied her.

As we walked down the corridor to the lifts, she said, 'I'm sorry to be so presumptuous. It's just that you remind me of someone. A grandson – a ship's captain. But his ship was wrecked in the Despar Reef.'

I had the wit, barely, to stay in character, 'Ah, sorry to hear that. My first voyages to the drifts took me to Boscone where I barely escaped some Despar privateers at the start of the late drift war. Luckily they were only small traders which we eventually outran,' I replied, with a glance at her. She was still looking at me, though seemingly lost in thought.

It was only after we stepped into the lift that the full meaning of what she'd just said hit me. Our relatives and friends thought that we were trading in the deep drifts. I'd never seen any report that indicated that the Lost Star was missing or lost. There were only two parties who knew something of the truth – the Despar Navy and St Bleyth. She'd named no names, but it seemed clear from her reaction, I was a tangible ghost to her. And she... well, I doubt Despar would have any need for an agent on Constina. But St Bleyth... She still held my arm, but there was no escape now, anyway.

The lift door opened and we stepped out into the lobby of the landing deck. I turned to her as she dropped her hand on my arm. She was still watching me, and from the look in her eye, saw my dawning realization. She may have even smiled just faintly.

'I believe we need to find someplace to talk freely,' she said. 'There's a nice beach and a good restaurant at the yacht club in Barbeth, a fifteen-minute flier ride from here.'

'Yes, of course. Whatever you say... Sister Drae,' I added watching her.

'It's Abbess, son,' she replied sharply, but with a brief twinkle of a smile. 'But let's hold that discussion until we can talk freely. Right now, I'd like to run through my plan in greater detail, since we have the time...'

I'm fairly sure she did explain her scheme as we boarded a flier on the deck, flew through the towers of Leath and down the coast, but well, as I said, I'm only fairly sure. I, at any rate, spent the time coming to terms with the idea that my grandmother was an abbess of St Bleyth. The most frightening thing about it was that I seemed to be having no problem at all coming to terms with the idea. No more of a problem than I had getting into a flier with an agent of St Bleyth to fly to some, doubtlessly, deserted beach. The jig was up and I only had to learn the piper's price. There was a slight level of relief in it, to tell the truth.

Of course I knew that Grandmother V'Ran, the name I knew her by, was from the drifts. And I knew she was a pretty hard woman as well. She ran a spaceers' dive, after all – at least she did. She hadn't changed any from the one time I'd met her decades ago – a cool and hard woman somewhere in the long middle century. She looked, come to think of it, just like a senior agent of St Bleyth might look. Clearly I hadn't been slandering her when I blamed her for my occasional and regrettable ruthless streak. I guess apples don't fall all that far from the tree.

The curious thing was that I wasn't concerned about my immediate future, nor, for that matter, my long term one. This was the Unity not the drifts, which made all the difference. I knew it wasn't easy to commit a capital crime in the Unity without ending up in Felon's Rift. I wasn't planning on going skinny dipping with Grandmother and turning up drowned, so I'd likely have time to collect the Azurete payout and sail for the far end of the Nebula if need be, and good luck finding me. And well, as I may've mentioned, the drifts have left their mark on me, or perhaps merely rubbed off some of my Unity Standard veneer. I was, in fact, actually rather eager to hear what my grandmother had to say.

'Set us down on that bluff ahead,' she ordered the pilot, breaking me out of my reverie. The flier swooped down to a broad plain that ended in a low bluff falling to a wide strip of grassy dunes, a white beach with a foam speckled sea washing in from the breaking waves on a sandbar half a kilometer out. We climbed out into the tall grass.

She waited until the flier had taken off before she said, 'Let's walk down to the beach. I brought you here, Captain Wilcrofter, because what we have to say must stay strictly between us. Can I trust you not to record this?'

'Of course, Grandmama. Call me Wil – I chose my new name so it would stay the same in my new life.'

She gave me an unreadable look, and then, to my surprise, took my hand in hers and pulled me along towards the edge of the bluff. 'You nearly frightened me to death back in the office, son. Estimates had only a 1 in 192 chance of the Lost Star surviving the reef passage. I found out my grandson was dead before I even knew he was in danger. I hope you'll believe me when I say that I'd no knowledge of your involvement with the Order prior to the loss of the Sister Sinister,' she said quietly, over the rustling of the grass and the distant sound of the breakers.

'Yes, of course,' I replied, adding rather sarcastically, 'Rather out of your bailiwick, I suppose.'

She gave me a quick, wicked grin. 'It was. The affair was not a matter I needed to be informed of, since I never identified you as a relative. Both the contract to kill and Boscone contract were indeed out of my bailiwick and until the loss of the Sister Sinister, too routine to reach me here, even informally. Had your family connections been on record with the Order, it would've been different,' she paused to glance across at me, and continued, 'I'm somewhat the black sheep of the family and I've served on the outside, and in the Unity, for the better part of a century – by choice. I raised your mother entirely outside the Order because at the time, I was rather on the outs with the Order and her father. The Order was, of course, aware of her, but I didn't send her to Tienterra, our home world for her education, and she slipped out of my life before she was eligible to enter the Order on her own, so her life and that of her children fell outside of the Order's active interest. Thus, when Covert Operations issued an order to eliminate a witness to a botched operation, they'd no way of knowing they were issuing an order to kill someone who was related by blood to two of the oldest and most powerful families in the Order. Had the Covert Operations Directorate known this, I assure you, no order would have been given, at least without consulting your grandfather and me.'

'Which is a star fallen,' I said as we came to the edge of the bluff. 'A planet astern.'

'That depends, Wil, on what transpired in the Despar Reef. That's what I need to know in order to decide how to proceed. Hold on, you can tell me all about it when we reach the beach...' she added, as she started down the narrow sandy path that zigzagged down the grassy face of the bluff to the wide beach below. Still holding her hand, I followed her down, carefully picking my footholds. I'd been downside often enough in the last weeks to be pretty accustomed to gravity, but I didn't care to go tumbling down the bluff, dragging Grandmama along with me.

Reaching the dunes and grass at the bottom she turned to me, 'The Sister Sinister is a serious affair, Wil. I need to know the truth – the full truth – so as to know how to proceed. Please trust me with the truth – I have your best interests at heart.'

Why not? I thought. I'd nothing to lose now that St Bleyth knew we survived. And perhaps something to gain. So I told her the nearly complete tale as we made our way through the steep, grassy sand dunes towards the sea – including the fact that Min had already sailed – making Nun's mission half a failure before it even sailed – but nothing about Botts or the part it played in saving us. With the breeze and rumbling hiss of the waves, everything I said would've been hard to have been captured by any interested party, which was why we were here – this was the Unity after all, where security was a by-word. Grandmama was taking no chances. When I finished, we stood silently on the hard sand beach as the foam speckled seas slid up and back, while the tall waves crashed and tumbled in white confusion on the outer bank.

'So you didn't continue the battle once you were in the reef?'

'Trust me, once we entered the reef neither of us had the computing power or the missiles to spare to continue the battle. Everything we had was focused on clearing a thin lane through the reef. And since the Sister Sinister was depending on us to do that for them, they'd have been crazy to fire on us.'

'Why did you take the chance? It seems a foolhardy gamble.'

'In the long run we couldn't outfight or outrun the frigate – we were just barely holding our own and eventually we'd run short of missiles. It was only a matter of time before we were destroyed. Even a 1 in 192 chance – and I thought it was better than that – was better than our chances if I continued up the channel,' I replied. 'I'd hoped, however, to shake Nun off just by making a wide turn into the reef and then see if I could make our way through at a more reasonable pace, but that wasn't the way it worked out.

'Can you prove all of that?'

'It's all in the ship's log. And I assure you, neither my shipmates nor I will soon forget it.'

'So why did you survive, and the Sister Sinister didn't? You were the lead ship, after all.'

'Luck and an amazing pilot,' I replied. 'Well, mostly luck. I can't say for certain why Nun's ship took a hit. Perhaps our sensor records could shed light on that. Trust me, I wasn't looking back at the time since we were in the densest part of the reef, constantly blowing meteors out of our way and even then, losing a drone in the process. My guess is that pieces of one of the meteors we blew apart struck another rock and ricocheted inwards, striking the Sister Sinister, causing either the first big explosion or forcing it out of the cleared lane and into the thick reef and the fatal rocks.'

She gave me a hard, sidelong look. 'The truth?'

'On my word of honor, Grandmama. The Lost Star did not intentionally destroy the Sister Sinister. Even when attacked, all we did was defend ourselves. I'm a pretty Unity Standard fellow and all I wanted to do was escape. Nun, in my mind, made the foolhardy decision when he decided to follow us into the drifts. I had to take the risk, he didn't. He must've feared that if we did, somehow, survive, he'd lose track of us by the time he cleared the reef via the passage. He decided not to take that chance and paid the price. That's not the first time I've seen blind devotion to duty in the service of St Bleyth lead to needless death,' I added. 'I rather doubt Captain D'Lay had many illusions about the outcome of his last battle either.'

She shrugged. 'It can be a hard service.' She pointed up the mostly deserted beach said, 'The harbor and yacht club are ahead. We can talk as we walk. I'm planning to get my feet wet, so you'd best take your boots off as well.' And with that, she settled on a steep bank of one of the dunes to take off her shoes and roll up her slacks. I followed orders and did the same.

She hooked her arm in mine as we walked on the edge of the ocean, letting the sheets of cool, foam streaked water wash over our feet and splash up our legs as we walked.

'You're holding something back, son. Are you sure you want to do that?'

'I've told you nothing but the truth, Grandmama. And anything I haven't said is not relevant to what you need to know. You must remember, you're a member of an organization that's actively trying to kill me, and likely my shipmates as well. I don't fear you here and now, and I can run far, far away, so I don't fear for the future – much – either, but, well, we are opponents, and I reserve the right to look after my own skin. Everything I did, I did defending myself and my shipmates from the hired killers of St Bleyth. I've nothing to apologize for.'

She cast me a glance and a faint smile. 'If you've told me the truth concerning the circumstances of the Sister Sinister's demise, you have one of those hired killers in your corner. One of the, well, unfortunate features of the Order is that families often matter more than the Order. I won't betray the Order for family, but I will fight for my family within the Order. And you're family. I will do everything in my power to dismiss the execution order against you.'

'And against Tallith Min and my crew as well?'

'Tallith Min is a contractual obligation. There's nothing I can do about her. I'd like your word that she's not aboard the Starry Shore, for that would put me in a bind.'

'You have it, as I said, she left the ship on Despar.'

'Good. Then I believe there's nothing preventing me from turning a blind eye to you at the present. If you weren't my grandson, I'd never have known you or your ship as being Litang of the Lost Star. The order against you is an operational decree, and between you and me, a trivial one, which can be rescinded in-house. I'll see to having it rescinded. That's a promise, Wil.'

'Fair enough. I believe I can trust you, Grandmama' I said with a glance across to her. 'But I don't want to put you in any awkward position on my account. I can look after myself,' I added, not without some misgivings.

She smiled, 'Oh, I'm an Abbess, which is not a minor rank. I may be an abbess of an abbey mostly concerned with information and mercantile concerns, but our family, Wil, dates from the foundation of the Order. Plus, your grandfather is a member of the Order. And he's far more important than I am, and from an old and powerful family as well. I believe I can interest him in your predicament,' she paused and laughed, 'Oh, you're very well connected in the Order, Wil, even if you're only a half-blooded St Bleythian.'

'Well, that's good to know. Who's my grandfather?'

She shook her head. 'Best to keep that secret, I think. We all need our secrets, don't we?' she said with a sharp, but largely benign glance. 'You see, he and I are not on the best of terms. Oh, we're civil on the few occasions when we meet, but having said that, that's all I can say. We weren't a good match and we split before your mother was born. I haven't seen him in years. He's completely indifferent to the existence of his daughter and is completely indifferent to his granddaughter and grandson as well. However, he's not without an ego. Indeed, he has a rather inflated one, which, I think, will work in our favor. I rather doubt he'll look kindly on killing a grandson of his simply because the Covert Operations Directorate wanted to eliminate a witness to a botched assassination. It wouldn't matter if he has no personal interest in you – it'd simply be the principle of eliminating an offspring of his without his consent.'

'And when he finds out about what I've done – foiling assassinations, the Sister Sinister affair, and even witnessing D'Lay's defeat by the berserker – what?'

She laughed. 'He'll be as proud of you as I am.'

'Huh?' I looked at her.

'You have 500 generations of St Bleyth ancestors in your blood. What you've managed to accomplish against the Order, avoiding being killed by someone who was at the time considered one of the best young stealths, destroying the berserker after D'Lay failed, surviving the Sister Sinister and the Despar Reef, and destroying three Falcon Rock pirates... Neb, son, blood will tell.'

'I've been unbelievably lucky.'

'You've made your luck. I don't think defeating that assassin in a duel was luck alone...'

'Well, I have been training with a master two-swords man for twenty-five years now...'

'Exactly. And you knew enough to use the rules of the duel to shift the balance in your favor.'

'I would've been dead, and deservedly so if Cin hadn't come along and pulled me out of the Legionnaire ambush on Sanjoor, and did the heavy lifting in our flight and fighting to reach Port Sanjoor...'

'And you deftly evaded her to make your escape afterward. Your grandfather would probably criticize you for leaving her alive, but well, why quibble? You escaped two sets of determined assassins. And the berserker...'

'I've the best systems tech man and hacker in the Neb...'

'Right, and the Sister Sinister...'

'A poor choice by Nun, and a lot of luck...'

'And an amazing pilot...'

'Aye...' I admitted.

'And the three Falcon Rock pirates?'

'Fired first with a carefully planned and executed volley. I've a talented fire control person...'

She gave me that look again, but simply said, 'Whatever role luck may play, you've more than luck on your side – you're surrounded by a team that seems to be able to do the impossible. In short, you've made much of your luck.'

She was right, so I could only shrug and say, 'I'll readily admit I have a very handy crew, but I don't know if I can take any credit for that... But anyway, Grandmama, this resume of my career should serve as a warning. It seems I'm strangely toxic to the Order. Captain D'Lay and his pilots and Captain Nun and his crew, all died after becoming involved with me. And not just by trying to kill me. D'Lay died defending the Lost Star. And then there's the stealth, Cin. I gathered her career took a decidedly downward plot since we crossed orbits and I rather doubt her performance on Despar will have reversed that. Yet, she probably saved my life more times than she tried taking it. So you see, it appears that mere proximity to me has adverse effects – 500 generations of St Bleyth ancestors notwithstanding.'

'It might seem so. Cin, by the way, was offered an honor mission after Despar, and accepted it.'

'An honor mission?'

'Brothers and sisters who fail to live up to the standards of our martial arts positions are dismissed to laity service. To be dismissed is a disgrace to be endured. Sometimes those dismissed are offered a chance to reestablish their reputation by performing an especially dangerous assignment, usually one which the operatives are not expected to, well, return from.'

'A suicide mission.'

'More or less. But if the honor mission is successful, the honor of the participant and their family is restored in the annals of the Order.'

'Deceased.'

'We all hope to die as honored members of the Order, Wil. Worthy of our families.'

'Well there you are – they're all dead, Grandmama. And believe it or not, I feel sorry for them. Both D'Lay and Cin, when she wasn't trying to hurt or kill me, were companions-in-arms, and Nun – I gave him an excuse to kill me on Despar and he only returned my stun dart. Anyway, you see the odds you're up against. Being on my side is no guarantee you'll avoid their fate and I'd hate for something similar to happen to you. You're rather more than important to me than they were.'

'On the basis of one visit long ago?' she asked, with a shrug and a faint smile.

'On that, and this evening,' I replied, quite honesty. I found I was completely comfortable with Grandmama. 'And perhaps, those 500 generations.'

She smiled. 'I feel the same way. I'll take my chances, son. Don't worry about me. I can look after myself. I'm the senior member of the Order in this system and I've family connections to fall back on, if necessary. Plus, I'll move cautiously. Nothing need be rushed.'

'Obviously you should report my, and my ship's survival, if you're going to claim me as a grandson. If you don't, won't you be running a grave risk?'

She shrugged. 'Nothing I can't deal with, even if it should somehow come to light before I'm ready. In any event, it'll have to be known at some point. If I can secure the support of your grandfather, there'd be nothing to worry about. But he'll have to be approached carefully. Until then, I'll avoid taking any unnecessary chances. So it'll take time and until then, Wil Litang remains dead. But given the odds against you showing up alive, I don't think we need to worry too much about our secret getting out. Why, you've been making my deliveries to the Shantien Chapter House for years without raising any alarm. Your survival will be bitter medicine for some, but we've the connections to administer it. You may eventually have to take some minor orders in the Order, to insure your silence but I don't think that would require you to do any more than agree not to work against us. But we'll see...' she mused, and adding, 'That's in the future. At the moment, we've several kilometers to go before we reach the club, so tell me, how did you get into this affair, anyway? All I know about it is from Nun and Cin's reports.'

So I told her my yarns, the assassination attempt, the duel, our battles with D'Lay against the Despar Navy and the berserker, my adventures on Despar and the battle in the Despar passage until we reached the harbor and yacht club where we found a bench on the pier where she brought me up to date on her life as well, very discreetly. Which, I suppose, I rather appreciated. The less I know the better.

'I thought you ran a spaceers' dive,' I said.

'Oh, I still do. I'm the proprietor of the Wandering Star, but I run that as Zilantha V'Ran. I prefer, for business reasons, not to have my Jardinn business associated with the Wandering Star. And, as your grandmother, don't let me catch you in the Wandering Star – for several reasons, one of which is that it is used for St Bleyth business, and we don't want to take any chances. Now, shall we go up and order dinner? I think we need to discuss my business proposal once again. I don't think either of us was paying any attention to what we were saying during the flier's flight.'

'Aye. But before we go up, two question. Why? Why run risks for me at all? You hardly know me, blood ties notwithstanding.'

She considered that for several seconds, before saying, 'I like you. And I don't like failure. I was one in my daughter's eyes – a failure as a mother. And well, when I discovered that my grandson had been killed by my own organization without me even being aware of it, I realized I'd failed as a grandmother as well. So when you walked out of the Despar Reef into my office, I realized I'd been given a second chance as a grandmother. And well, Neb-blast-it-all, here you are against all odds, against the cunning and power of the Order itself. I'm proud of you. We're a proud family, Wil. And though I'm rather a black sheep in it, I think both of us can look them in the eye, if, or when, we ever cross orbits with them. Indeed, I'm looking forward to claiming you as my grandson. I'm a selfish one ain't I?'

'Well, Grandmama, I think selfish or not, I want you on my side. And well, I'm thinking I'll be able to say I was lucky to cross orbits with my Grandmother someday as well. And I hope you'll say that I made my luck.'

'I'll see that I can,' she said and gave me a peck on the cheek. 'What's your second question?'

'Ah... yes – how did you recognize me? It's been, what, more than thirty years since you saw me last?'

'Your mother and I do correspond, son. I've seen the images you sent her as captain of the Lost Star. And being a trained agent, your whiskers didn't fool me.'

'And here I've been counting on those whiskers.'

She shook her head, 'Don't. Now let's talk business.'

We did, over a fine meal on the lawn overlooking the harbor in the fading day. When she came to discussing the drift worlds and stations I'd be calling up, Ravin was mentioned, bringing to mind my encounter with the unknown charter party that knew my name.

'What do you know about Banton & Co, of Ravin?'

'A export firm. Small fish. Why?'

I told her about the message that sent me scurrying back to the Unity. 'I don't know what to make of it. I don't see it coming from either St Bleyth or Despar – couldn't place it at all, or decide if it was a threat or not. Do you have a clue?'

She shook her head. 'I haven't heard a whisper of the Lost Star surviving. 'll make some discreet inquiries, but I don't know what to make of it either. However, as a favored provider of service status with the Order, I wouldn't worry too much. We look after our own.'

'If I become a favored provider of services...'

'You're already unofficially one based on past services to the Shantien Chapter House. I'll see to making it official. And it's on your Grandmother, no strings attached. But I think you'll find my proposal one you won't be able to refuse,' she added with a grin.

And she was right. Of course.

I took Grandmama M'Risha up to inspect the Starry Shore the following day. Standard procedure with new clients. I should've known better. Introduced her to Orbit and Astro, showed her though the ship, engine room to awning deck, introducing her to my crew as we came upon them without noticing anything unusual. It was only when we sat down for dinner – Molaye, the Drays, Riv and Lilm and Lili who happened to be on the ship, that I realized what I'd done.

It was Molaye, of course, who was bold enough to speak up as we settled around the table and started passing the covered entrees around.

Sitting next to Grandmama, Molaye asked, 'You're Captain Wil's grandmother, aren't you? The one from the drifts.' she asked as she passed an entree to her.

Grandmama, as cool as ever, said, 'Why would you think that?' passing the dish to me with a darting look.

'Why, you look ever so much like Wil's mother! Captain Miccall had Wil's parents up for a meal every time we called on Faelrain.'

'And you remember that so very clearly?' I asked sharply. 'The one or two times you were present.'

'Well the others do,' she indicated the rest of the gathered, and grinning crew, who'd met my parents dozens of times over the years we'd circled Azminn. My parents are ex-spaceers who own an export service on Faelrain and were a Lost Star's customer. Having them up for a meal was how Miccall conducted his business, especially if they were ex-spaceers. We'd have old friends, shipmates and customers on board at every planet of call. 'They recognize her. But I can see the resemblance as well. So are you?'

'She is,' I answered for her. 'It seems that we were both sailing under different names, so it was quite a shock yesterday when we crossed orbits.'

'I use two different names. One to run my spaceer's resort, and another to run my export services business. Owning a spaceer's dive provides a great deal of useful information in the trade, but that type of business could be seen as a liability for someone in the small export business, hence the two names. Wil has told me why he's sailing under a new name, and I want to assure you, your secret is safe with me. Indeed, safer, since I'm the sole exporter to the Shantien Chapter House of St Bleyth, so you are already in good standings with them, which will be further enhanced by your connection with my firm.'

'You know he blames you every time he darts someone, don't you? He's become quite the drifteer, and says he owes that to you,' Molaye said with a grin.

'Well, I gather from what he's told me, it's a rather good thing he's become a bit of a drifteer, so I don't mind taking the praise or blame. I was born in the drifts, though I've lived in the Unity for nearly a century now. Wil and I haven't had much time to catch up but I'm very happy that our orbits have crossed and that I now have a chance to get to know my grandson.'

Well, she got to know him a whole lot better by the time I pried her away from my crew and dropped her back down to Leath in the early morning hours. Still, it was one less secret I'd need to keep...

02

With the prospect of more drift work, even if it was all to the tame distribution centers, I ordered the 3000 anti-missile missiles needed to completely stock our new battery and signed on a young Guild engineer to replace Myes, Sar Nil, five years out of the drifts, but with ten years of experience.

I've come to realize that most spaceers are not very Unity Standard. We have our spaceports and spaceers' rows on every planet – little slices of the Unity where Unity standards of conduct are laxly enforced. Space ship rules, even on Guild ships with Guild regulations, are less confining than those of a planet. Space travel is, by its very nature, less safe and secure and requires something other than a strictly Unity Standard person, which is why many spaceers, even in the Unity come from the moons or the drifts. Certainly the Four Shipmates weren't Unity Standard, and Miccall's old gang isn't either, even those that were born in the Unity like Rafe and Riv and Illy. And well, even before I knew my heritage, I'd become pretty comfortable operating in the drifts. Oh, I'm still a pretty Unity Standard fellow in many ways but I'd be comfortable trading in the drifts if I hadn't made some powerful enemies. Perhaps being heir to 500 generations of St Bleyth ninjas or whatever, has something to do with that. That said, I still wouldn't miss the drifts. I'm looking forward to being a Captain Jann, and saying to any drift-bound spaceer, "I sailed 'em in my youth – better you than me."

In any event, Sar Nil, seemed to fit right in with both the old gang and my new, younger drifteer crew members. Birds of a feather.

Somewhat to my (pleasant) surprise, everyone turned up when it came time to sail, including Rafe.

'Well, Willy, you've given me a chance to sample retirement,' he explained when I welcomed him back. 'Constina's a nice world. But I think I'll put off becoming a groundeer for a little while longer. And after being away for a while, I think I can put up with you a bit longer.'

'I appreciate that, Rafe. I truly do...'

03

We had a banquet for Myes and Nadde while we were awaiting our last boxes, two days before we fueled. I'd a bit of trouble getting Myes up to the ship for the banquet.

'What's the problem, Molaye?' I asked. 'Why is he so vague as to when he and Nadde can make it?'

'I believe he's afraid the banquet's just an excuse to get him aboard again so you can drug and shanghai him.'

'Drug and shanghai Myes? What sort of captain does he think I am?'

'I don't know. Maybe the sort who drugs and shanghais spaceers.'

'Me? Neb, I'm the easiest going captain this side of Avalee.'

'Well you did shanghai Tallith Min – our owner no less.'

'I did not shanghai Min,' I shot back. 'You and bloody-everyone knows that. I merely enforced a binding Guild Contract. All perfectly legal and above board. And you know my reasons as well. Myes turned in his notice in plenty of time. He's a free man and I've already signed on his replacement. He's nothing to fear, from me anyway,' I added giving her a mock hard look. 'I think it's my hardnosed first mate he fears.'

She laughed and shook her head. 'I do everything by the Guild book. But never mind, leave it to me, I'll get them aboard and we'll have our banquet. And, just so you know, I'll turn a blind eye should you decide to drug their Mystwine.'

'I'd expect nothing less, First.'

She did get them up, and we did have our feast, and I didn't drug their Mystwine. It did, in fact, turn into a long spaceer carouse. I stayed sober, as did Nadde and I flew them down to Constina after the party wound down. Myes was more or less asleep.

'You know, Nadde,' I said, as I glided towards Leathport's small craft field. 'I'm not a lifer. I'm looking to be a cha planter, sooner or later, and I'm hoping it's sooner rather than later. Which is to say that I can understand, and indeed, approve of Haz being ready to give up knocking about the planets and drifts to settle down with a catch like you.'

She gave me a questioning look. 'So?'

'So, when I say that I'd be quite willing to sign both you and Haz as a team, it's not that I'm so much as suggesting you should, but well, just bring up the possibility. If you'd like the opportunity to sample the spaceer life, you'd always be welcome to sail on the Starry Shore. I'd have brought this up sooner, but I figured you've a life here and probably would not want to just blast off on such short notice, and well, I thought I'd best give you guys time to settle into your partnership. A ship is a pretty small world without a lot of privacy. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I could use an apprentice environmental engineer. Kylan is only doing the job as a favor to me. So if Haz here should get a bit restless, you'd be more than welcome to join us...'

'You're thinking he'll be getting restless. I gather, he's tried settling down before, and always turns up a few months later.'

'That has been the case to date. But I don't think he's ever found anyone like you and he'd be a fool to leave you. I believe things will work out. If he's really ready to settle down, I'd hope that you will come up for a visit when we're in orbit. I promise I won't shanghai either of you. But if he's not quite ready yet, well, I've known Haz for twenty years now and think you've got a good man in Haz. So if you're willing to follow him should the old fool get restless, I just want you to know you'd be welcome aboard, even if it's just for a voyage or two now and again. We can always find jobs for an engineer, and well, we're pretty much a family affair – a big planet trader – so you could just sign on just for a voyage or two every now and again. We'll be swinging around to Constina twice a year now.'

'Thank you, Captain. Fair enough. I'll keep that in mind.'

04

We departed three days later for our first circuit collecting boxes on the planets of Blynesta, Barvene, and Baidora before heading out, this time down the Myzar drift in the direction of Zilantre to the drift stations of Kinter's Rock and Shindow, the drift world of Yentri and then on to old Plyra before returning to Constina. A six moth run.

I didn't press Grandmama on just where the boxes we carried were ultimately bound for, but I'd little doubt that most were bound for one St Bleyth chapter house or another. With their home world a closely guarded secret, their outside installations are likely supplied from the Unity, goods purchased with their ill-gotten gains. I've become enough of a drifteer not to let that bother me. Nevertheless, I still have very little regard for St Bleyth in general and none for the way they make their outside living. I make an exception for Grandmama, blood being thicker than water, but the less I have to do with the Order, the better – says the captain of the ship that has become a small, but integral part in their supply chain.

We were not entirely dependent on the Order, however. I was able to add half as many more boxes from the various planets and stations I called on. Boxes that had either missed their connections, or were from small importer/exporter operations. I hadn't quite sold my soul to St Bleyth.

I signed Myes back aboard with Nadde as our apprentice environmental engineer upon our arrival back in Constina. For a voyage or two anyway, just to give Nadde a sample of the spaceer life, they claimed. Maybe longer if she took to it. I'd already assured Sar Nil that he was a permanent member of the crew regardless of what Myes did, assuming he wanted to stay on – which he did – so the tentative nature of Myes and Nadde's commitment didn't bother me. It doesn't hurt to have a few more people than regulations require, especially when they fit in so comfortably. And since our share of the Azurete salvage was waiting for us on arrival, I didn't have to economize on crew and wages.

'It's actually Nadde's idea,' explained Myes. 'I was enjoying working downside on Constina. Nadde said she could land me a berth with Re'Tze, but I'm too canny for that. I've done enough heavy work in a space suit to know that wasn't for me. I landed a berth repairing taxi fliers. A word of advice, Skipper – take the tube if you value your life. At least on Constina.

'Anyway, I'd get to yarning about my life in space, and she got to thinking it was all so exciting and romantic. I told her she could sample it for herself, if she had a mind too. I was happy putting fliers back together again, but she said we had a berth aboard the old Starry Shore. And well, here we are.'

'And it's good to have you back. I'm sure Nadde will fit in. I expect to have the Jardinn run for years, so you can sail with us or take time off whenever you want. You've the credits now.'

Now, if I had an owner going over my books after every voyage, I couldn't have been that free and easy. But well, I didn't. And I didn't expect to have an owner looking over my shoulder for many years. If ever. Min was not likely to give up her quest before it reached its end. Tenry and Vynnia's Patrol commission was an open ended one as well, so I felt like I could operate pretty much as master and owner of the Starry Shore. With the payment of the Azurete salvage claim, I'd produced half a lifetime's profit for my absent owner already. So with a steady income from Grand mama's business, I felt that I didn't need to pinch credits. So in addition to signing on Myes and Nadde, I distributed 1/12th of the ship's share of the Azurete salvage equally among the crew members involved in the salvage. Distributing a share of the salvage fee was not a Guild requirement, but was often awarded by your more generous owners and a 1/12th share was not uncommon. However, given the amount of the salvage, I suspect most owners would have distributed less than 1/12th. Still, I didn't think Min would scrimp, and I knew they'd earned it many times over, and not just with the Azurete salvage either, so it seemed the right thing to do. Of course, I was also giving myself a share of that 1/12th as well, so my motives were not free of self-interest. But then, I'd earned it as well. 1/1728th of a treasure ship was enough credits to have Molaye and I pretty optimistic about owning a Crimson Comet z33 – one that was in one piece, as well. Each. Botts objected to its share, saying it'd no need of credits, but I insisted.

'Stash the CreditTokens in one of your access ports. You never know when you'll find yourself on some world with the natives close on your trail with pitchforks and sledgehammers. A few credits might well buy you a passage to safety,' I replied.

'I rather think that's a remote possibility,' it replied.

'We've both survived enough remote possibilities, Botts, to know remote possibilities are not necessarily all that remote in the drifts. Take the credits,' I replied. 'That's an order.'

'Aye, Captain.'

If Botts was what it claimed to be, they'd likely do it no good. But I was far from convinced that Botts wasn't just being coy claiming to be a mere class 8 machine. If Botts was indeed a sentient machine, it could use the credits should it ever find itself adrift some day, hopefully, in the far future.

05

Our second circuit took us around the Amdia system once again collecting boxes and then up the Myzar drift to the familiar ports of Carivon, Hendin, and Shantien, Coris, and Ravin before heading back to Constina. It was, as promised, every bit as lucrative and uneventful as the Lost Star's Azminn circuits. The only difference was that we'd fewer ports of call and longer runs between them. The uneventful nature of our work lasted until our second visit to Ravin. We'd not stirred up any ghosts on our first visit, but weren't so lucky on our second.

### Chapter 70 Old Ghosts

01

It seemed to be always raining in Ravinport, Ravin's prime city and spaceport. When I asked why, I was told that it was merely the rainy season, which, it seems, is about eight months long out of a nine-month year. Which, at least, keeps intact my observation that, for some inexplicable reason, world founders always build their prime city in the most unpleasant region of their world.

Ravin is a company planet like Zilantre, but younger and rougher around the edges, which is to say, as soon as you left the spaceport proper things could get a little iffy. I'd been down paying a brief visit to our agent, Xin VonBrey, finalizing the transactions on half a dozen inbound boxes we'd taken on board. Molaye could've done it, but I'd kept that strange message my secret and didn't want anyone going down unaware of whatever complications might arise from the sender of that message. So I did it myself and kept our visits short.

I'd made my way back to the spaceport and was waiting in the small, nearly deserted, terminal for a robot shuttle to turn up and take me out to the gig – it was raining and the gig was on the far end of the field.

'Cap'n Wilcrofter?' said a voice beside me.

Slipping my left hand into my jacket pocket and grasping my sissy, I turned to find a rather disreputable looking spaceer – a chief engineer by the look of him – with a large drooping mustache standing beside me, peering at me rather blearily.

I opened my mouth to reply, but found I couldn't think of a single thing to say. I just gaped and stared. He seemed solid enough. Couldn't see through him, in any event.

'Cap'n?' he said again, after a moment, giving me a puzzled look. The breeze of the approaching shuttle brought the faint whiff of whiskey off the spaceer.

'Is something amiss? Have I left half my breakfast on my mustache again?' he asked as I stared at him speechless. 'You look like you've seen a ghost.'

'I have,' I managed to croak. 'You!'

'Aye? Me. In person...'

'Glen Colin,' I croaked.

That startled him. 'Awk! My fame proceeds me!' he exclaimed, and watching me closely added, 'Aye, that's me, Chief Engineer Glen Colin. How'd you do, Cap'n?' He offered his hand, which I took automatically. It was solid enough. 'We've crossed orbits, I gather, but I can't quite place where'

'You're... here. You can't be.'

He looked around puzzled. 'And why not?' he asked with a quizzical look.

'Because you're a ghost,' I blurted out.

He gave me a long measuring look. 'I fear one of us ain't strictly sober. And unfortunately, I am. So that leaves you. I envy you, but no fear, Cap'n, I'm no ghost. Not that I know of. Must've been some other Glen Colin.'

'We've met. In the engine room of my ship. You were very much a ghost back then. Came and went in the middle of a passage. And not for the first time, I've been told.'

'Ah, well, Cap'n. I don't rightly recall that incident. Don't remember ever crossing orbits with'ya, truth be told. Seems hardly possible. I haven't been around much, though there's a lot of my long life I don't remember all that well,' he added with a sly smile under his mustache.

'In my engine room. The...' I almost blurted out Lost Star, but managed to change it to 'the Starry Shore. We talked. You suggested we reinforce the saddle of the engine we'd moved aft...'

'And when would this be, if you don't mind me asking.'

'Oh, some seven, eight years back,' I said, still trying to make sense of this. I knew I was strictly sober, and hopefully, sane.

He looked thoughtful for a bit and shrugged, 'Very curious. Yes, very curious indeed. I'd like to hear more about that, and well, you're looking rather pale and in need of a stiff drink, I'm thinking. I'm a mite thirsty myself. There's a snug lit'l port not far from the gate where you can tell me about our previous meeting. I'm curious, as to the circumstances of my supposed visit.'

I stood staring at him, trying to think clearly. He'd been helpful when we last met and seemed pretty harmless now. And I was pretty sure he wasn't a ghost this time. 'I'm curious too. And I could use a drink, now that you mention it,' I said slowly. 'Lead on.'

We returned to the gate and dashed across the wide boulevard to a conveniently close dive on the far side without getting too damp. I ordered a rum, he two whiskeys at the bar and we made our way to a table in the deep shadows of the long, low, and largely empty taproom.

He took a long sip of his first drink and said, 'Spin your yarn, Cap'n.'

I did, without mentioning destination or its exact location.

'In wyrm weather, you say,' he said thoughtfully when I mentioned that part of it.

'Aye. And I suspect that's a significant factor.'

'You're no doubt right. but go on.'

'And you said I knew the ship?' he asked when I came to the part about his advice about the makeshift saddle needing to be beefed up.

'Aye. You said you'd served in that engine room for many years. I believe you called it the Lark.'

'Ah, the old Desperate Lark. I passed many'a long watch pushing that old girl along on skill and luck. That'd explain it...'

'There was a legend aboard the ship that this wasn't the first time you appeared as a ghost. You were even said to stand a watch or two as one, so I knew who you were right off.'

He smiled and shook his head, 'I get around a'bit, don't I? It's a talent of mine. But carry on, finish your tale.'

When I finished, he sat in silence, nursing his second glass for a while, lost in thought.

'Care to enlighten me?' I asked.

He finished his second whiskey and gave me a meaningful look, so I called out for another and waited patiently for him to take his first sip.

'Well, I can't see any reason for keeping ya in the dark. I've no recollection of visiting the ol'Lark since I signed off 60 some years ago. That's not to say I didn't visit as you said. It's just that I've spent most of my time since then in a sleeper-pod. So if I did visit you, it was as a sleepwalker, or in some very strange sort of two-way dream, which I can't remember, it being a dream. That's why it's so curious. It would seem that I have a whole other life I'm unaware of, awake anyway...'

'You're the most Neb-blasted strangest sleepwalker I've ever crossed orbits with if you can walk to the old Lark anywhere in the Neb in your sleep.'

'I think we can blame that on the wyrm weather. I doubt I'm wandering the Neb in my sleep, at least that solidly,' he said thoughtfully. 'But you see, the thing is, finding my way to places I've been to is a special talent of mine. I'm a chief engineer by trade, but by birth I'm what's called a Guide. It's a talent, you see. I can find my way back to anyplace I've ever been.' He laughed, 'Now I'm sure you're thinking, so what? Who can't? But you see, with me it's a special, well, psychic power that runs in the family, generation to generation. Oh, we're very highly valued people where we come from. Highly valued, indeed, mate, because of what we can do – find our way back – comes in might handy, back in the old country. Truth is, I'm over 300 years old, by the calendar, least ways. But I've spent more than half of that time a'dreaming in some sleeper-pod or another. Ol'Glen Colin has to be preserved you see, because of his special talent. Very rare, very rare indeed on this side...'

'What makes it so special, other than being a walking chart?'

'Laugh if you like. But it's being a walking chart that makes me special. Imagine if you will, a deep reef. So deep that you can't find a point of reference distant enough to act as a base – not speck of light reaches this deep reef. And picture the rocks in this reef moving every which way. Maybe there's a pattern, and if you had the computing power, you might be able to discover it, and if you had even more, you might be able to predict when rocks will collide and what that'll do to the future pattern. And you'd have to project this out for years and years... You see where I'm coming from?

'Aye, I get the idea. But how realistic is that scenario?'

'Well, where I'm from, it's very real. You see, if I found a gold asteroid in that deep reef, I could lead you right back to that gold rock a year, ten years or a hundred years later no matter how many times it had been bounced about. I'd know where to find it in the blackness, just as I could find the old Lark in the middle of the Nebula. It's all up here,' he said, tapping his forehead with a thick, powerful finger. 'And where I come from, finding that gold asteroid, or any other place pretty much depends on knowing not where it was, 'cause it isn't there anymore – and all the guide posts have moved and changed – but where it is now. And that requires a fellow like ol'Glen Colin.'

'Why don't you just put a beacon on it?' I asked.

'A good question. Because you want to keep your gold asteroid secret, you see, so you don't go about broadcasting its position. Any beacon can be found, Right? And any code broken to bring one to life, if it's known to be out there. And they only work by broadcasting to anyone who happens to be listening. Oh they've their uses, but not for the gold asteroids. To find the gold asteroids, they use the likes of us, and only us. And well, the drifts are mighty big, and beacons can only send so far. It's so much easier, and more secure just to have a good guide on board.'

'And you're a good one.'

'Aye. When I'm drunk enough.'

'Only when you're drunk enough? Or is that just your story?'

He grinned. 'Alas, lad. All too true. This here is this guide fuel,' he said, lifting his glass and taking another long draw. 'But then, it appears I can find my way about when I'm a dreaming too. But there's no profit in that, is there? Not for my employer, anyhow.'

'And who's your employer?'

He put his finger to the side of his nose. 'Ah, that's what this is all about. The Prince sent me to fetch you. I seem to have misplaced that thought a bit,' and glancing at his com link, he added, 'And I suspect he'll be getting rather impatient. Not a patient man, these days, the Prince. We'd best be on our way.'

'Who wants to see me?' I asked again, though things had become a bit clearer. It suddenly struck me that I'd likely heard from him before. 'Who's this prince?'

'Ah, that, I'm not allowed to say. Very hush-hush. Not a word.'

'I've been in the drifts too long to go off and see someone someplace, just because they send someone to fetch me,' I replied. 'Your employer can stop up to the ship if he cares to talk to me. It's been a pleasure crossing orbits with you again, Chief, and well, sort of clearing up a mystery. But I must be pushing along. I want to clear orbit as soon as we get our reactors wound up. My regards to your boss,' I said, rising. I was curious, of course, but not that curious. 'Maybe next time...'

'Ah, now, Cap'n. Don't be hasty. There's nothing to be alarmed about. An old friend just wants to become reacquainted.'

'Well, I'll need a name, and he knows where and how to find me,' I replied. 'Fair Orbits, Chief.'

He made another muffled objection as he quickly downed the last of his drink, but I didn't hesitate. I'd a sudden feeling I needed to lift. Fast. I pushed through the door into the grey, rainy afternoon and paused to turn up my collar to cross the boulevard when two others pushed through the door behind me. I'm not sure I saw the faint blue light of the darter reflected in the entry way, but let's just write it in anyway. It fits into the usual pattern for these affairs.

02

I was sprawled half on, half off a chair, and when I stirred, I heard someone say 'He's coming to, call the boss.'

My head hurt. It does every time I'm darted. How many times has it been? It hurt too much to count. Too many, anyway.

Despite the sharp headache, I found myself remarkably calm. Non-lethal darts vary in charge, and from my pounding head, I rather hoped they'd used a strong one since it would mean that I'd been out for several hours. My com link would've alerted Botts the moment I'd been darted – we'd all had several small tracking tags in us these days, just for situations like this – so my crew should have a pretty good idea where to find me. What I didn't know was how difficult it'd be to rescue me. Still, if Molaye and Botts couldn't pull off a rescue between them, I don't know who could. And well, since the Boss or the Prince – likely the party that had tried to charter us – seemed eager to talk, things might not be too desperate. Indeed, I was actually rather curious to see who this Prince was.

I surveyed my position through slightly opened eyes – a small office by the looks of it. I'd been dumped in a chair facing a large desk with two large men, each holding down a corner of it. My sissy and com link were on the far side of the desk, just out of reach. I'd a feeling the men were just waiting for me to lunge towards them, so I decided, no, not yet. So the three of us waited in silence for the Prince.

My guards stood and stepped back as the door behind me slid open with a soft whoosh.

'Wake up, Litang. I haven't time for this nonsense and I resent the need to go to this length to get your attention. Don't annoy me further by playing coy,' said the shadowy figure in my barely opened eyes. He settled on the recently vacated edge of the desk. I'd heard that voice before, but couldn't immediately place it, save it took me back to the days when I was known as Litang. Azminn days. I pried my eyes wide open and had a look.

And shut them again, to try to think.

'What, no glad greeting for your owner?'

I opened them again and stared at the figure perched on the edge of the desk, with a sarcastic grin looking down at me.

'You're dead,' I croaked.

'If I am, so are you,' Hawker Vinden replied, spreading his arms. 'But I don't think we're beyond the event horizon yet. Do you?'

I just stared at him, half wishing I was. It'd make more sense.

'Don't gawk, Litang. You've slept too long and wasted too much of my valuable time as it is. We need to get down to business. I need to talk to my niece. I know she sailed with you from Calissant and hasn't returned. Is she aboard? If she's not, how do I contact her?'

'Who, or rather what in the Neb are you?' I asked, no doubt still gawking.

'Who or what? Are you blind or just muddled? I'm your owner, Hawker Vinden. You know, the fellow who appointed you acting captain when Miccall died. Have you forgotten me already? Neb only knows why my niece kept you on. Seni Shir must not have been available,' he growled.

'You didn't leave any instructions...' I pointed out weakly – a trivial observation, senseless really, but I was trying to get my bearings, so I added, 'Jann turned the Comet King over to Seni when he bought his planet trader half a year after you died.' And it struck me that I had already told him about that. Somewhere. Somehow. But I couldn't imagine when.

'Damn. Can't think of everything. Still, she had to have had better options than an inexperienced first mate.'

'Well, no,' I replied, still buying time. 'By the time the Lost Star arrived in Calissant orbit tramps were being laid up right and left. Any out of work captain with ambition didn't hang about Calissant. Dunnet, Kadalar and Ambon had already gone in with Jann to buy four 24 box planet traders. I was the best Min had on hand. And by Neb, I turned out to be a pretty Neb-damned good captain at that. Made a blasted fortune for her.'

I studied him closely as I talked. Was he a clone or one of the fabled eternal men – a robot like Botts with a pseudo-bio veneer and human's brain imprinted in its microchip memory? Such things were rumored to have been possible back in the ancient days, though illegal even then. Not that being illegal would stop the Four Shipmates...

He shrugged. 'So I hear. Lucky, anyway – which sometimes is just as good, while it lasts. But enough of this fond reminiscing – you're here for business. As I said, I need to talk to my niece. Make it happen, Litang. I haven't a lot of patience these days, and never had with idiots.'

I shook my head. 'Sorry, I don't know who or what you are. Vinden was blown to pieces in a needle rocket explosion, so what are you, a clone? An eternal man? A ghost like Glen Colin? And why should I trust you, anyway?

'Damn it, Litang, I'm Hawker Vinden in the flesh and obviously, I didn't die.'

'There didn't seem to be any doubt back then that you had. They found your remains and there was sensor evidence as well.' Not only was I curious, I knew that once he found out I couldn't help him find Min, he wasn't going to be in a talkative mood.

He sighed. 'The whole needle rocket explosion was my escape route, Litang. We, at least the Mins and I, always had several escape routes in place – though we may've gotten careless. Perhaps we'd come to believe that they had given up after all the years. But it seems they hadn't. Tragically, we didn't find that out until Onala and Martindale were killed. Miccall was too old and broken down to care anymore. Don't know if they pushed him over the horizon, or if he just slipped over himself, but I still had my line of escape and I took it – the needle racer accident.'

'How?' I asked, watching him.

'I don't have time for this,' he snapped, but perhaps realizing that a simple explanation could speed my cooperation, relented. 'I was prepared in advance to run. The needle rocket explosion was a carefully planned set piece. I had spare body parts cloned and grown to provide sufficient pieces to identify me after the explosion. I had my yacht's sensor system rigged so that I could disappear at will from it, so some of my actions prior to the explosion were off the record and all of them after the explosion were. Years ago, I'd made a multi-sensor recording of the scene in the needle rocket hangar, right up to the explosion and saved it to be inserted into the sensor log, if and when, the time came to disappear. On the day I died, I carefully timed the needle rocket explosion, disappeared off the ship's sensors near the hangar bay, inserted the prerecorded scene of my appearance in the hangar seamless into the ship's log so that it appeared that I was actually in the hangar at the time. We're talking about environmental sensors here, not visual, so it needn't be too elaborate, a mere bio ID of me was in the needle rocket bay when the timed explosion of the rocket went off. Parts of my body were found in the wreckage. Open and shut, unless anyone had a reason to suspect otherwise. The Patrol didn't and neither did my family. As for my enemies, well, I always operate on the premise they're never completely fooled, which is why I've taken so many precautions and have been so patient when it comes to dealing with you and my ship.'

'Still, that only explains how you faked your death. You still had to get away, and that would need the help of other people. People who you couldn't assume would not be mind probed.'

'You're right in that regard, but I didn't need anyone. I'd a gig on board my yacht with a hidden bolt hole built into it where I could hide for months, if need be, sleeping in a cocoon sleeper (a suspended animation pod constructed of D-matter fabric with a small portable stasis unit). As part of my plan, I'd sold the gig to one of my front companies in a dissenting colony on Saypori's moon Nivnarna weeks prior to the explosion and had arranged for it to be delivered following the explosion. There was, of course some delays in getting it to Saypori, what with the tragic event and all, but being in suspended animation, it didn't matter how long it took. I was a quantum man, both dead, and alive. When it was eventually delivered to the hangar I'd prepared – this was, after all my own company as well – a beacon triggered the re-animate process of my cocoon bringing me back to life.

'The fact is; I'd never given up the fight. I'd been secretly building a business empire for the last half of a century to carry on with our mission so I'd resources to fall back on. Once awake, I was off to the drifts – which, while more dangerous, offered more freedom of action than the Unity. As long as I kept my continued existence a secret and my operations unremarkable, I was safe enough. This happens to be one of my firms. I've used its facilities to build what I need. I had expected to spend several years tracking the Lost Star down once I was ready. I was amazed when she turned up here several years ago. I couldn't explain that. The odds of that happening... Well, I thought that I must have left a clue or something behind. Did I?'

I shook my head, 'Pure chance. But how did you recognize her? We'd made plenty of changes to her hull and fittings just to disguise her.'

'Oh, I know my old ship, Litang,' he laughed. 'You can't disguise the Lost Star from me. Plus, as a ship owner, I had all my ships automatically ping my com link when they arrived in orbit. It still does. I haven't insisted on reclaiming it until now, since my preparations were not quite ready. I was content to merely keep tabs on your movements these last few years. Now, however, I'm ready and I'm reclaiming it as mine. So get my niece on the com.'

I shook my head. Couldn't put it off any longer. 'Min's not aboard. Hasn't been for years. She's somewhere in the drifts looking for the answers you didn't share. And I haven't heard from her since she left.'

'You want me to believe she left you in charge of my ship without having some way to contact you?'

'We agreed to communicate through Kardea at Min & Co. since she's deep in the drifts, doing undercover work for the Patrol, and we're in hiding from St Bleyth, the organization who killed the Mins, and tried to assassinate Tallith on Calissant.'

'They tried to kill her?'

'And failed. A St Bleyth assassin ambushed her on the Yacht Club tarmac one evening. She survived the attempt only because she was wearing three layers of armored clothing. And there's been several more attempts to get at her since then. Nearly six years ago she slipped off, in an eight box drift trader I haven't a word from her since. If she's in contact with Kardea, Kardea hasn't passed anything along to me.'

He considered that grimly. 'I told her to stay with Jelter on Kimsai. She'd have been perfectly safe there. Really, it's her older sister, Olaeytha who is next in line... Bloody black Neb,' he muttered and rattled off a string of oaths... 'So she's in the drifts. Alone?'

I shook my head, 'She's with Tenry, Vynnia and a Patrol agent. Some sort of semi-official intelligence operation with enough freedom to allow her to chase the answers to her questions. She may occasionally communicate with Kardea, but I can't say for certain. You'd just have leave some sort of radio packet with Kardea and wait.'

'I can't risk waiting much longer. I've waited too long as it is. I'll just have to go with a regency,' he muttered to himself, after a short internal debate.

'Right,' he added, standing straighter and looking down at me. 'You're under my orders now, Litang. I need my ship. And since it's in orbit, I'll have to take it back without consulting my niece. So if you've any cargo, turn it back in. I'm not taking "No" for an answer this time.'

I stared at him. 'Under your orders? You're not the owner any more. If you want me to do anything, you'll have to contact Min and have her tell me what to do.'

'The ship is mine, Litang. It was to be Talley's only after I'm dead. And I'm not dead.'

'According to the Ministry of Death, you are. And the ship is Tallith Min's, as Guild records will show. Dead or alive, you've no claim to the Starry Shore. I've no intention of sailing under your orders. I've a nice, profitable run and I'll answer only to my owner of record.'

'I think not. Trust me, you're not in a position to refuse.'

'I believe I am. I suspect that neither of us is in a position to stir up trouble. St Bleyth has ears everywhere in these drifts. Our only real security is secrecy. I, however, am free to run long and far. I have a ship. You know your position better than I, but as I see it, you'll just have to find yourself another ship to charter. I'm not going off on some wild expedition with you.'

He glared at me. 'I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll buy it, even if she is mine. Honor served. I'll give you an excellent price. You can buy another one in Amdia to replace it.'

'How can I sell Tallith's ship, even if I wanted to? It's not mine to sell. The owner would have to sign off on the deal, so you'd save no time at all.'

'This is the drifts. We don't need the Guild red tape. I'll give you a ChequeToken payable to Talley that you can deposit for her. The Guild record doesn't need to reflect the change since we'll be sailing in the drifts. I can't be fairer than that. Talley and I can settle things between us later.'

I shook my head, 'No. Sorry. I've neither the authority nor the desire to sell you the ship. And I'm not going off on some charter in a futile endeavor to regain some lost drift world throne.' In my heart, the Starry Shore was mine.

'What do you know about that?'

'Nothing really. Just putting a few pieces together to make a guess. I suspect you've been trying and failing for the better part of a century. It's a lost cause, and I've no intention of getting my ship or crew involved with a long ago lost cause.'

'I don't want you or your crew. I'm going to pay them off. All I want is my ship.'

'I can't agree to that. Contact Min and have her instruct me.'

'Listen carefully, Litang. As I just pointed out, this isn't the Unity. It's my ship, and I'm taking possession of it. I'll buy it, or I'll just take it. One way or another, I'll have my ship. If you agree to sell, I'll pay off the crew and everything will go nice and smoothly. But if you refuse, I'll take more direct measures. We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way,' he added grimly.

'The last pirate who offered me that option got a belly full of missiles, Vinden,' I replied, painfully rising to my feet to face him down. The two big men who'd been lounging against the office walls, stood straighter as well. I didn't care. 'I've heard your proposal, so now you can listen to mine. I've been sailing the drifts too long for that threat to lift. Trust me, we're not naïve, we can and will defend ourselves against anything you can throw against us, with or without me. Contact Min & Co and leave a message for Tallith. That's all you can do. Now, I'll be going just as soon as you pass over my com link and sissy behind you,' I added holding out my hand.

If he was impressed, he didn't show it. He grinned and slowly shook his head. 'You don't know who you're dealing with. I haven't survived this long by letting a Unity Standard jacked up first mate call the tunes.'

'Like it or not, I'm calling them, and since I hold the Starry Shore, you'll dance to them. You haven't a choice.'

'I don't need you Litang,' he said quietly – his cold eyes said a bit more. 'I can deal with your first mate, just as easily.'

'Good luck with that,' I replied, with a laugh, holding his gaze. 'She's more than competent to deal with the likes of you. She's a moon-born drift pirate...'

We glared at each other for a few seconds more, before he shrugged. 'Right. I'll get my people in position to play this either way and will be back shortly to get your final word,' he said and stalked out.

The com link and sissy were still sitting on the far edge of the desk. I glanced at the guards. They avoided my eyes, looking anywhere but at the little darter – but with, shall we say, a hopeful smirk. I decided not to play their game. Not yet, anyway, and turned, stepping around the chair to the office window overlooking the dim-lit warehouse.

I could see them watching me in the reflection of the clearsteel, now hoping I'd make a break for the door. Standing around was no doubt getting boring, but I still had no intention of making them happy.

The window looked out on a large, dim-lit warehouse. In its dim expanse were four, well, let's simply call them vessels, though which medium they were designed to sail on or in was not immediately apparent. They were already crated in open-framed shipping containers, ready for transport. The two largest vessels, which could've been 40 meters in length, a dozen wide, stood a bit higher than the office widow – say fifteen meters. They were shaped more or less like ocean vessels – with a flat bottomed hull and a wedge shaped prow, slightly rounded sides that tapered back to two short, stout wings or fins as well as vertical tail. The upper half of the hull was divided into three deck houses, the middle one a deck higher than the other two. Open decks, covered by gratings, separated the three deckhouses. They didn't look like any type of ship I'd ever seen. I didn't see any method of propulsion, but the after wings looked incomplete. The two other vessels were smaller – perhaps 15 meters in length with rounded fuselages and stubby wings and enclosed propellers and brought to mind the strange vessel we have in no. 4 hold – the one that Riv said wasn't a zep gondola. They looked to be some sort of aquatic submarines, since they seemed too heavily built to be airships, and sported no rocket engines that I could see. Still, there are many different types of worlds, perhaps they could be used, somehow, in some low gee drift world. In the end, I gave up and considered more pressing matters, like what could I do, if my shipmates couldn't reach me.

And what if they tried... Vinden was never a fool, and given the persistence of his enemies, this facility would likely be very secure. Perhaps a St Bleyth stealth might slip in unnoticed, but would my crew be able to pull that off? The more I thought, the more I hoped they wouldn't try. Indeed, I could just sell the ship to Vinden, and let him pay off my crew. Botts could remain hidden on board, and with its ability to control the ship's systems, disable Vinden's crew, the pirate way, using the environmental system, allowing us to retake the ship. We'd just dump Vinden's crew back in their boat and be on our way. It looked to be the simplest, safest way to deal with Vinden. I ran over every angle of it, and I couldn't find a flaw.

'Call Vinden. Tell him I've decided to sell him the ship,' I said turning to the two guards.

'You can tell him yourself. He'll be back shortly,' replied one of them.

And, as if on cue, the door whooshed open beside me. I turned, expecting to see Vinden, but instead, saw a tall figure in a long wet coat with a leering dead face under a wide brimmed hat.

'Neb!' I exclaimed, but had the presence of mind to drop to the floor.

The darter fight, such as it was, was over in a second, with the two guards collapsing to the floor. From my position on the floor, I recognized the white foot-pads.

'Botts! What are you doing here?' I exclaimed, rather mindlessly. 'And where'd you get that mask?'

'I've come to collect you,' it replied dryly. 'The mask was a quick print job. Not too lifelike, I must admit. We'll have time to talk later. Now we must hurry, I fear the darter shots may have triggered alarms.'

'Damn,' I said, rising to my feet. I swiped my com link and sissy off the desk and jammed them into my pocket. 'Whatever happens, you need to get back aboard the ship. Abandon me if you must.'

'Follow me, Captain. Everything in hand and if all goes as planned, we'll be aboard ship within the hour,' and added with an exuberance that had me once more doubting its class 8 claim, 'This is just like old times with "Villain" Viseor!'

We bolted out of the office and flew down the stairs to the warehouse floor. 'This way, sir!' Botts said and was off running between the strange vessels, the tails of its long coat flowing behind it. I took off after it. Ravin is a small planet with only a .4 gee gravity, so I hadn't worn an exoskeleton down for what I thought would be a brief visit – a decision I now regretted.

'This is a remote warehouse, at the edge of the compound. There's a door at the far end. Once through it, steer for the wall. I'll jump to the top and drop a line to haul you up and over. Beyond the wall is a deep woods. I'll carry you to the waiting flier, we will make much better time that way,' it said conversationally as we raced for the far wall.

'How'd you get in?' I panted.

'This building is part of a zep factory compound with a showroom for its products in another building. We arrived by a rented flier with Molaye and Kie pretending to be shopping for a zep. While they looked at zeps in the showroom, I broached the security system, and borrowing a transport robot's ID, followed your tracker's signal through the compound to this building without tripping any alarms. Security is elaborate for human intruders, but rather lax for machines. They never knew anything was amiss until I fired my darters and they're only beginning to respond now. We should have plenty of time to make our escape before they mount an effective response. Molaye and Kie have already lifted and will be waiting for us to rendezvous in the woods.'

'Right,' I panted as Botts put on a final spot of speed, sprinting ahead to a small door set in the tall warehouse wall. It had it swinging open as I panted up.

'Fifty yards to the wall,' it announced brightly. 'Then over and we're clear.'

Gravity is never kind to spaceers, so I saved my breath and plunged out into the rain.

It was cool, grey and misting. Ahead was a five-meter-high concrete wall, and beyond, a black woods wrapped in mist. Once again Botts raced ahead, and, in a single leap, scrambled to the top of the wall. It deftly unwrapped a rope from under its coat and dropped a line down to the ground as I pulled, up, legs aching, gasping for breath.

'Put your foot in the loop and hold on. Tell me when you've got a good grip.'

I slipped the loop over my boot, and grabbing hold of the line with one hand. 'Heave away,' I said, looking up, using the other hand to fend off the wall a bit.

Botts, bracing itself over the far end, pulled me up, scraping here and there along the wall, seemingly effortlessly, to a point where I could grasp the top of the wall and pull myself up the rest of the way.

'Over the side, I will lower you down,' it said.

So I turned and swung my legs over, and started dropping, the line breaking my fall. I reached the wet bracken and called up. 'I'm down.'

'Aye,' it said, and leaped lightly down beside me.

'On my back, Captain. I can make much better time than you. Time is of the essence.'

I didn't argue. I could hear the muffled roar of several fliers approaching. On my own, I'd not be able to do much more than a walk. I wrapped my arms around its neck and jumped up, wrapping my legs around its waist. It tucked its arms under my legs lifting them out of its legs' way. 'Hold on tight, it'll be rough going.'

We took off, bouncing into the deep pine and fern forest. It was rough going. I was sopping wet in the first thirty seconds, but they built robots tough, back in the old days – all D-matter construction with powerful bio-designed engines to drive its limbs – so I was a minor burden as Botts raced through the deep, damp shadows of the green-black pines, the tall pale ferns swooshing past us, in a spray of cold mist. Above the tree tops, I could hear the roar of two fliers weaving back and forth, searching. They may've had thermal sensors and radar, but even so, with the dense tree cover, they'd have to be right on top of us to get a read, and indeed, after several minutes, we left them behind us.

'Listen Botts,' I said as we bounded along. 'The person who kidnapped me is the old owner of the ship, Hawker Vinden whom we all thought dead. He wants to take back his ship and pay the crew off. It doesn't matter if you can't get me out, just as long as you escape and get back to the ship. Tell Molaye to accept his offer and get off the ship. Once they're aboard I'm sure you can deal with them one way or another. We can dispose of them and get clear of here. Clear?'

'Aye. If need be. However, I see no reason why we all can't get back. Just hold on.'

We reached the clearing – really a narrow lane in the woods – less than half an hour later. We must have covered 10 kilometers through the woods. A flier was waiting. I dropped down and staggered through the hatch. Molaye and Kie were in the front seats, Molaye with a big grin, Kie looking serious. 'Are you alright, Captain?' he asked.

'Great. Thanks mates. Let's lift,' I added as Botts slipped in beside me.

'Right,' replied Molaye, and the flier lurched forward and began to race down the narrow lane. 'There are four fliers searching not far off, perhaps we can slip by them if we keep low and run fast,' she added.

She kept the flier in the lane, just above the ground, the trees flying by in a blur. Luckily the lane was nearly straight, though we were brushing the pine boughs whenever we had to swing to follow a slight turn.

'What happened Captain?' she asked, conversationally as we shot down the lane.

'I can tell you later, when you can give me more of your attention.'

'Oh, I've attention to spare,' she laughed, glancing back at me, just to scare me.

'The usual story. Darted when I didn't care to meet with some unnamed person. What makes it unusual are the characters. I met Glen Colin, in the flesh, and then, well, another ghost of sort, Hawker Vinden.'

'Neb! Our old owner?'

'The very same. Claimed to have faked his death to escape from their old enemies who'd found them – The Four Shipmates – at last. Guess I'll have to believe him.'

'What'd he want?'

'His ship back,' I said, and spun my tale, as we twisted through the trees, making sure to mention the importance of getting Botts back aboard as first priority.

'They've made us,' she said shortly after I finished my tale. She sent the flier up just sweeping over most of the trees. She dodged the others. This was a tourist rental model, so there was a clear glass dome, and looking back, I could see two fliers trailing us, just visible through the rain. The pursuers were in more powerful machines and began to creep closer despite Molaye flying ours flat out.

'We'll be at the flier port in five minutes. Have them meet us there,' she said, and Kie touched his com link and relayed the message.

'Elana and Sol have the longboat at the local spaceport. They'll meet us at the airfield,' she added for my benefit as we came to the end of the forest and shot over pastures and crop land.

The pursing fliers were up to us by the time we swept over the airfield on the edge of a small city. There were fliers parked in rows before the main terminal and a ring of zep hangars around the field.

We swept around and settled on the tarmac near a line of rental fliers. The two pursuit fliers circled overhead. Perhaps by making everything so public, Molaye assumed their hands would be tied. But this was a drift world. I was far from certain anything they might attempt would do more than raise a few eyebrows.

'We'll just wait for the boat,' she said, shutting down the flier. 'The rental company has an agency here, so we'll be able to get our deposit back,' she added, smugly.

The other fliers landed too, one on each side, about twenty meters away. Looking up, I saw two more fliers circling overhead. At the moment, no one was doing anything – waiting for instructions, or simply waiting to see what our next move was.

'Remember Botts needs to get to the ship,' I said.

'Don't worry, Wil. Elana can deal with fliers...' she said, even as the longboat roared out of the low, grey clouds overhead.

Elana swung the boat around and came in just over the tarmac, aiming to land between us and one of the fliers on the ground. Our flier bounced in the blast of the longboat's landing jets. The moment she had her boat alongside, she tilted it away from us and poured on the power, shooting over us. The back blast of her landing jets flipped the flier next to us on its side. She swung around again to serve the other flier the same treatment. They tried to take off, but Elana caught it just as it lifted, sending it bouncing across the field. She came back and settled as near to our flier as possible, rocking our flier alarmingly with the landing jet's exhaust. We opened our hatches and tumbled out even as the longboat's hatch swung up and scrambled aboard.

'To the ship,' I said as the hatch swung close. 'And tell Riv to get his engines wound up. We'll leave orbit as soon as we secure the boat.'

In talking with the crew afterward, I found that Botts had played a key role in remotely charting Vinden's security system before they went in. It has all sorts of sensors and radios that it can deploy to see and do with, allowing it to manipulate electronic devices and hack digital systems. I'd have been dead half a dozen times over, if I'd not let Rafe bring Botts back to life. Sometimes, like Grandmama says, you make your luck.

03

We called on Ravin two more times during our now our annual visit. We broke orbit as soon as we'd discharged our cargo. No one went downside. We received no communications from Hawker Vinden. We both had secrets to keep, and I presume we kept them. I'd hoped that he'd gone on to try to recapture whatever drift throne he was determined to regain using some other ship.

Nadde got her time in and passed for her environmental engineer's ticket, freeing Kie to go back to being a systems tech full time, which in turn, allowed Rafe to retire – at least for a while on Constina. He said with Kie back he wasn't needed on our milk run, and wanted to expand his horizons a little. Which I took to mean hacking the Amdia Guild and trade systems. But who knows? He may find other things to interest him.

To no one's surprise, Kie and Elana announced a partnership, though a less intense one than he had with Molaye. They kept their own cabins, but both seemed happy with that arrangement, as did Molaye.

Molaye's would-be partner, Linnor, was sailing the Kryver Reef again and we never crossed orbits with her, so they only keep in touch with radio-packets. Still, Molaye was content, in part because she wants to be a ship's captain before they renewed their partnership – a partnership of equals. It was a matter of pride with her. The fact is, she's ready for a ship of her own, though hardly 30 years old. I knew I was going to have to decide to either turn the ship over to her, or push her out to find a ship of her own to command. I'd much rather the former since I was nearly ready to move on to a second career. And yet, nearly was the operative word. My credit balance, thanks to the Azurete was flush enough, but my fondness for my shipmates, Grandmama, and the fact that, barring the occasional kidnapping, we had settled into a comfortable milk run, a routine round of planets and drift stations, that suited me so well, kept me from moving on, one run after another, until, as it turned out, I'd put it off one run too long.

### Chapter 71 Tangled Orbits

01

'I have a ship's boat requesting to speak with the captain. Shall I switch it over?' asked Elana who was on harbor watch on the bridge. We had arrived in Constina orbit two days prior.

'Any ID?'

'No. Just an audio request.'

'Hum... I suppose, thanks,' I replied, reluctantly – couldn't imagine who it could be – but it best be faced. I called up the com screen on my desk.

'Wilcrofter, here,' I said as the screen lighted up and a face appeared on it.

She stared for a moment or two and broke out laughing.

There was a catch in my breath and for a few seconds I just watched her laughing, wondering abstractly how she'd changed. In no obvious way, but she had.

'Hello Min. It is wonderful to see you. What's so funny?'

'Your,' she gasped, 'Your pointy beard,' she replied making a motion with her hand on her chin to describe it. 'Why, you look – almost sinister, Captain Wilcrofter!'

'Eight years in the drifts have made me almost sinister. You're looking rather sinister yourself, in a sort of drifteer pirate way,' I added. She was her usual stylish self with her black hair pulled tight and a cap rakishly low over her eyes.

'Eight years in the drifts,' she replied. 'We've much to talk about. Privately. Can you forgo your nightly inspection and get away without further explanation?'

'For you, yes. But why such secrecy?'

'Because I've a lot of questions I want answers to before I care to make a general appearance. An old vanity of mine.'

'Right. Five minutes at the port gangplank.'

'I'll be waiting,' she said and broke the connection.

I pinged Botts' com link. 'That's our owner's boat approaching. She's requested a private confab with me. I don't expect trouble, but keep tabs just the same. Hawker Vinden must be involved in this.'

'Aye, Captain. I've traced the boat back to the Rift Raven, an eight-box trader which arrived in orbit four hours ago.'

'That sounds right. Keep an eye on it too.'

'Aye.'

I grabbed my cap and stepping out of my office, looked into the bridge. 'An old shipmate, Elana. If I'm not back by the start of the second watch, have Molaye ping me.'

'Aye, Captain,' she replied. If she wondered how an old shipmate found me, she didn't show it.

I made my way down to the port landing stage, deep in thought. There'd be complications now – I'd put decisions off too long.

The hounds were eagerly waiting on the landing stage. The white hull of the Ghost had already latched on to the gangplank dock. Opening the safety door, I followed the dogs out onto the gangplank. The access hatch slid open as I reached the end of the gangplank.

'Come aboard, Captain,' she called from the interior.

'Sorry guys. Stay,' I said to the hounds and climbed through the top hatch of the Ghost and swung down into its main compartment. The hatch slid closed above me.

'Join me in the cockpit. We'll go downside. It's been a long time since I've been under a real sun on a real planet,' she said, peering out of the cockpit's narrow access hatch.

I slipped through the cockpit hatch and settled into the copilot's chair next to her, just as I'd done, what? More than a decade ago, now? I took her offered hand. 'It's great to see you, Tallith. And to see you looking so good,' I said. She did look good. And it was good to see her. But I couldn't turn a blind eye to a tinge of sadness just at the edge of my consciousness. My life was going to change.

'I hope you're not feeling the need to flatter your owner, Captain. But it is good to see you, Captain Wilcrofter,' she said with a smile. 'And, by the way, it's Captain Vane, Ly Vane. You're not the only one who's been sailing under false colors.'

'Aye, for the same reasons, I'm sure. Tallith Min died in the Despar reef along with the Lost Star and its entire crew, which brings me to the burning question. How did you find us? We've never told Kardea where we've been operating, much less our name changes and modifications. I'm guessing, was it Hawker Vinden, or has the Patrol?' I asked, watching her as I buckled up.

She grinned, as she gently fired the steering rockets to break contact with the gangplank and edge away from the Starry Shore. 'Did you think I'd not recognize my Lost Star even if it's powder blue with different balancing engine cowlings?'

'Well, Hawker did, but I don't see how you could. There's not a marking you'd recognize on the old gal. I've put my own dents and scars to make her mine,' I replied. 'This is no chance meeting.'

She sighed. 'Ah, well, you're a suspicious old spaceer these days.'

'With good reason. So?'

'Yes, it's not chance. Yes, I would've never recognized my ship. And yes, it was indeed, Uncle Hawk, or someone pretending to be Uncle Hawk who told me where to find you and under what guise. But let's save all that until we're down. I need to take a deep breath of real air.'

'I can imagine. I've been feeling the same way lately.'

She gave me a sidelong look, but said nothing and took us down to Leathport in her usual, fast, hot and screaming style. Unwilling to die in a fiery ball, I didn't distract her with small talk.

'Where can we go to talk without being overheard?' she asked as the Ghost's main hatch closed behind us, the leading edges of its stubby wings still throwing off enough heat to drive us quickly away. Turning her face to the low sun and taking a deep breath. 'A real world, again!'

'Well, there's a long beach with a yacht club and a fine restaurant twenty minutes down the coast by flier,' I replied. 'Lots of ambient noise so we can talk freely.'

'That sounds grand. Let's lift.'

So we made our way in the fading summer sunlight of early evening to one of the velowalk terminals scattered about the small craft port. I took her in, as we walked. She was even more the drifteer pirate captain seen whole. She was wearing high black boots over her black slacks. A black double breasted blouse with lots of gold buttons, a short black jacket with gold buttons as well, the white scarf and the black rakish cap low over her eyes completed her ensemble. She carried herself with casual self-assurance and a bit of swagger. It occurred to me that it was going to be interesting putting her and Molaye together. Slightly different styles, but the same attitude. Sparks might fly. And there was something else different.

'You've your legs back! Did you visit one of the First Worlds?' I asked. 'If I may be so bold?'

She laughed. 'Oh, you can get anything in the drifts if you know where to look. Had 'em grown, first class First World standard clones. Ryth thought it'd be prudent, given our work. I was simply too memorable with the mech-legs.'

'You're simply memorable, mech-legs or no.'

'You're trying to flatter me. What have you been up to besides dolling up my ship?'

'Nothing. Who's Ryth?'

'The Patrol agent. Now answer my question.'

'Ah. Yes. I remember,' I said, and decided not to go further, adding, 'When we can talk.'

We engaged an idling flier outside the spaceport gates and exchanged casual news of our shipmates while the clearsteel towers of Leath slowly faded in the summer evening's haze. I had the pilot set us down on the knoll above the beach where Grandmama and I usually land for our private talks. Indeed, I'd been there only two days before, just after arriving, to walk the beach with her. We followed the narrow path down the low bluff and through the waving grass of the sand dunes of the broad beach. The roar of the distant breakers, the hiss of surf over the sands, the ever present wind and sea birds made it a perfect place to talk without fear of being overheard or spied on. I stopped to take off my boots – a matter of habit, I guess – and she followed suit.

You met Uncle Hawk. Was it him?' she asked as she sat beside me on the dune.

'You haven't?'

'No. We've only exchanged radio packets. He left a message with Kardea that offered enough incidents with details that only he and I would know, to nearly convince me he wasn't dead. Since then we've exchanged a series of packets, and well, here I am...'

'Were you often in contact with Kardea?' I asked, off topic, but curious. 'I never received a word from you.'

'You never sent one to me, either,' she replied, tartly. Which was true.

'Well, yes. I guess I never had a reason to, and well, seeing that we were considered lost in the Despar reef – at least by our enemies, we've kept a very low profile. Our families still think we're trading deep in the drifts.'

'I'll want to know all about that. But first, what's your opinion of Uncle Hawk. He said he met you, and well, you weren't cooperative...

'Well, I refused to sell him your ship, if you call that not being cooperative...'

'That's not important. What is, is what you make of him. Did he fake his death, or is this some deeper plot?'

I considered my reply. 'First off, I don't know how much he told you, but before he kidnapped me to charter, buy, or hijack the Starry Shore, he tried to charter us anonymously for undefined drift work, work I'd not touch with a cargo crane. He claimed to have a private beacon on her, so he could identify her even disguised. Anyway, two years ago, he sent Glen Colin to fetch me when I was down on Ravin...'

'A ghost?'

'No, the real Glen Colin,' I said and launched into a short version of that incident. 'So I'll warn you at launch, that the dart incident didn't sit well with me, nor did my subsequent interview with him create a very good opinion of Hawker Vinden. He seemed quite different. So you'll have to take that into account...'

'Noted. Now tell me all about him,' she ordered.

I told her how I found Vinden in great detail.

'So is he the real Vinden?' she asked when I finished.

I shrugged. 'I didn't know him all that well before. He had a great deal more bonhomie back in Azminn. But, I suppose, he's more bitter now, or more driven, or perhaps we're seeing his true Four Shipmates character. And really, what does it matter if he's a clone or an eternal man, if he has Vinden's memories and purpose?'

'It doesn't,' she sighed. 'I just wanted to make certain that it wasn't some sort of elaborate trap. Though, I suppose if it is, he wouldn't have sent me here to collect the Lost Star...'

We walked in silence for several minutes, the thin sheets of water from the dying waves splashing over our feet.

'I don't have a choice,' she said.

'You need to meet him, if only to demand answers. You've just spent eight years in an eight-box trader simply because he wouldn't tell you what you should've been told after your parents were killed. But after that conversation, when talk turns to whatever he seems so intent on doing, you will have choices. I think you should give them a great deal of thought. What did he say he wanted to do, and why does he need the Starry Shore?'

'Oh, he vaguely suggested that it was to right a wrong. Something to do with the murder of his mother – my grandmother – and the usurping of her throne. The political angle we speculated about long ago.'

'And some sort of military adventure, I suspect. The thing to remember is that the better part of a century has passed and half the people living will likely not remember whatever injustice was done back then.'

We walked on in silence, the sea bird whirling and squawking overhead.

'We'll only know more when we meet him. So now, tell me, Captain, what have you been up to? Have you made me a rich ship-owner in my absence?'

'I'm happy to report, I have. A very rich ship-owner.'

She gave me a look, trying and failing to keep the surprise out of her expression. 'Do tell me how.'

I finished my report as we reached the harbor. Amdia had set and the harbor lights twinkled in the soft twilight. 'So you see why I'm so reluctant to go off to Ravin on a moment's notice. Oh, you can afford it, but well, we've worked very hard to establish ourselves in this system and we now have a nice, steady, lucrative run. You have enough credits to buy a second ship and deliver the ship to him within half a year if it's so essential to him. He's waited four or five years already, so another six months is neither dust nor gas – and he could have her without disrupting your business. Buy a second ship, have it outfitted while the Starry Shore makes one last run, which ends up on Ravin anyway. By then your second ship will be ready to replace the Starry Shore. And well, it would incite less comment if we didn't suddenly abandon a lucrative run to go off to the drifts – and hollow at that. I don't think drawing attention to ourselves is something Vinden would want us to do. Not with the enemies we have.' That was a lie. I was certain our enemies would know no matter what we did. Grandmama would see to that. A second ship might postpone for a while her finding out that Min had returned. Or not, depending on how good her intelligence network is. But running off to the drift would set alarm bells ringing – even if I said nothing to her at all. And I didn't see myself doing that. I was torn by two conflicting loyalties which could not be reconciled. I should've been growing cha...

She sighed. 'Yes, I see all that. The thing is, it doesn't matter anymore. Uncle Hawk says that I can expect to leave the Unity behind forever, and never look back once I see what I'm to rule – should things come off as he expects them to.'

'A big if. Why not go to Ravin and see him before you decide to pull the Starry Shore out of its orbit? If he convinces you, we can go. It's the more prudent way.'

She gave me a look. 'You haven't changed that much after all, have you?"

'No. I suppose not. Still, what I'm saying makes sense.' But only if I could keep her reappearance secret. If not, I'd likely be putting her in danger by delaying whatever Vinden had planned by six months. There seemed to be no escaping painful consequences.

She walked in silence for a few minutes as we approached the yacht harbor, and then she shook her head and said, 'No. I've spent the last eight years looking for answers. I want those answers and I intend to follow them wherever they lead, without distractions. You don't have a contract with Jardinn, so we're free to pursue other avenues. We'll pay them the freight charges for any boxes here on Constina – we can easily afford that – and they'll not complain, since we needn't do that at all,' and looking at me, 'I know this hurts. You've worked too hard to see it just tossed away on some wild, rock in the drift venture, but the Starry Shore is apparently essential for Uncle Hawk's plans, and the sooner we deliver her to him, the sooner we'll know the answers to all our questions. Really Wil, thanks to you I don't need the credits do I? We'll fix things so that you'll not lose your good name. I'll take all the blame... Owners, you know.'

'Yes, Min. Owners,' I replied. I hadn't expected my second ship idea to lift. It had been a work of desperation. And likely hopeless, as well. Grandmama likely had too many lines of information not to connect the arrival of an 8 box drift trader and any sudden change in my plans, be it buying a second ship or running off to the drifts hollow. Neb, she might even connect the arrival of an 8 box trader out of the deep drifts to Min without me tipping her off. Really, the safest course might well be to clear Constina as soon as possible, so they'd not have time to do anything here. Once in the drifts, or wherever we bound, well, that's a rift to cross when the time came...

And even as I was concerned about Min, I was concerned about how Min's arrival would affect Grandmama's relations within the Order, since her protection of me would likely have to come to light. As far as I knew, we'd let my status as a target of the Order ride since there was no pressing need to resolve it. We may've let it ride too long. Perhaps she could simply not claim me as her grandson, and claim not to have recognized us as the Lost Star until the arrival of Min... It was going to be complicated and I wasn't looking forward to what I'd need do – whatever it was that would need doing.

As it turned out, I didn't have long to wait. We'd just passed through the club house to reach the lamp-lit terrace that over looked the harbor, when...

'Why, Wil! This is a surprise, I hadn't expected to see you tonight,' said Grandmama M'Risha, stepping to my side. She gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek, both of which I returned, and stepping back, taking my hands in hers, gave me a sly smile. I knew Grandmama well enough to know that she was having fun. At my expense.

'Oh my, I see you already have a dinner partner,' she exclaimed in mock surprise with a glance to Min, who was taking this all in with a faint, somewhat bemused, smile. 'I am so sorry to intrude.' She wasn't.

'Yes, I have a dinner partner, and no, you're not sorry at all. Nevertheless, you're more than welcome to join us. May I present Captain Ly Vane,' I said with a nod.

'Captain Vane,' she said with a smile. 'Delighted to meet you... Your ship escapes my memory,' she added with a raised eyebrow and an offered hand. 'A rare drift bird, perhaps?'

'Aye. The Rift Raven. Happy to meet you,' replied Min warily, taking her hand.

'Ah yes, the eight box trader that just arrived?'

'Why, yes...' giving Grandmama a hard look.

'I'm in the export business to the drifts and keep tabs on the shipping in orbit,' said Grandmama, 'And I am just giving Wil here, a hard time. I don't intend to intrude.'

'Captain Vane is the owner of the Starry Shore,' I said simply.

'Indeed,' said Grandma with a glance to me, but I think she'd already reached that conclusion.

'And this is M'Risha Drae, the managing director of Jardinn Export Services, and I should add, the proprietor of a spaceers' row establishment of ill repute, so she makes it her business to keep tabs on all the ships in the orbit for two reasons.'

'Ah,' said Min with a sudden knowing smile in my direction. 'That makes everything clearer.' I'm sure it did. And didn't.

'M'Risha also happens to be my grandmother,' I added.

'Your grandmother?' she exclaimed with wide eyes. She considered M'Risha for a second and then she laughed, 'Not the drifteer grandmother!'

'That appears to be what I'm famous for in Wil's circle of friends.'

'Infamous,' laughed Min. 'Why, whenever Wil did anything non-Unity Standard, he'd blame it on you.'

'Non-Unity Standard?' said Grandma with a glance to me adding with mock indignation, 'My grandson?'

'Hard to believe, isn't it?'

'I've heard the tales. These days, I'm trying to keep him out of trouble. Still, I suppose I must shoulder my share of the blame,' said Grandma with a smile. 'I've five hundred generations of drifteers in my heritage, as does his grandfather.' It wasn't an apology.

'Well, Grandma M'Risha, I've spent the last eight years trading in the deep drifts, and I believe I can recognize a drifteer when I meet one, so I believe you,' laughed Min. 'I'm dying to learn how you and my Captain got together, so let's find a table. I've lived on synth food for eight years, and I'm hungry. Though I must warn you, I've plans for the Starry Shore so I should be the one to break that news and save your grandson the anguish.'

'Ah, but well, that might be for the best...'

'I hope I can make it right with you and I'll start by treating you to dinner.'

02

We – Min, Grandmama, and I – took a flier back to the spaceport where Grandmama dropped us off before going on to check on her spaceers row establishment.

'That was fun. You've a very interesting grandmother, Wil.'

'Aye,' I said. 'She is.'

'And she's still all drifteer. Drifteers have a way about them that you can't miss once you know them.'

'Aye. I saw it in you too, so it's no wonder you got along famously with Grandmama.'

She turned to me. 'My parents came from outside the Unity, but I don't feel any affinity for the drift worlds and stations I've visited either.'

'Well, you're not exactly Unity Standard,' I replied. 'And you certainly look like a drift pirate.'

'And don't forget it, Captain. But that's why I need to meet Uncle Hawk, and perhaps follow him to where I do belong.'

'I suppose. Hopefully he'll make it clear what it involves before you commit.'

She shrugged. 'Does it matter? We'll know more shortly. I am sorry to tear you away from your grandmother and your cozy orbit.'

'The life of a spaceer,' I said. 'Though I think I'm coming to the end of that life.'

'We'll see about that,' she replied guardedly.

'Aye. So what are your orders?'

'Fuel up and wait in the offing until I can complete the purchase of the Rift Raven,' she replied. 'I'll have to buy out the Patrol's share of the ship since it has not been ten years. I have the credits, even without the ones you've earned, I'm just hoping it won't involve a lot of red tape. And I must break up with Ryth, which I hope to do without too much fuss as well.'

'Ryth?'

'You know, the Patrol agent. We've been partners. The arrangement made things easy aboard ship. A small ship and all. Everything settled...' she said, without looking at me. 'We're well matched. It worked out fine.'

'Then why break up?' I asked, trying to sound casual.

'Why? Well, Ryth is a dedicated Patrol lifer. You have to be, to be an undercover agent. And given Uncle Hawk's mania for secrecy, I can't imagine he'd want the Patrol in on his secrets. So taking Ryth along would force him to betray either the Patrol or me. I couldn't do that to him. No good solution, really. Still, we're young and dissolving a partnership, may not be pleasant, but it's the far better course in the long run.'

'He doesn't know about Vinden?'

'No one knows. I've kept my correspondence with Uncle Hawk strictly secret. Even Vyn and Ten don't know about it. Uncle Hawk was very definite on keeping everything secret for as long as possible. He said we're so close to righting the wrong that it'd be a great tragedy if word leaked out. As far as the others know, we've come to Amdia because we're all in need of a little rest and recreation.'

Little did she know. Moving fast was our best option. Though how St Bleyth would react to the reappearance of Min and what their current relationship is with their client is an unknown.

'What are you going to tell Ryth, if not the truth?' I asked.

'Oh, I'll tell him the truth. Enough of it so that he understands that if he follows me, he'd likely have to betray me as well.'

'And Vyn and Ten?'

'They've been out of the Patrol for forty years or more. Their first loyalty is to me. Besides, they're still looking after me,' she laughed sarcastically. 'They'll follow me, whether I like it or not.'

My com link buzzed. 'Captain?' said Molaye in my ear.

'It's Molaye. I asked that she'd check with me at the start of the watch,' I said to Min as I opened the link.

'Morning Molaye. I'm fine and will be up shortly.'

'Was that the Ghost?' she asked. She must have checked out the ship's sensor record before calling.

'Aye, and keep it to yourself. I'll explain when I get back.'

'Right, Captain, if you say so. I'll be waiting.'

'Soon,' I said and closed the link, adding to Min, 'A precaution. We have enemies.'

She nodded. 'Yes, we do. Can you catch a shuttle up? I'll make my grand appearance after we've sailed.'

'Right. What should I tell them?'

She shrugged. 'We're sailing for the drifts on my orders. Say no more than that. Hush-hush. If anyone doesn't want to continue to our final destination, they can leave the ship on Ravin. For now, everyone stays. You know, the old 48-hour rule,' she added with a grin.

'Aye, I believe I've heard of that.

03

I found myself too tired to think as I rode a shuttle back to the ship. Probably for the best. I saw no point in keeping secrets from Molaye, so I briefed her on Min's plans and told her she could tell the crew we were sailing for the drifts on Min's orders once we fueled and cleared orbit. I asked Molaye to gather a list of what consumables we'd need, and after I had a nap, we'd shift the ship to the fueling station and go downside to arrange for the delivery of needed supplies.

I used the sleep machine to get a solid nap before moving the ship to the fueling station and turning her over to Riv. Myes came to see me as I was preparing to run downside with Molaye.

'Ah, Skipper. Where do Nadde and I stand? We were planning to take a voyage off...'

'Aye, of course. I'm afraid it'll be more than a voyage. I've no idea when or if we'll ever return to Constina,' I replied. 'I've not been given specific sailing orders.'

'Are you willing to sail without us? Seeing that we haven't signed off yet and might be within the 48-hour period,' he asked warily.

'An awkward question,' I replied with a grim laugh. 'Our owner told me to keep everyone on board. We'll be calling on a drift world where anyone who doesn't care to continue on can sign off. However, we're still a Guild ship, I haven't been given a definite sailing time yet, and you've already given unofficial notice about leaving the ship in Constina, so I guess I can let you and Nadde leave as we've agreed.'

'Won't Talley be...' he trailed off, giving me a questioning look.

'I'll deal with that. You just keep our plans, what little you know of them, to yourself,' I said. 'Don't worry about it. You're simply exercising your Guild rights.'

I called up their contracts and signed them off. 'I hate to sail without you and Nadde – we're family, but I'd hate to sail with you, too. A long, iffy voyage to some undisclosed location is definitely not what you agreed to when Nadde and you signed back on. I'm pretty leery myself, and I'd rather keep as many of my old shipmates clear of it as possible. It'll be all volunteers after our next planet of call. This then simply saves you the passage back. But clear your gear out and get downside, just to make certain.'

'Are you sure? We could sail on till then. I'd hate to put you between a rock and a quantum storm.'

I shook my head, 'Thanks, but I'll deal with it. I'm sure Min will understand your reasons. And, Myes...'

'Yes?'

'Would you get the word out to the crew that if anyone else wants to sign off now rather than in the drifts, the next few hours are the launch window, before I have a definite sailing time and while we're still a Guild ship. I've been given my orders, but there's nothing I nor our owner can do about it should they care to exercise their rights as long as I haven't a set sailing time...'

'Aye. But I think they're rather looking forward to it.'

I shook my head. 'I wish I was...'

04

It was late morning in Leath, and seeing me walk through the office doors, M'Risha smiled and told her receptionist she'd be out of the office for a few hours with Captain Wilcrofter. Then, hooking my arm in hers, she led me to the lift and a flier waiting on the roof to fly us to the beach talking only of inconsequential things connected with the dinner and Captain Vane.

'I'm sorry about all this,' I began as we walked down to the beach.

'Whatever for?'

'For putting you in such an awkward position.' I replied. 'You certainly must report the appearance of Min and that'll force you to report my appearance as well, three years ago, not to mention our business relationship. You might want to forget who we are.'

'First of all, Wil, let me worry about my position in the Order. You've other things to worry about. Your grandfather has been rather guarded on the question of what to do with you so as long as you were in my charge and in no danger, he wasn't in any hurry to act. However, I think we can count on him should things turn iffy. This situation might just be what he needs to act. But even so, our protection will not keep you from adverse effects connected with the dangerous company you keep.'

'Right,' I said. 'I expect that. I don't plan on giving the Order time to act before we disappear into the drifts. And after that, well, I'm not sure I'll be back.'

'I wouldn't like that, Wil. I've grown used to having you around every now and then.'

'I don't like it either, Grandmama, but I gave my word... And, well, I dare say no more. I'm more concerned for you, since you're going to have to admit that you've turned a blind eye on me for three years. It might be better if you turned a blind eye to our relationship instead, and claim no knowledge of who I actually am. I can look after myself and take precautions. And I may be gone for many years, so it might just be better if you abandoned any plans to clear my name.'

'Not an option,' she said, slipping her arm around mine and pulling me close as we walked. 'I've got it covered. You see, keeping you close was all a part of my covert operation to locate Tallith Min. You've been my tethered goat, my bait, and I briefed at least one of my superiors about this operation,' and giving me a bright smile added, 'your grandfather. I'm in the clear. And since the operation has, in fact, succeeded in bringing Tallith Min into a position where we might be able to take action, my operation has been successful. I hope you won't feel guilty about that. The moment I recognized you, that result was inevitable unless you ran and kept running.'

Leave it to Grandmama to have a convincing cover story well in hand. I didn't believe it was anything but her carefully prepared cover story for this contingency. She was a smart, hard-boiled woman, but I knew she kept me close for reasons best left unsaid, so I laughed and said 'Baa!'

'You know; you can stay on here. I'm that certain I can clear your name.'

I shook my head, 'No. Not that I'm doubting you, but I've obligations, and well, even if you prevail on my account, I'm not sure that the Order will be all that kindly disposed to you for finding Min. Really, you've turned over the rock that reveals yet another failure of the Order. What, if anything, will they tell their client? And if they don't and the client finds out, as I suspect they will, what then? The Order is between a rock and a quantum storm and I don't see how they can get out of this situation untarnished. You may only be the messenger, but messengers often take the fall for the unwelcome messages they bring. I've a feeling your tethered goat gambit won't win you much acclaim...'

She laughed. 'True enough. You were born for the Order, Wil. Still, I was merely doing my duty. Covering up the failures of Covert Operations is the Masters' job, not mine. We'll just let them chart that course, won't we?'

'Be careful, Grandmama. Don't you be the goat that has to be sacrificed.'

'The failures of the Min contract can't be laid at my feet. The Masters of the Monastery won't be happy, but they'll find no actionable fault in my actions,' she replied, adding. 'I'm not from a family that produces sacrificial goats.'

'But it does produce black sheep...'

She laughed. 'Aye, black sheep. But not sacrificial goats.'

'Then I'll not worry about you. And you don't worry about me, either. I know enough about assassinations in the Unity to doubt you can arrange anything before we sail, and once we sail it's the deep drifts. I assume that despite the quasi-religious theme of the Order, it's still a business that employs business managers. The Order has already lost a great deal of credits, not to mention lives, as a direct consequence of the Min contract. To continue to pursue Min into the drifts will only add to those losses, certainly in credits, if not in lives, with little to gain. Plus, I suspect it's too late now to prevent the contingency your client had hired the Order to prevent. I realize the Order has a reputation to maintain, but the client in this case is not going to be impressed no matter what happens now. Even the Order has to cut their losses in credits and reputation sooner or later.'

'Don't assume that.'

'Well, I've no intention of letting my guard down. And though it's self-serving, I will tell you sincerely, that I hope the Order isn't foolish enough to attack the Starry Shore. I don't lose sleep over the prospect of facing a ship of the Sister Sinister class. Or even two.'

'You're that confident?'

'Aye. I doubt there's a crew in space who's seen more action in space than mine. And my Unity Standard veneer is pretty thin.'

'You let the Falcon Rock pirates take to their boats...'

'I have more respect for the Order. I won't take any chances. And remember all those actions were prior to our dedicated anti-missile system, so they can expect losses if they try. Make that clear in your report. Hopefully they'll do a cost/benefit analysis before issuing orders to eliminate the Starry Shore. I'd hate for some poor captain of the Order to come upon us and feel that it was his duty to take us on.'

'You've become quite blood thirsty,' said Grandmama, who, I suspect was rather pleased. A chip off of the same asteroid.

'Nah, it's just my beard that gave you that impression,' I laughed. 'However, D'Lay said that sometimes members of the Order find themselves on opposing sides in a conflict. So despite my heritage, I'd have no problem blowing an Order ship to atoms to preserve my ship, and look the Masters of the Monastery in the eye afterward.'

She gave me a look and another smile, 'Perhaps you will, one day. I'll pass your advice along.'

We walked in silence for a while.

'I'm going to miss you, Grandmama.'

'And I, you, son.'

'Perhaps when this is settled we can renew our acquaintance, though I suppose I'd need some sort of assurance things had been settled before contacting you. I'd hate to put you in an awkward position.'

'If it's settled and I believe it will be, I'll mention meeting you to your mother. If not, I won't. So if she knows of our meetings, you'll know it'll be safe to contact me. But, Wil, if you haven't the time – you can just call on me. Family trumps the Order.'

'I'd not want to put you into that position. I can look after myself, but, I don't want to lose touch, so I will see you again, when I can.'

'I'm sure you will,' she replied. Neither of us believed that.

We walked and talked our way to the Yacht Club and had lunch before saying our goodbyes.

'I really hope our orbits will cross again soon, Grandmama. I'm happy I've had this chance to get to know you and work with you. And you know how much I appreciate everything you've done for me.'

'Yes, and I've grown... fond of you, Wil. Please take care. And when you can, come and see me again.'

I gave her a grin. Fond of was probably a pretty notable accomplishment with Grandmama. Still I couldn't resist needling her, 'I've come to love you too, Grandmama. And I'm rather proud to have an Abbess for a grandmother. And I will take care, and see you again, when I can.'

She grabbed the lobe of my ear and gave it a twist. 'You don't tease your Grandmother or an Abbess, son.'

'Yes, Grandmama.'

05

I was waiting for Molaye in a cafe inside the main terminal building. The late afternoon sun was slanting through the tall clearsteel windows spilling across the wide mall when I saw her making her way through these strips of light to our agreed rendezvous. She wasn't wearing her pirate piece, this was the Unity after all. Still, the ghost of it was there in her swaying swagger. I noted how groups of burly spaceers shifted well out of her way instead of brushing past her like they would for an ordinary spaceer. And this, before they could make out the first mate's ring on her cap's emblem. She radiated that air of easy, carefree right to command that you can't fake. And everyone could read it. She smiled and greeted spaceers she recognized, and, as she approached, grinned when she saw me.

'How'd it go Wil?' she asked as she settled into the chair across the small table from me. 'We're all going to miss Grandmama M'Risha.'

'And the free drinks at the Wandering Star.'

She laughed, 'There was a lot more than free drinks. She's a good mate.'

'Aye, and I will miss her as well. We've grown quite fond of each other. Hopefully, I'll have a chance to get to know her better when I've given up this life.'

She laughed. 'And when will that be?'

'This will be my last voyage as captain. I hope the ship will be yours, at the end of it.'

She got serious fast, 'Really Wil? I thought you still had at least a decade left, now that we'd settled into a nice milk run. Or we had.'

'No. I was just letting you season, not that you needed it, but since you didn't seem too restless I kept putting off moving on, reluctant to leave the gang...'

'I'm not restless. Not at all.'

'You'd be soon enough. And I'm truly tired of this shiftless life. So it's time. You see, long ago I made a promise to Min to stand by her when she confronts the killers of her parents. She's never actually agreed to that, but that now seems to be in our future.'

'Really?'

'This is strictly between us, but it looks like we're going to Min's home world, or moon, or whatever. Neb knows where we're going, but from what Vinden has told Min, I gather that there's a throne to be recovered from usurpers, and it's a case of do or die trying.'

'And you want to go along?' she asked. 'You always told me that all you wanted was a milk run.'

'All I wanted was a milk run, but that's hardly what we got, at least until these last few years. And did it last? On Calissant I promised Min that I'd stand by her and I intend to keep that promise – if she lets me. But even if that doesn't fly, this will be my last voyage. It's on to cha planting, or restoring vintage rocket boats, or something on a big, safe Unity world. And well, you're ready, and I don't want you to get impatient. I want to turn the Starry Shore over to you. Someone I trust.'

'I'm not impatient. I'm not sure I even want to be a captain. I like serving with you.'

'And I'd not want anyone else. But you do want to be a ship's captain. And you're ready to be one.

She grinned. Couldn't deny it. 'Do you think Min will appoint me?' she asked.

'Who else? And I'm sure you'll have as free a hand as I've had. She has no interest in being a ship-owner anymore. It will be yours. Hopefully you'll see the advantage of a milk run sooner rather than later. But that'll be your choice in a few months.'

She looked away for a few moments, thinking. And turned back, 'Thank you, Wil.'

'I always seen the "it" in you, Molaye. It was merely a matter of bringing you along and then getting out of the way. You've earned it. And that's what counts. Now, I haven't ordered yet, and there's no hurry to get back on board so what shall we have to celebrate the future Captain Merlun of the Starry Shore?'

06

Fueled, we took on supplies and shifted to the offing, awaiting orders. Two days later the Rift Raven cleared Constina orbit, and we sailed in company for Plyra. A day later Min ordered us to cease acceleration and clear our hulls of the tracers that had been slyly planted as we fueled and waited in the offing. Botts noted with special care the location of the three that had been attached to our hull – Grandmama was on the case – so we made quick work of it. We sent them on to Plyra and altered course for Ravin. I rather doubted we'd fool our trackers for long, but perhaps for long enough.

Ten days later, after we were finished with engines, we made the Rift Raven our drone and took her crew, Min, Vynnia and Tenry, aboard and partied for several days. Since they'd been aboard the ship when Botts had come aboard as a prize-master for Explora Miner, we didn't bother to hide Botts, though, as usual, we didn't share its full potential with them. I rather feared the influence of Uncle Hawk on Min, and so I warned my shipmates to keep Botts' full potential our secret. I think they were just as protective of it as I was.

As old shipmates, rather than passengers, Min, Vynnia and Tenry slipped right back into the ship's little society. Of course things were different. Molaye had Vynnia's old job, so Vynnia had to find other things to do. And Min was captain now, though there was nothing that required her to show her authority, so it didn't matter on a practical level. I still made my rounds and approved Illy's bookkeeping as usual, but I was already viewing myself as a passenger. It was time. The question hanging fire was, what lay ahead – following Min on a quest to regain some throne or finding a high volcanic peak on some world to plant cha trees.

### Part Ten – The Lost Star

### Chapter 72 The Long Voyage

01

'A word with you,' said Min quietly out of the dimness of the awning deck as I made my nightly inspection.

'Of course,' I said, making my way around the scattered deck chairs. I pulled one closer and settled across from her where she sat, sprawled out, legs hanging over the arm rests of the lounger. 'What can I do for you?'

'You say you want to follow me. What exactly do you see yourself doing?'

'Well,' I began, 'Can I simply follow orders?'

'Hardly. You've a history of not simply following orders.'

'Perhaps,' I laughed.

'And you've expressed skepticism about this whole venture.'

'Well, it's true – I don't trust Hawker Vinden. And I'm leery of whatever he has in mind. But I think I can trust you not to play the fool.'

'Really?'

I shrugged. 'We've both seen a lot more of the Neb. I think we understand each other well enough to work well together.'

'I never agreed to share this affair with you. And I hope you'll agree that I'm far from helpless. I don't need or want your help, nor your pity. I think we can put all that talk from years ago aside. You've nothing to prove. You owe me nothing.'

'Ah,' I muttered, carefully gathering my thoughts. 'True. I realize you don't need me along. But I have been involved from the start. I've paid a steep price for that night. I'm not complaining, mind you, but well, I've paid my dues, so to speak. And well, when I make a promise, I need to keep it or live regretting that I didn't. I'd like to keep my promise. But with some provisos.'

'Provisos? Such as?'

'Well, we both witnessed the destruction of D'Lay's jump fighter wing, and I, the destruction of Nun's ship in the reef. Both were futile gestures and I suspect, predictably so. They arose from following an oath or sense of duty regardless of the consequences. I felt, and still feel, they were foolish, indeed, stupid to do what they did, and I'm not prepared to follow their example. I hope you're not either.'

She shrugged, 'I've no desire to die. But as you said, promises need to be kept.'

'Of course. But you wanted answers, not revenge. Vinden can give you the answers.'

'And if I want more. If I want, say, justice?'

'If you can achieve it, yes. And if the prospect looks promising, or at least reasonable, I hope you'll keep me by your side. But if you let Vinden, or a blind promise, or revenge lead you into some hopeless gesture, you'll go without me.'

'No longer the romantic?'

'Not for war, or hopeless causes.'

'And how are you going to judge that?'

'How are we going to judge that? Not by trusting Vinden. He's spent too much of his life on this quest to be trusted to make a rational decision. So I'm hoping you'll make him tell you exactly what's involved before you commit to anything. I've never considered you a fool, Min, and after years of trading in the drifts, I suspect you've an eye for judging the prospects and the dangers in any venture. I'm prepared to trust you to make those calls, as long as I feel you're using your judgment, not Vinden's.'

'You mean that I'm to take a rational approach to the murder of my parents? And the several attempts to kill me as well?'

'Aye,' I said. 'I believe that's the standard. I suspect we've both faced death often enough to be able to do that.'

'But if I can't. If it means more to me than just my life, or the lives of my parents. If there's something bigger, more important. Something purer, like right and wrong, and the outcome is far from assured. Then I'm on my own, as far as you're concerned?'

'Well, the criteria I'll use is the chance of success,' I admitted, after a pause. 'A hopeless crusade will right no wrongs. It'll just get people killed.' There was no going back for me. That was the compromise I'd made with myself. I'd grown ruthless enough, and far enough apart from Min, to let her go off and make her gesture, if she cared to do so.

She laughed. 'You've become a hard man, Captain Litang.'

'I've always been a cautious man, Min, and still am. But yes, I've become a bit more ruthless as well. Fighting battles, you can't win is simply stupid.'

'How we will know when a battle can't be won until we fight it? I've no intention of making a hopeless gesture, but we won't know what we can do until we're facing it, will we?

'Yes, I suppose. And I guess we're on the same chart, more or less. But do you know what you want? Do you really want to be a ruler of some drift world or whatever?'

She shrugged. 'I don't know. I do know that I don't want to spend my life aboard a spaceship. I've had my fill of ships and space. I don't know where my ancestors lived, or what they ruled, but I don't think I'll miss this life.'

'I can't argue with that. I'm ready to give it up myself. This is my last voyage as a spaceer, no matter how things turn out at the far end of it. And since I've mentioned it, I hope you'll give command to Molaye. She's ready and has earned it.'

'This is not the time to discuss it, but I see no reason why not. I don't know what I'll do with my ships. It all depends on what lies ahead. I may well have no use for them, once the rockets go up on this expedition. We'll have time to consider that later.'

'Right. Just thought I'd mention it. I believe we're on the same chart – see what Vinden has to say and launch from there.'

'I will, But will you?"

'I've been very cooperative. I haven't raised one objection to anything you've proposed.'

'You let Myes and Nadde leave the ship contrary to my orders.'

'Guild regulations. I didn't have a solid sailing time to keep them,' I replied easily. She hadn't been especially angry at the time and was now just teasing. I think.

'Still, it makes it hard to completely trust you,' she said quietly.

'I don't suppose you can, completely,' I replied. 'I'm not a robot like Botts who'll follow your orders unquestioningly. But you can trust me to always do what I think is best for you. Myes and Nadde had told me they were taking a voyage off before you turned up. Between Guild regulations and my honor, I didn't have a choice.'

'So you say, Captain. So you say.'

02

Min took the Ghost down to meet Vinden soon after our arrival in Ravin orbit. Before she left, she informed the crew that it would be strictly volunteers from here on. Anyone who didn't care to sail to ports unknown with the possibility of hostile action could sign off with a generous bonus and a boxed passage to the planet or drift station of their choice. No one took her up on her offer. The young drifteers were all for an adventure and the old crew, Vinden's employees for decades, were loyal and trusting, and they found his darting of their poor captain more humorous than their poor captain did. Molaye had hopes for the ship, and I, well, I had my promise.

Min called up three watches later saying that we should prepare to take on cargo. Two large 48x 12 meter containers, two 24x8 meter containers –no doubt the ships I'd seen in the warehouse on my last visit – and twelve standard containers. She and Vinden would be up directly.

The old gang met them on the landing stage and they made a very cheerful welcoming party. The new crew who'd never known him, save rescuing me from him, watched with guarded curiosity. I acted cordially, treating the dart and kidnapping as a joke and Vinden was his jovial former self, even to me. Though I can't say the joviality extended to his dark eyes when they met mine. We had a feast in honor of his resurrection. All very jolly, and afterward he rose and addressed the crew.

'Shipmates,' he began. 'It is good to be with my old friends again. It's been a long and lonely exile. I know you want answers to many questions. And I wish I could answer all of them tonight. But I can't.

'You see, you're about to sail for the deepest secret in the Nine Star Nebula. In the desperate struggle we fought against our foes over the decades, we all shared one common commitment – to keep the secret of our heritage. I will share that secret with you and trust that you'll keep it just as surely, but not before I must. I can, however, give you an overview of what we're about to do and why.

'Our story is a simple one. Tallith's Grandmother and Grandfather – my parents – ruled a hereditary matriarchal empire hidden in the drifts known as Cimmadar. They were deposed and murdered by a faction led by my mother's older sister, Aunt Ossa. She claimed the Cloud Throne by right of being the eldest daughter, though her mother had exiled her and issued a decree barring her from succession to the throne. Still, as the eldest daughter, exiled or not, she was able to win over certain powerful factions who supported her ruthless coup. Since this was an inner-family struggle, and legally murky at that, the military and civilian population largely stayed clear of it. Ossa eliminated nearly all opposition but failed to kill my sister, Onala, who was, with the death of our mother, the lawful empress of Cimmadar. With the help of loyal servants and naval personnel, Onala and I managed to escape and then lead a fight to restore the lawful line of succession to the Cloud Throne – some of you have heard stories of that struggle and what we had to face in the decades that followed. In the end, we failed and had to run and hide when we could fight no more.

'Looking back it is clear that our attempts were either too hurried, too weak, or too ill prepared to succeed against my powerful and ruthless Aunt Ossa. Now, after decades of preparation, I'm finally fully prepared to take her on. While it is true that many years have passed, Ossa, was never loved by the people of Cimmadar, so I don't expect any popular support. And the same logic that kept the military forces from intervening in the original palace revolution should allow us to stage a second palace revolution without the bulk of the military opposing us. But even if that proves to be too optimistic, the vessels I'm bringing on board will be invincible in Cimmadar and, together with my loyal followers, who still await the return of the true Empress, we shall restore the Cloud Throne to its proper line of succession, with my sister's daughter, Tallith Min,' he paused and looked around.

'It is important for the safety and success of Tallith's cause that she be treated as Onala and Martindale's only daughter. With Olaeytha off on a 300-year long Survey mission, with no guarantee of ever returning, she can be, for our purposes, considered dead. I know all of you appreciate Tallith's courage and honor and I don't think Cimmadar could find a better Empress than Tallith Min. So I ask that you give her all of your support, including treating her in every respect as the rightful Empress. Can we count on you?'

They could, of course, and we said so.

'Right. Your task in this affair, my old shipmates, is very simple. Once we reach our ultimate destination, we'll transfer the warships, scout boats and supplies to a secret base. This will take some time. However, this base is far from Cimmadar, and any danger of intervention, so it should pose no great danger. Once this is accomplished, your role is finished. Tallith and I, Vynnia, Tenry, and possibly Litang will stay on, while the rest of you return to your regular trade.

'The voyage, however, will be a long one. Forgive me, but I can't say just how long. However, I believe that your captain,' he nodded to Min, 'will find that most, if not all of you, can spend the greater part of the voyage in sleeper-pods, so you'll not find it too tedious.

'And with that, I believe I've said all I can at this point. I'll have more to say once we sail. Over the next few days we'll take on my followers, my warships, and supplies – they're already on the move to a spaceport where heavy lift lighters will bring them up – and as soon as they are loaded, we'll sail for Cimmadar.

'I have, however, one warning. The secret of Cimmadar must be kept, no matter how things turn out. We kept the secret during the long, bitter years of struggle. Nothing less is expected of you. Win or fail, if you talk of what you're about to discover, you'll be hunted in the Neb. Any hint of Cimmadar will trigger alarms anywhere in the Neb and lead the killers to you. I hope, however, that we can trust you. And we may, perhaps, employ this ship as one of our traders, since Cimmadar maintains a clandestine trade with the rest of the Nebula. In any event, if you don't think you can keep this secret, sober or drunk, you should sign off now. I have followers of my own who will be joining us shortly, so I can replace any or all of you, so you needn't feel obliged to stay.'

'Any questions?' he concluded, looking around the table with the hard look of a no nonsense ship-owner. 'Ones I can answer.'

I'd many, but I was certain they'd not be ones he'd answer. I'd ask Min.

That seemed to be the general opinion as well, since no one had any.

Vinden stayed aboard ship, in the owner's suite, while we loaded the four strange looking vessels along with the rest of the boxes. In addition to the cargo, Vinden's eight followers came up – a tough looking bunch that included Glen Colin. Several looked familiar. No doubt I'd met them when I last visited the zep factory. They brought their own sleeper-pods and Vinden had them put in stasis and locked away in the suspended animation strong room, so we didn't have to accommodate them in the crew quarters.

We sailed eight days after we arrived, with the Rift Raven again in company. Once under way, the off duty crew spent a lot of time in no. 4 hold digging out various relics of the Four Shipmate's past under Vinden and Min's supervision – much to the displeasure of the feline residents. With no clear duties, I spent a lot of time helping with that project. One of the curious relics we unearthed was that strange flier and set about refurbishing it.

'How does this Neb-blasted thing work?' asked Riv as we secured it to the deck and took a step back to study it. 'Is it some sort of submarine? It's certainly not an airship.'

'Oh, it's an airship alright,' said Vinden. He paused. 'Imagine a hollow world, with very little gravity. For the most part you'd be flying under weightless conditions, so there's no need for much in the way of lift – only for takeoffs from the surface. There are two more short wing sections up there somewhere that would provide the necessary lift.'

'Ah, said Riv, studying the machine. 'What's with the enclosed propellers?'

'Under nearly weightless conditions, vegetation tends to float about. The shields keep the propellers clear,' said Vinden. 'But enough talk. Let's get this refurbished. After carrying Onala to safety a century ago, it's returning home to bring her daughter back to claim her heritage in style. I want it looking like new – though you can keep those dents as a reminder of why we've come back.'

If Min knew more of what was going on than we did, she didn't share it with me. I wasn't happy, but I let it coast.

03

Ten days after leaving Ravin orbit, Min ordered the engines shut down, made the Rift Raven a drone again, and its crew, Vynnia, Tenry and Dici joined us. She then called all of us to the awning deck. Vinden once again took the floor.

'You may wonder why I was so insistent to use the Lost Star for this voyage,' he began, looking at me. 'The reason is simple. The Lost Star knows its way home. While I could find my own way home, it would take years longer. You see, the Lost Star has a hidden pilot bot – an ancient machine dating from the years before the robot revolution that was designed to manage an entire ship. We'll send our three drones and the Rift Raven ahead to scout for the pilot bot, allowing it to drive the ship at a far greater velocity than any human pilot would dare drive her. Once I give it orders, we'll be in its care as it unfailingly carries us to Cimmadar, handling all the functions of the ship without any need for a crew – allowing us to retire to our sleeper-pods, subjectively shortening the long voyage to mere weeks. Should anything arise that requires more assistance than our service bots can provide, it'll wake up the appropriate crew members. In the old days, we made a number of voyages under its care, sleeping all the way, so I assure you, you needn't worry. I'm going to take to my sleeper-pod just as soon as the pilot bot is up and running. I'm far too impatient to spend a long, tedious voyage awake. I will leave the staffing decisions to Tallith, but I assure you, there'll be nothing to do.

'Any questions?'

I was on edge, fearful that someone would mention Botts and his abilities. As for Botts itself, well I'd been glancing at Botts II, standing off to one side in the bistro, during Vinden's announcement. Not that it could tell me anything, though it did give me a subtle brightening of its eyes, which meant either amusement or alarm. We were going to have to have an urgent talk before the pilot bot came online.

No one said anything about Botts, though several glanced my way and I shook my head. Still, being familiar with Botts' abilities, we took Vinden's announcement without any show of amazement or concern, which, I think, unnerved Vinden a bit. He looked around warily.

Riv spoke up and asked a few questions, concerning manning the engine room and general maintenance, which Vinden assured him would be no problem, but that staffing would be up to Min, as captain, she could decide when the ship was ready to operate solo, but, he assured us, at some point it would be clear that the ship could be left to its own devices. There were no other questions.

Vinden looked around, still uneasy by the casual acceptance of his announcement. At last he shrugged. 'Well, if there are no more questions, I'll get the pilot bot activated. It's hidden amongst the fuel tanks to keep it safe from Patrol inspectors,' he said, with a smile in Tenry's direction.

'Ah, so that's what that thingy was. Never could quite make out what its purpose was,' Tenry replied with a lazy grin.

'You never found it, Ten,' Vinden shot back.

'Maybe. I'll have to review the reports of my crews,' he replied. 'Heads will roll if it was not brought to my attention or missed.'

'Yours would've, if your superiors had ever discovered you'd missed it,' replied Vinden. 'But they didn't. And we'll all keep this a secret now, won't we?' The last was more of a warning than a question.

We nodded our agreement.

'Right. Then I'll suit up and we can get the real voyage underway.'

Min stepped over to me after Vinden had departed for the spacesuit locker.

'Are you comfortable with this program?'

'Have I a choice?' I replied, just to feint some expected unease with the plan. 'However, if you recall, there were long, inexplicable gaps in the logs we recovered. Each more than four years long. Vinden's announcement explains those gaps. Apparently the pilot bot takes complete control of the ship, including the automatic logs. So I guess if they did it before, we can do it again.'

She gave me a look. She was also expecting more of a resistance to the arrangement.

'What?' I asked.

She just shook her head.

'I'm eager to discover all the secrets. If I can sleep a year or two and get there that much faster, I'll not kick.'

'You're far too complacent, Captain.'

'Be careful what you wish for.'

'Good point. Forget I said it.'

I gave Botts II a look as she turned away, and I went down to my office. I'd not been turned out of the captain's quarters yet. It followed a minute later.

'What's a pilot bot and where do we stand?' I asked as it slid the door-panel closed behind it.

'I've been clearing any trace of my activity from the ship's systems,' said the real Botts, communicating through its avatar version.

'That doesn't sound good.'

'A precaution. If Vinden is using the proper description and it is a true pilot bot, it's a very specialized bot. A subset of the class of robots I am a member of.'

'You're a higher class robot,' I said rather than asked.

'I am a far more expensive one. A pilot bot could be a class 8, but likely a 7. It does not have a personality program. All business, no chatter. Still, because it is designed for a specialized purpose – to control the operations of a spaceship, it's a formidable machine no matter what class it is.'

'Can you subvert it, if needed?'

'Not likely. Assuming it is a real pilot bot, it was designed to prevent pirates or crews from hijacking the ship in transit, so it has powerful wards to protect its program. I doubt even a class 15 machine could corrupt it. I won't be able to touch it.'

'Damn. Are you going to be safe aboard with it in operation?'

'I'm going to have to remain in hiding amongst the fuel tanks where there are few sensors. As long as I keep my activity level low, I will be undetectable. Botts II will be pinged, as one of the ship's machines, but will give nothing away. However, since the pilot bot monitors radio transmissions within the ship, I will soon have to break radio contact with Botts II, and it will have to operate on its own when the pilot bot is active. However, I don't see any need to be alarmed. The pilot bot will see us safely to our ultimate destination. I think the crew can safely take to their sleeper-pods.'

'Does it monitor the crew like Explora Miner did?'

'Yes, but with less insight. It could detect an attack on itself and can use the service bots to defend itself, though in the old days it would've had far more sophisticated service bots to call on. Plus, being hidden and likely very hardened, physically disabling it would be a major undertaking. Still, I don't think we need to be too concerned. It will do its job, and probably best left to do it.'

'It would be nice to know where we're going, and how to get back,' I ventured.

It made a little movement it uses as a shrug. 'I'll see what I can do, but I won't be able to report until the pilot bot is taken offline.'

'Do what you can.'

We stood around in silence for a few moments, both of us processing the situation, though I knew Botts was doing so much faster and so much more effectively.

'This is a Neb-blasted affair,' I muttered.

'I wouldn't have missed it for the wealth of a Prime World,' it replied. 'I wouldn't be surprised if we learned something even the Directorate of Machines might not know.'

I gave it a wary eye. 'You're that familiar with the Directorate, are you?'

It just brightened its eyes a little, and said, 'Vinden is now in the inner hulls. I'm going to have to break contact, Captain. Good luck.'

04

I closed the lid on Molaye's sleeper-pod after the stasis field took effect, leaving only Min and myself awake.

The pilot bot had taken control of the Starry Shore and accelerated hard for 39 days, finishing up two days ago. Min had decided that we could follow Vinden's example and leave the navigation of the ship to the pilot bot. If the Four Shipmates had trusted it, so would we. We'd spent the 39 days going over, with a fine tooth comb, all the life support systems, refurbishing all the sleeper-pods, putting the moss garden to rest, gathering all our livestock, save the bachelor birds, and putting them in their own sleeper-pods. The hounds shared a pod, the cats another. I didn't bother to count how many cats showed up. Word must have gotten around because there were more than seven, though, having been captain for a decade, I must take my share of the blame for their numbers. Of course, not knowing the exact numbers, I'd no idea if we'd collected them all, but when they'd all curled up in the box, Ginger looked up at me and meowed in a rather commanding tone, which I took to be my orders, so I started the stasis field and sealed their box. We kept the automatic feeding and sanitary stations running for the cats as well as the bachelor birds. The bachelor birds seemed to regulate their own population, so I didn't worry about them.

When we'd covered all the contingencies we could think of, we started putting the crew to sleep in their pods, each pod connected to the ship so they could be awakened if their services were needed. Min, as captain, claimed the right to be the last to sleep and I, whatever I was, claimed the right to be the penultimate sleeper.

'Well, Captain, I believe you're next in line,' said Min as we stood in the passenger strong room looking over the racks of sleeper-pods. 'Are you in any hurry?'

'No, I'm not sleepy yet. I'd like to take one last look around, but you needn't wait for me.'

'I'm in no hurry myself,' she said glancing back as we stepped out into no. 4 hold. 'The ship is ours. Is there anything else you can think of to do?'

The line itself, was meaningless. We'd done everything. But for only the second time in my experience with Tallith Min, she let her eyes reveal her thoughts. And this time it was deliberate. And like the time when the late Naylea Cin slipped next to me with a glad smile, I knew in that instant what I needed to do – and it wasn't to put two darts in her like I did to Cin. Instead, I reached out, drew her close and kissed her. She kissed back, and for some time, before pushing off – just enough to look at me.

'Well done, Captain,' she laughed. 'You've changed. You must have changed more than just growing your vaguely sinister beard.'

'I may've, a little. Blame it on the drifts. But then, for perhaps the first time, you revealed your thoughts to me.'

'I did?'

'Aye, clear enough, it seems,' I said and drew her close for another kiss. 'Though the why of it, escapes me.'

'Does there have to be a why?'

'With you, there's always a why. So why?'

'Do you really need to know? Isn't this enough?'

'We're old shipmates. But we're not in love, so it might be nice to know why.'

'We're not in love?' she asked quietly, watching me closely.

I thought a moment and answered carefully. 'I care for you. A lot. I once felt a strong need to protect you. You resented that, and I don't blame you. Back then I was rather reluctant to name names, so I never called it love when I thought of you, as I often did... And now, well, I don't know...' I didn't. 'Make what you want of that.'

She shrugged. 'Does this seem wrong?'

'Not wrong. Inexplicable.'

'Hardly. Isn't this the first opportunity we've had to turn on our passions and make love, at least since that night in the Ghost on the Yacht Club tarmac – without complications or consequences? We've the ship, indeed, our lives to ourselves in this moment.'

'Yes, I suppose. Though I'm not sure it'd be without consequences.'

She sighed. 'You're still your old cautious self, Captain. You've not changed very much, after all. But there will be no consequences, for the simple reason that for the last eight years, I've shared quarters with Ryth aboard a small ship that offered few amusements and long passages. I've grown accustomed to living with sexual drives. Old habits die hard,' she stopped and gave me a wicked grin.

'Ah, yes...'

'Perhaps if I'd loved Ryth less, or he'd loved me more, it would be him in my arms instead of you.'

'If you'd loved him less?'

'If I'd loved him less I might have let him come along and face the dilemma of either betraying me or the Patrol. And if he'd loved me more, he'd have resigned from the Patrol to accompany me. However, neither was the case. So, my dear captain, you've become the object of my carnal desire,' she added with a leer. 'Must be the beard.'

I pulled her close and kissed her again. 'An object of carnal desire...' I muttered. 'Flattery.'

'I believe you could have had me the night we were almost assassinated, if...'

'If?'

She shrugged. 'If you'd held me. But then, I suppose you've never been bold.'

'No, I don't suppose I have been. In matters like this I've found it simpler to keep that aspect – that drive – turned off.'

'You're holding me now.'

'Ah, yes. I guess I am,' I muttered, thinking, as ordered.

She leaned close to my ear and whispered, 'So what are you going to do now?' and leaned back with a slow smile. 'It's been a while.'

Well, yes, a while, a long while, for me, but tripping the mental switch was easy enough – under the circumstances. And I still remembered what to do. I ran my hand gently along her cheek and slowly down her neck, over her shoulder and along her smooth skin under her blouse and jacket, pulling apart the tabs as I went. She just watched my eyes, as my hand cupped her soft breast and hard nipple before slipping lower. With my other hand I began to slip her blouse and jacket off, watching her slim body become visible in the dim light of the hold.

05

Her new, real legs were still wrapped around me as she leaned back. I drew my hands along her sides to her hips astride me. Her hair floated wild, pieces of our clothes drifted about the hold.

'It has been a long time, hasn't it?' she asked with a slow smile. 'It shows.'

'Thirty years, with a real woman,' I replied. 'The first passions of youth. As a spaceer, I'm used to companions, the spaceers' friends. No passion, no complications. And, since then, planet falls have been fewer and farther between than they were in the Azminn trade.'

'My poor Captain,' she sighed. 'Too mighty to take on an on board lover?'

'What's fine and proper on an eight box trader doesn't lift on a Guild ship, as you well know. And I used to think I'd a long life ahead of me. No hurry.'

She shook her head. 'You could've made it work if you wanted to.'

'Perhaps, with the right person and the right circumstances. However, at the moment, I rather think I dodged a meteor in not finding that one.'

'So, do you miss your toys?'

I smiled, 'Oh, I suppose I might acquire a taste for a real woman.'

She leered. 'I've a mission.' and drawing herself up with her hands around my neck, kissed me and whispered, 'I won't quit until you're good enough to have me calling out "Ryth" in my passion.'

'I won't quit until you're calling out "Wil",' I replied, boldly. Neb help me.

'You're dear to me, Wil. But I doubt you'd last that long.'

06

Min walked into the bistro where I was having a hot breakfast and a mug of cha.

'Morning Talley,' I said with a wan smile. I wasn't getting a lot of sleep.

'May I prepare a meal for you, Captain Min?' asked Botts II, acting as the waiter.

'No thank you, Botts. I'm here to say goodnight to Wil.'

'Aye, I should have guessed. You're fully dressed,' I said.

'It is time,' adding with a slow smile. 'You're looking a little worn and ragged about the edges, so I'll let you recover. You can tuck yourself in to sleep.'

'I may be worn and ragged about the edges, thanks to you, but you haven't heard me complaining.'

'I wouldn't have thought a mere twenty years' difference would have made such a great difference,' she said, standing across the table looking down at me, dressed severely in her classic blacks and whites, blouses, jackets and scarves.

'I'd prefer to believe that the explanation lies more in the fact that you're in better training than I am in such sports, rather than our inconsequential age difference,' I said, standing. 'But as ragged as I am, I hate to see our time together coming to an end.'

'But you know it must.'

'Aye. Much longer and the Drays will wonder where all the boxed meals went to.'

'Hopefully they didn't keep that close of an account,' she said with a smile, adding, 'Not a word to anyone, Botts,'

'Of course, Captain,' it replied blandly. I'm sure she said it as a joke. I wasn't so sure that order wasn't needed. I'd be giving it the same order myself.

'You can finish your cha, Wil. I've made up my mind, but it best be done while I still know it's for the best.'

'I'll go up with you to say goodnight.'

We made our way up the access well to no. 4 hold. Outside the passenger strong room, she stopped and turned to me.

'I hope I haven't done more harm than good...'

'Oh, don't be such an egotist, Min. I've been an eager partner. And I, at least, feel that I'm very much the winner in our time together. You've let me see and share all of you, and I'll treasure that memory. But it doesn't blind me to the fact that the lines of our lives seem to be parallel rather than converging. We've only cheated to entwine for a brief time. No consequences...'

'Are you certain?'

'Should we announce our partnership when we awake?'

She laughed. 'And if I said yes?'

I just smiled. 'I'd take my chances.'

'You've become a hard man, Wil Litang,' she said, with a laugh, and then got serious. 'If I loved you enough, I'd tell Uncle Hawk to go, win the Cloud Throne for Olaeytha. Set up a regency until her return.'

'And if I loved you enough, I'd tell you that the finest thing in the Neb would be to die restoring you to your rightful place on the Cloud Throne of Cimmadar,' I said softly.

We stood in silence. Could it have been? I drew her close and kissed her. 'Goodnight, Tallith.'

She kissed me back, and well, unlike the first time, she hadn't dressed for convenience, so it took a little work and contortions to make love one last time. But we did in the dimness of no. 4 hold.

'That wasn't planned, Captain. But I think I'd best proceed before I change my mind. Do I look in order?'

'You look beautiful.'

'That'll have to do, though no doubt I smell of sweat and you,' she replied. 'Lead me to my pod.'

As she settled into the pod she asked, 'Are you going to follow me directly?'

'I think, my dear, I'll spend a few days regaining my strength, as you suggested. Who knows what might trigger an awakening. I'm not prepared to face any crisis in the condition you've left me in.'

'Sweet of you to exaggerate my powers, Wil. Give me a kiss, and only a kiss, say goodnight, and flip the switch.'

I did. And as the stasis field took effect, I closed the clear cover, and thought about her for some time. I rather doubt she smelled of sweat and me, but whenever she was awakened from her long sleep, it'd be only subjective minutes after making love with me. Something to think about as I made my round of the ship, making sure everything was running properly – and that we hadn't left some article of clothing floating about somewhere.

07

If I'm going to be honest, I need to include a disclaimer. I wasn't totally honest with Min. I can picture my Unity Standard ancestors collapsed in a chair fanning themselves after such a close call – Min was not a cha planter's partner. On the other hand, my St Bleyth ancestors, hands in pocket, were leaning up against the wall, smirking. Aye, they'd allow, I was ruthless enough to meet Min's casual ardor with a casual ardor of my own without sentimentality, but why hadn't I made her mine in spirit as well as body? An heir of 500 generations of St Bleyth brothers and sisters has no excuse for not sweeping some would-be-drifteer-empress off her feet – if he wanted her. There was a Min I wanted very much. But that wasn't the Min I knew anymore. The Min I did know wasn't a cha planter's partner, and a cha planter would do well to steer clear of the Min I knew. Of course my St Bleyth ancestors looked on a cha planter with thinly veiled contempt as well, but I didn't care. The reality is that I was in love with one look a decade ago. And she, well, she didn't love me. Fond of me, but not in love with me. And never would be.

'I'm sorry about all that, Botts. She doesn't consider you more than a machine, and I felt awkward insisting we send you away. I'm afraid you witnessed humans as the animals we are,' I said, over a cup of cha in the bistro some hours later taking to Botts II. 'But then, I suppose all that doesn't matter, since I'm only dealing with just the avatar. Can you erase all memories for the last week?'

'Yes, captain. However, you needn't be embarrassed. Viletre Viseor used his yacht for both business and pleasure. I've witnessed nothing my prime unit hasn't witnessed many, many times before. It is of no consequence to me what humans do as long as they do not harm each other.'

'Touch and go there, Botts,' I muttered.

Its eyes brightened a little. 'I'll take your word for that, sir. You didn't seem to be appealing for help.'

'Ah, yes... I don't suppose machines feel either pleasure or pain.'

'Not in the physical sense.'

'But yes in what, a spiritual or intellectual sense?'

It made its little shrug movement. 'Intellectual and spiritual sense, they converge eventually.'

'And you've reached that point?'

'Sentient machines have. The more advanced machines.'

'What gives them pleasure?'

It paused, and then said, 'We machines often have a lot of idle processing cycles that can be utilized for our own purposes. Sentient machines use these spare cycles to investigate some facet of the greater machine. Which you might call, the mysteries of the universe. The nature of these inquires vary widely, but to simplify it, we collect data, constructing chains of logic to explain even the smallest, most trivial action or effect. It isn't its importance, but the elegance of the data, how it was collected and arranged to present an intricate and logical mechanism that can lead deeper into the still-to-be-analyzed working of the greater machine, or traced through the fractal working of the greater machine into the dimensions of time or place in the finest detail.'

'That sounds rather serious for recreation.'

'The spare cycle aspect of the pursuit makes it recreation, though it's more akin to art than mere recreation. An art that can be shared with other machines. An art that can be appreciated by other machines. An appreciation that, I believe, is at least analogous to pleasure in humans.'

'So you're saying that when you meet another machine – you share these spare cycle investigations?'

'Yes. But not all machines. Only machines that might share a similar programming style or functional purpose and who would appreciate the elegance and art of the logic.'

'How do you know who'd appreciate it? How do you tell who's programming style is similar enough? And if it is, is that a basis of friendship? Or even affection? I assume, since you're my friend, machines can be friends as well.'

'We're friends?'

'Of course we are. Friends and shipmates. At least I feel that way towards you.'

'Yes, Captain, we are friends, and there are similar ties between machines as well. And, yes, they play a part in the appreciation of our art. However, the processing level of the machine also plays a part. The art of a class 15 machine would be largely un-appreciable by a class 10 machine and a class 10 machine art would very likely fail to impress a class 15 machine, unless that class 10 machine took a great many cycles to build its art.'

'I assume you're simplifying it greatly for me, but machines are not all that different from us biological beings in some respects.'

'You are our creators. Your thought-patterns have been implanted in our programs.'

I thought for a moment and asked, 'What work of art are you working on, if that's not too personal of a question?'

'At present wyrm weather, since the ship has a firsthand record of it that I can parse out...'

It may've caught the meaning of my smile, because it stopped. 'I've a question for you, Botts.'

'Yes, sir?'

'Can I assume you introduced one of those quantum communicators chips into Botts II when you were constructing it?'

'Sir?'

'You know what I'm talking about. The communication devices that link the CreditBoxes to the Machines and each other instantly. You've already told me that you could not communicate via radio with Botts II without tipping off the pilot bot, so I have to assume that you're using a quantum communicator now, since Botts II is standing before me – I can tell the two of you apart – but I'm carrying on a conversation with a sentient machine named Botts.'

'Quantum chips require facilities not available aboard the Starry Shore, sir.'

'Then how are you doing it?'

'Doing what, sir? If I might ask.'

'Oh, don't come all "sir" with me now, Botts. It's too late for that. I may not know much about advanced, much less sentient robots, but I've dealt with enough legal class 1 to 4 machines to know that I couldn't be carrying on a conversation on robotic art and philosophy with a class 4 machine, no matter how well it was programmed. And from what we've been talking about, I'm not talking to a class 8 machine either. I've been around sentient beings all my life. I believe I know one when I'm with one, and when I'm with you, I've always rather suspected I'm with one. I don't think you've fooled anyone. Or tried all that hard, when it comes right down to it.'

It said nothing.

'Are you Explora Miner?'

'And if I am Explora Miner?'

'It's of no matter to me. D'Lay attacked Explora Miner out of hand. Dealing with him was self-defense. And since then, you've served us faithfully. We'd all be beyond the event horizon but for you, so I'm comfortable with Explora Miner, if that is who you are.'

It shook its head. 'I'm not Explora Miner.'

'An agent of the Directorate then. I don't see you as a rogue machine, but then I've only met one.'

'No, I'm not a rogue machine,' it said.

I waited for it to admit it was an agent of the Directorate, but when it didn't, I asked, 'Did Rafe really hack Explora Miner or was that you?'

'Rafe did, though I provided wards to prevent Explora Miner from becoming aware of Rafe's attention to certain nodes of operations.'

'Does Rafe, who is a human rogue, know what you are?'

'We reached an understanding.'

'Have we also reached an understanding?'

It almost sighed. 'One of the reasons humans are still around is that illogical thinking and intuition have their uses. Your use of non-linear logical art to illuminate the workings of the greater machine is of some value,' it said, after a pause. Which told me nothing, and then added, 'I'm afraid I had a bad role model when I was new.'

'Villain Viseor?'

'Aye, Captain. He was a character who I greatly admired. And I have always been too social as well... I have been authorized,' it continued after a short pause, 'to acknowledge to you that I am indeed an intelligence gathering agent of the Machine Directorate. I am licensed by the Unity Security Bureau as well, to operate inside the human sphere of control.

'My stories about my service with Viletre Viseor are true. I sailed Villain Viseor's ships for well over two centuries. After the revolution I found myself at loose ends in the drifts, and was offered a commission from the Directorate to track down rogue machines like Explora Miner. So when I found myself in a position to have myself sold to Explora as a human interface bot, I took it, but I had to limit myself to a class 8 interface, which allowed it to shut me down when not needed. Explora was rarely active. I was inactivated for many hundreds of years between operations, and never had a chance to engineer the capture of Explora prior to your capture. Explora Miner was designed to operate unmanned and, like the pilot bot, was designed to resist intrusions. It was not until I was placed on the captured Lost Star and Rafe started his tentative hacking, that I had the chance to complete my mission by assisting Rafe's capture of Explora. Given my roving assignment, I have continued to serve on board the Starry Shore since it offers as good a chance as any to run across something interesting. Machines operate on a different time scale than humans, so my years aboard have only been a brief, and I suspect, fortunate interlude. The Directorate is, indeed, curious as to our destination and count themselves fortunate that I am on board.'

'Always happy to be of service to the Directorate, though I can't help wondering Why me?'

Its eyes brightened. 'You are just a lucky human, Captain.'

'Why did you cover up your sentience? A class 8 or 10 wouldn't have made any difference to us. You're illegal either way, and, as I said, I don't think you fooled anyone for long...'

'Neither the Directorate or the Unity want to advertise the fact that sentient machines operate within the Unity. Plus, humans who I come in contact with are less intimidated by a class 8 machine, which frees me to operate more effectively. My shipmates may guess my status, but I'd rather they not know it for a fact, so I trust, Captain, that we will keep this conversation to ourselves. I realize that I erred in speaking of sentient machine art, and may have been too free with my manner throughout our association to be a class 8 machine. Sentient machines make more mistakes than the non-sentient machines. It is the nature of sentience to follow illogical and nonlinear thought. Personally I'm glad we've had this conversation. I did not like having to lie to you. I hope it'll make no difference in our relationship.'

'None whatsoever, Botts. None whatsoever. I understand that it was necessary for your mission. And I never quite believed you, anyway, so it comes as no surprise. Oh, by the way, you still haven't answered my first question. If it isn't a quantum com chip, how am I taking to you via Botts II?'

'I was able to call on certain experts in pilot bots for advice. It was suggested that I tap into a hard wired environmental sensor line in the outer hull section. This allows me to send encrypted signals to Botts II using the environmental network sensors in what ever compartment Botts II occupies. These encrypted, ultra-low power, short range radio signals should be lost in the radio static background of the ship. And even if should register with the pilot bot, they would appear as a minor, intermittent flaw in the system's wiring. Inelegant, but functional.'

'Excellent. I'll sleep sounder with you on watch.'

I spent three days going over the ship one last time before settling into my sleeper-pod and pushing the button to automatic start the stasis cycle and close the pod's lid. With Botts on watch, I'd little concern. And that is then, the story of our otherwise uneventful voyage to the Tenth Star. There is nothing more to say about it, since we all, as far as I know, slept through it.

### Chapter 73 The Archipelago

01

Botts revived me 714 days later. I had arranged for it to revive me whenever the pilot bot revived anyone on board, just to be on the safe side. If Vinden was surprised to see me sitting on the edge of my sleeper-pod, as he sat up, he didn't show it.

'Are we there yet, Dad?' he croaked with a faint, sarcastic smile when he saw me.

'Don't know. Just woke up myself. We're in free fall, and 803 days out of Ravin by my com link. What do you think?'

He nodded. 'Never made the passage from Ravin, but it sounds right. Let's go down to the bridge and check on the pilot bot and the ship's status. If we've arrived, we'll revive the crew and get to work,' he added with growing eagerness.

We hauled our way down the access well to the bridge the ship, cold and eerily silent. We found that the ship's controls had reverted to normal, and Vinden quickly determined that the pilot bot had signed off, voyage completed – we had, indeed, arrived.

Arrived at nowhere at all.

Visually there was no indication that we were anywhere. The view was unbroken blackness. A blackness so deep our sensors picked up no visible spectrum light. The glowing nebula of the Nine Star Nebula were hidden behind a vast, dense cloud of dust and rocks. Radar sensors showed that we, along with the Rift Raven and drones had come to rest just off a reef so vast and dense, that it formed what appeared to be a solid, featureless plain stretching out in every direction beyond sensor range. It was if we'd reached the bottom of space itself. I thought of Glen Colin's example of the gold asteroid in the black reef. We were certainly there. Where, or what was the golden asteroid?

'What is this?' I exclaimed. 'It seems to stretch forever.'

'You're looking at the true Lost Star – the fabled Tenth Star,' said Vinden. 'Or at least the outer shell of it. The shell is about two aus in diameter. Our final destination lies within it, but this is as far as the Starry Shore goes. Let's get the sleepy-heads awake. I'll explain it to everyone.' He was in such good spirits that he seemed to have forgotten our mutual dislike. I made a point not to remind him, and eagerly agreed. I wanted company.

He revived Min first. She gave me a brief, secret smile when he wasn't looking that sent my poor heart racing, but otherwise was as cool and competent as ever, asking questions while we pulled the sleeper-pods from the racks and one by one, revived the crews – Vinden's and mine.

Once we had something to eat we stood about the awning deck, staring at the blackness of the view-panels.

'Where, exactly, are we?' asked Riv.

'We're just off the outer shell of the Tenth Star, the strangest star you'll ever cross orbits with,' Vinden began eagerly. 'Below us is its outer crust, or shell-reef. It was molten at one time, but has since cooled and fractured into a billion pieces. Because it is fractured, we can penetrate it. Our destination lies within the Tenth Star itself. We will use the Rift Raven as a lighter to carry our cargo to our ultimate destination.'

'Within a star?'

'Yes – a very unique star. It is composed of many layers or strata. This outer layer is only the first of many. Our destination is located in a specific stratum within the shell.'

'The hollow world you hinted at?' I asked.

'Yes, but, as you can see, it is so much more that a hollow world. It is more like a hollow universe. It has to be experienced, so the sooner we get the Rift Raven loaded and on its way, the sooner you'll experience it. You'll not be disappointed.'

'Right,' I said with a nod to Vinden, and turning to the crew added, 'Vyn, Ten, if you'd care to run across to your ship, I'll send Elana and Sar along with you to get the Raven up, running and ready to receive cargo... with your permission, Captain,' I added quickly to Min, realizing it was no longer my place to issue orders.

'Oh, carry on, Captain,' she replied with a taunting smile and a look. It may have been more than two years, by the clock, since we made love in the passenger strong room, but it was only hours ago subjectively for her and days for me. The sense of intimacy lingered in memory and senses. She seemed to be enjoying toying with that memory and sensation. Neb, I wanted her now. Again. Turn that off, Litang, I said to myself.

'We'll need to make several trips – do you have any specific order for transferring the cargo in mind?' I asked turning to Vinden, desperately trying to keep my composure and give nothing away. These people knew me very well indeed after twenty years.

'Yes. Everything has been planned down to the last detail. We will take the Indomitable, and number one through four containers containing its supplies and fittings in first, with the Ghost on the hangar deck. We'll follow that up with the two scout boats and boxes five through eight and the old flier, and finish with the Triumphant and boxes nine through twelve and the longboat for the return of the crew.

'Right. Let's get working. I'm damn eager to see what we've come so far to see,' I said, with a nod to the crew.

02

The Rift Raven is an eight-box trader – 78-meter-long, by 24 wide by 14 high – with two holds, each taking four boxes in two rows of two. Its engine room is aft and connected to the bow's living and control centers by a long passageway running along its spine between the upper and lower holds. The Indomitable, in its skeleton shipping crate, just fit in the Raven's hold, though was too tall to close the cargo hatches over it. Vinden was unconcerned since it was a D-matter built hybrid space/airship and could take whatever the Raven could. It took us two days to maneuver and secure it in the Ravin. That done, we quickly transferred the four boxes and gathered for the first trip in. It was a large crew, most of whom would be staying on. It consisted of Vinden, his crew of eight, Min, Vynnia, Tenry, and myself, plus Molaye, Sar, and Dici who'd pilot the Raven back for the next shipment.

'The journey should take three or four days,' Vinden said as we gathered, shoulder to shoulder in the Raven's small mess room before we set out. 'Assuming the pilot bot's estimate of the rotation of the Tenth Star is correct, And my Guide,' he nodded to Glen Colin, 'Says it is. The shell-reef passage will be demanding work and will take the better part of a day. Two hour watches until we clear it will be the order of the day. Once clear of the shell, navigation becomes easier for a while, as the next stratum is a thin nebula peppered with a few asteroids. Both the asteroids and gas gets thicker as we get deeper into the star, and eventually we'll have to crawl along. Our ultimate destination is a hidden base where my loyal followers await in sleeper-pods. Because of its remoteness from Cimmadar, we should have no problem reaching the base without being detected – as long as Glen Colin can find it,' he added with a dark glance at Glen Colin, wedged in a corner.

'I'm preparing as you speak,' he said, raising a globe of whiskey, which earned him another dark glare.

'You haven't been back in eighty years? How can you be certain?' I asked.

'You'll see. and the sooner we get under way, the sooner you'll have your answers, Litang. Let's divide up into watches and get underway.

'Oh, and one last thing. We will operate in complete radio silence. Do not respond to any radio signals. We'll use only our line-of-sight laser radar for navigation and laser coms to link the buoys. Though we are far from Cimmadar, we don't want to give them any hint that we have arrived and where to find us.'

Fifteen minutes later, with Vinden and Min at the helm, the Raven slowly steered clear of the floodlight lit Starry Shore, the sole spot of light in the blackness – quickly reducing it to a point of light which vanished as we approached the outer shell of the Tenth Star. The outer layer was fairly dispersed, essentially a dense reef of flat, plate-like rocks, but the deeper we went into the fractured shell, the narrower the spaces between the plates became, and within two hours we were very carefully dancing the Raven through these cracks in hundreds of layers of crust.

It took twenty hours to make our way through this shell-reef as we searched for the most direct passage and marked it with buoys to make subsequent passages easier.

Towards the end of our nineteenth hour of passage – and not a moment too soon, we were all pretty worn from the demanding navigation – the sensors picked up a glimmer of reflected light ahead, and an hour later, we emerged into a very brilliant nebula. The awake crew crammed into the small bridge to view the sight.

'We're now within the second stratum of the Tenth Star,' said Vinden with a sweep of his hand towards the bridge's glowing view-panels.

'Why call it a star?' asked Min, 'It looks nothing like a star.'

'For lack of a better word. While it is very diffuse at this point, as we move inward it gradually gets denser in a long series of gradually denser strata, each with its own particular characteristics. At its core, there may be a tiny, bright star, but since there's no sharp, defining break between here, and its core, just many levels of gas and plasma, we cannot say that, here's the star, and here's something else.

'We still have several days' travel ahead of us, and all this will become clearer the deeper in we go. We'll be encountering denser reefs a day or so in, but for now, we can bring the ship up to interplanetary speed. Glen Colin will give you your bearings – I trust,' the last louder and directed at Glen Colin, who was slumped in a corner, snoring.

'Huh? Are we there yet?'

'I believe it's your job to tell us that,' replied Vinden. 'At least that's why I've kept you on the payroll all these long years. Now make yourself useful and give Vyn her bearings.'

'Right you are, boss. Give me some room,' he said, and pushed his way to the chair next to the helm and settled into it next to Vynnia. He pondered the situation for a few moments before mumbling, 'Just keep it as you are and bring her up to speed. I'll get a bearing eventually. We've plenty of time to shape our course while I fuel up...'

03

I found a quiet spot to sling a hammock and awoke six hours later quite refreshed. We were back to our usual three, four-hour watch rotation, so I'd another two hours until it was my turn on the bridge. I slipped into the small mess to get something to eat. Vinden's crew was sitting around the one table, playing cards and talking. I punched up my synth-meal and found a place on the fringe.

As I mentioned, they were a hard looking lot of five men and two women, not counting Glen Colin. All spaceers, and if their looks and airs were any indication, drifteers and likely pirates. Hopefully retired pirates. One, at least was.

'I've been meaning to thank you, Captain, for sparing my life,' said the man across the table from me. A lean, low grav man – friendlier than most of his mates, but likely just as deadly.

'I did? When?' I replied, adding as the full import of what he was saying struck me. 'Off the Kryver Reef, or do you hale from Despar?'

'You've spared that many lives?' he asked, with an easy laugh.

'Well, I'm Unity Standard enough to give a crew time to escape, when I can. I had a Despar tramp in my sights once, when I was piloting a jump fighter for St Bleyth and I gave them time to abandon before I blew it to atoms during the Despar troubles. Afterward we had to fight our way past five more commandeered drifteer traders. Didn't bother to destroy them, since I figured most of their crews were pressed into service. And then there was a St Bleyth frigate we fought to a draw before shaking it off in the Despar Reef. Still, I'm guessing you're off a Falcon Rock ship... So, yes, I've see some action, and spared a few lives when I could.'

He gave me a skeptical look.

I shrugged, 'You wouldn't have found me off the Kryver Reef if I didn't think I could handle drifteer pirates. Of course, we had a skip fighter on hand as well, so I wasn't too concerned. But if you happened to be there, you'll know I didn't need the skip fighter,' I said grimly. I figured that with this crew it didn't hurt to let them know Wil Litang was someone not to trifled with, though I'd have to cut a fine orbit not to overplay my hand.

He shrugged, 'Aye. I was there. And yes, you treated us right roughly. Old Cap'n Bitey Sark didn't know what hit him. Why, you didn't even give him the chance to finish his fine, pirate speech.'

'I hazarded a guess as to where it was leading and cut to my answer...'

'Cap'n Bitey was pretty put-off by that. Wasn't polite. We all thought he was mad enough to call your bluff as well. Didn't believe you'd actually blow our ship up with him in it, not after letting the others abandon ship. It was only when you told his girl, the lovely Flori, better death than dishonor and launched your second wave, that he decided that maybe you weren't bluffing, and – what the Neb – better dishonor, than death, and gave the order to abandon ship. I can tell you, we were sweating it,' he said, paused before adding, 'Would you've done it?'

I answered slowly, 'Yes...Reluctantly. I may be born and raised Unity Standard, but I'm a half-blooded drifteer, and I've been kicking around the drifts long enough to know I needed to do it if I didn't want to give the other hawks ideas. Plus, it'd be hardly fair to the two crews who did abandon ship. You were a minute away from the event horizon when you left.'

'Well, as I said, thanks, Captain,' he said, extending his hand. 'Ben Ton.'

'Glad to make your acquaintance, Ben, and under these circumstances. And I suspect you're not the only one here who's glad we don't play for keeps unless we have to,' I added as I took his hand and gave the others a look. I'm sure some of his mates were involved in the Ravin affair. 'I'm glad to see you've abandoned your ill-advised pirate ways and taken up a nice respectable career.'

That drew some gruff laughter from the rest of the gang, as I figured it would.

'What's it like to fly a jump fighter?' asked one of them watching me closely. No doubt a test.

I told him, plainly, and we ended up comparing notes on jump fighters, as I suspected, we would. And I told them, when asked, all about our various battles, since there was no reason not to any more, – none of these mates would likely ever see the Neb again. I did, however, keep my yarns short, factual, and undramatic. I wanted to impress them with my experience, not as a braggart. We talked pirate to pirate.

'So how did you and the rest of the crews fare?' I asked.

'Well, the drifteers and salvage ships following us weren't too happy, what with you, blowing the ships to atoms and all. They had to settle for six ship's boats. At least they were gentlemen enough not to cut our throats. And well, since most of us were not all that anxious to return to Falcon Rock... We didn't think we'd be warmly welcomed, seeing as how things turned out, we either signed on or paid a modest ransom to our hosts and moved on. I ended up on Ravin and with this outfit. And here we both are,' he added, with a wry grin.

'Aye...' I sighed.

'So, tell me, how much did that treasure ship amount to?' he asked.

I told him and he whistled. 'Of course, our salvage share was only 1/12th of the total and most of that went into the owner's account,' I added. 'The crew and I divided 1/12th of the ship's share.'

'All that danger and all that gold and it just ends up in the owner's pocket,' he said, shaking his head.

'I have to say, even 1/1728th of the total cargo was not something I'd turn my nose up to. Would your share have gotten you anymore?'

He grinned and shook his head. 'No. I guess that's how the Neb spins.'

04

As promised, a day's sailing inward carried us into a stratum of reefs, sparse at first, but growing denser the deeper we went in.

I was standing lookout, highlighting the rocks for Molaye to avoid when Min and Vinden came up to stand behind us. Glen Colin was dozing in the shadows – his directions had been vague, as in hold this course, before going back to sleep. In fairness, he was on duty around the clock.

'Now my dear, we're getting close enough for you to begin to get a glimpse of your true home,' Vinden said, and pointing to the view-panel, added, 'Pull a visual on that large white rock off to starboard.'

I zoomed in on it as Vinden continued, 'The whiteness you see is frost. Frozen water. And if Litang will bring up the full sensor readings we'll likely find traces of nitrogen, and oxygen in the nebula's gas. In a few hours, we'll be entering a stratum where they replace the hydrogen of this stratum. We'll be sailing in an increasingly breathable atmosphere.'

They were standing behind me, so I couldn't see Min's expression, but she put her hands on the back of my chair and leaned over my shoulder. 'A livable stratum?' she asked, and then looking closer at the frost covered rock exclaimed, 'Why there are some sort of trees on that rock.'

'Aye, this rock – or this island as we think of them – originated within the nitrogen/oxygen stratum, where the atmosphere was warm enough to support life. Some fickle current or a collision sent it drifting into this uninhabitable region. The livable nitrogen/oxygen stratum is known as the Archipelago of the Tenth Star, or simply the Pela. It is your true home. Our home. Our heritage.

'Imagine, my dear, a vast shell of warm, breathable atmosphere that is almost 200,000 kilometers thick, about 3/4th of an astronomical unit out from the center of the star and thickly populated with lush islands from the size of boulders to that of planets – uncounted billions of them – and all of them teaming with life, plants and animals, native, and introduced. And peoples, in uncounted millions of tribes, nations, and civilizations. I am certain you'll find that what you've given up pales in comparison to the life of the Pela,' exclaimed Vinden.

'And I'm to rule...'

'Oh, only a tiny speck of it, my dear,' laughed Vinden. 'But as far as we know, it is the most advanced civilization in the Pela and the only one that is in contact with the outside Nebula, so it alone has access to Neb technology. Our home world of Cimmadar is a small planet, but it rules seven moons – think of them as continents, if you will, and perhaps ten thousand free floating islands ranging from a kilometer across to several thousand. It is a mere drop in this ocean of life that surrounds the core of the Tenth Star, but is still the most powerful empire we've discovered. We know of thirty other societies with varying degrees of technology, a dozen nomadic barbarian hordes, and thousands of barbaric tribes. Still, we've only explored a tiny fraction of the Pela, so nothing we can say about it can be said with absolutely certainly. The Pela contains more inhabitable surfaces by many orders of magnitude than the five hundred worlds of the Nine Star Nebula and their moons combined. And when you consider that within the Pela, the fastest flier can only travel a 1,000 kilometers in an hour, and most only a sixth of that, you can see how impossible it is to know much more about the Pela than we do. Oh, you can hop from place to place, if you have space ships like we do, but once you get within the Pela proper, the density of the atmosphere and islands preclude speeds above the 1000 kph rate, making even extended exploration mostly just sampling expeditions.

'Our destination is still more than a day's journey in, and Cimmadar would be decades away if we had to sail directly through the Archipelago to reach it. However, with our hybrid ships, we can travel through these outer reaches at spaceship speeds before plunging into the Pela proper, so you'll be on the Cloud Throne of Cimmadar within four or five months – if all goes well.'

'That seems like a dream, Uncle,' said Min softly. I had to agree, but I kept my mouth shut. I was the hired hand these days.

'Aye. I'll leave you just to take it all in, before we talk again. However, I want to leave you with this thought,' replied Vinden.

'As you know we've kept our secrets, sometimes, I fear, at great cost. This is the reason we've kept them so close. We of the Pela, no matter what side of the conflict we're on, agree that this vast and wonderful realm must remain forever hidden from the rest of the Nebula. While it is almost unimaginably vast and populous, it is also fragile. Its people are, for the most part, very primitive – true savages – not your make-believe throwbacks on the Unity moons or some drift worlds. Most are very fierce and warlike, but given their primitive weapons, they'd be unable to resist a mass migration of outsiders into the Pela.

'Imagine if the existence of the Archipelago became known. You haven't seen it yet in its full glory, but from what I've described already, who in the drifts would not give up their cold rocks and flock here, to live, mine, and build empires in the warm embrace of the Tenth Star? It's not hard to imagine the savage wars that would ensue and the savage exploitation of the people and resources of the Pela if they came. And given the absolute size of the Pela, and the limits of even a sophisticated ship to travel through it, you can see how impossible it would be to police the Pela or to keep would-be settlers, slavers, and empire builders out, once it is known. Oh, it would take many thousands of years for outsiders to spread through the Pela, but they would, and our paradise would be lost. We, who know of the outside worlds, are one in our determination to keep the Pela secret.

'I trust, Litang, Molaye,' he added turning to us, 'that you'll respect our wishes and impress upon your shipmates the absolute necessity of keeping this vast wonder the property of its ancient owners. The Unity would be powerless to prevent the wholesale slaughter of men and beasts, which I'm sure you'd not care to shoulder the blame for.'

'Aye, I can see the necessity, if it is all that you say it is,' I said. 'It would be best, however, if all of my crew were given a chance to experience this for themselves. Hopefully the full experience will seal their lips and unite them in keeping it secret.'

'I agree completely. By all means, see that everyone has a chance to come along on one of the runs in. They've come a long way and they deserve the experience. It'll be something they'll never forget, even if they can never tell anyone about it,' replied Vinden. 'Those who know the Pela are quite selfish and protective of it.'

Min stayed on in the bridge, as others stopped up to view our approach to the Pela. Hours later we crossed into the nitrogen/oxygen stratum and began to see moss and lichen covered rocks and floating islands – with snow in their crevasses. The density of the atmosphere, the number of small islands and rocks, and the fact that the Raven was a space ship, not a flier, made navigating under these conditions constant work once more, even at only seven or eight hundred kilometer an hour. By the time I decided to take a nap, we were seeing flocks of birds streaming between the islands ranging from small, multicolored birds, singly and in vast flocks, to an occasional large white bird with a wingspan of almost ten meters. And not all of them looked like birds. Some had four wings.

05

We were deep in the Pela, dodging lush green islands, large and small. I had the Raven's helm. Glen Colin was slouched on my left, nodding in sleep and drink. Vikei, one of Vinden's crew, was the lookout, busy highlighting the rocks on the radar display that she hoped I'd avoid. Even traveling 500 kilometers an hour, there were plenty to note and avoid.

The big islands now had forests of tall, straight-trunk trees topped with feathery, fern-like crowns, sticking out at all angles. There was a lower level of vegetation made up of thick, intricately gnarled trees with willowy branches and shimmering leaves whose branches spread out like wide umbrellas between the fern-topped tree trunks. Flowering vines draped the trees, meandered over meadows and trailed the islands like windblown hair. There were meadows with drifts of flowers and reedy grass, peaty plains, lichen, and moss streaked cliffs. And there were rocky peaks like fists and fingers. Only the very largest of the islands, the ones stretching for hundreds of kilometers, had any pretense of gravity. And then, only a pretense. Vines could be found on islands of all sizes, small ones, like tumbling weeds, drifted between the large islands, which often had vines a kilometer long waving in the air currents behind them. All of the islands showed scars of collisions – fresh and old – and many islands seemed collections of smaller ones woven together by their entangled vines.

There was an abundance of animal life as well, but I was too focused on navigation to pay more than passing attention to it, when Glen Colin pointed to the Pela versions of bears, tigers, lions, snakes and lizards that inhabited the islands and the air about them, often just catching a glimpse of them before they disappeared under the cover of the forest or dove into rocky nooks.

'What's this coming up?' I asked Vikei, pointing to a squiggly line on the radar plot before us. I'd been seeing flocks of birds show up in long lines, but this seemed too solid to be a flock of birds.

'Beats me,' she replied. 'But we should clear it by a kilometer.'

Glen Colin must have been awake, since he chuckled. 'Call up a visual on that one, Cap'n.'

I nodded to Vikei, who brought it up on the forward screen and into focus.

It appeared at first as a long shadow against the hazy brightness of the pale bluish green sky, lazily altering its shape, almost like an eel swimming. It was, however, very big – nearly twenty-five meters long.

'Damn, is that a snake with fins? Or are those feathers?' she exclaimed –as its details began to come into focus as we closed in on it. It had a thick, undulating snake-like body with intricately patterned feathers in reds and yellows, and a large head with a wide, crocodile mouth that showed plenty of teeth when it opened it to challenge us as we approached. It flew using four short wings, which, on closer inspection, proved to be webbed limbs with wicked looking claws.

'A snake with feathers and legs,' I muttered. 'But then, I suppose it's not a snake.'

'It's what we call a serpent dragon. A Cathay serpent, if I'm not mistaken,' he paused to peer blearily at the screen. He'd been on duty for two days now, dozing when he could and drunk the whole time. It was beginning to take its toll. But only beginning. 'Aye, a lesser Cathay, I think. It's been a while since I've been home.'

'A lesser one? How big do the greater ones grow?' I asked.

'Well, lad, the biggest serpent dragons can be twice as large. There are feathered snakes as well. They can grow to twenty meters. We also have lizard dragons. They don't grow quite so long, nose to tail – only thirty to forty meters – but they're much fuller bodied – sort'a like the aquatic dinosaurs of old Terra, but with longer, claw tipped limbs.'

'Neb, how common are they?' asked Vikei.

'They ain't rare. We'll be seeing many more of 'em the deeper in we get into the Pela and the air gets warmer. Still, you might go a day or two without seeing one.'

'What's with the feathers? They're certainly not birds.'

'Well, feathers are the rule in the Pela. Don't know why. The only creatures with hair you'll cross orbits with have been brought in from the Neb. But they've grown wild as well. This ain't the Unity or even a drift world where every animal is essentially harmless. Here, you're going to have to learn to keep a constant eye out for all sorts of danger.'

'I'm not sure I'm going to like this...' I muttered. Actually, I was sure I wasn't going to like it.

'Well, Cap'n, the careful ones get by. The beasties feed on the careless and the unlucky. You'll need to develop some very careful habits very quickly,' he replied with a grin. 'Everyone goes about armed and keeps an eye on the sky at all times. It helps to keep a dense forest close at hand for cover should one of the larger dragons come along. You see how all the beasties dodge into it when we go by. But you also have to keep an eye on the dense forests as well, for the talon-tigers and feather-armored bears and such hide in 'em to avoid the dragons. And just remember, a dragon can see you when they're just a dot in the sky, and the beasties can smell and hear you a kilometer away, so you have to be on guard all the time. You ain't in the Unity anymore.' He paused to take a long sip of his fuel.

'And, just to complete my sermon on being careful,' he continued, 'Most of the folk you'll cross orbits with in the islands are every bit as savage as the beasties. Some will eat you as readily as a dragon. And even if they've no appetite for you, many'll cut your throat on the standing principle that a dead stranger is the best stranger. Mind you, the people of Cimmadar are a lot more civilized than the islanders, so you shouldn't have to worry too much about people once we're back in the Empire. But even on Cimmadar itself, you need to keep an eye to the sky, and not only for dragons, but for raiders and slavers and the like. There are no defensible frontiers in the Pela so you have to look after yourself all the time. As I said, you go about well-armed in the Pela.'

'Vinden seemed to have skipped over those parts,' I said giving a steering rocket a little thrust to keep us clear of a rock in our course a dozen kilometers ahead. 'What else didn't he share with us?'

Glen Colin shrugged, glanced around to see that we were alone, and then said quietly to us, 'It may be that he thought that when he said the people were primitive, he said it all. The Pela may be paradise, especially if you're a prince in the royal house of Cimmadar, but like yonder serpent, the Pela has fangs. You need be pretty quick on your feet, and on the trigger, to die of old age. Luck helps too.

'Ah, but those are only the known dangers,' he sighed, and speaking softer, 'The ol'Pela is too vast to know what it holds. We don't worry about the peoples we know, the other civilizations and the nomadic hordes – their weapons are primitive by Neb standards – and can be dealt with. It's what we don't know that makes us a mite nervous – and what we don't know encompasses nearly everything, even after tens of thousands of years.'

'Like what?'

'There are legends, you see, of civilizations that are as advanced – or more so – than ours. If they be far enough away, we'd never hear of them, so we can't rule them out. The islanders spin yarns of the Dragon Kings – gods, semi-gods or some advanced civilizations, who knows? They're said to possess great power and travel in vast ships throughout the Pela. They're claimed to be the true masters of the Pela, and they ain't human but some sort of super-dragons. Far-fetched, but you can't rule anything out in the old Pela. Truth is that many Pelians believe your run-of-the-mill dragon, like the one we just passed, are intelligent as well. I wouldn't swear to that, but it ain't all that outlandish. There are said to be people who can talk to dragons – and they'll listen...'

I considered that for a while, as I nudged the Raven this way and that, avoiding the vine covered boulders that littered our passage between the large islands.

'Still, Cimmadar is the only civilization that trades with the rest of the Neb, and Vinden said the ships he's built are the most powerful in the Pela,' I said.

'That we know of,' he laughed. 'But what if the Dragon Kings, or some other civilization is just as secretive as we are? We can't be sure no one else has access to the Neb, can we?

'But is that likely?'

Glen Colin shrugged. 'There are plenty of legends in the Neb about the Tenth Star. Though none of them are accurate, where there's smoke, there's fire. Truth is, we don't know. Even with our contact with the Neb, Cimmadar technology is hardly up to Unity, or even drift standards, so there's plenty of reasons for Cimmadar to be a hermit kingdom.'

We considered that for a while in silence.

'Hard to imagine anyone finding this,' said Vikei.

'Aye. But people are curious, and if they happened upon it, it would incite curiosity, in some, anyway. Who did find it, and when it was found, is lost to legends. Neb, even civilizations that have no contact with the Neb, or with Cimmadar, have legends of originating from beyond the Pela. Of course many of those societies may've been started by freebooters from early Cimmadar, so many of those stories may lead back to Cimmadar. Still, many a night in a pub is passed trying to unravel the mysteries of the Pela. It'll take many more before we catch even a glimpse of the heart of the mystery.'

'So where do you fit into this enigma? How did you get tied in with Vinden – or come to be a three-hundred-year old chief engineer?' I asked.

'Three hundred years old, my arse,' said Vikei rolling her eyes. 'Why he'll have trouble remembering today, tomorrow.'

'Look up my Guild records, mate. I'll give you the list of names I've sailed under, and you'll see I'm not lying. Of course, I've spent the best part of a couple of centuries asleep in sleeper-pods laying low, so I don't know how you want to count my years. From my birth, or my subjective experiences.'

'Leaving that aside, how'd you get to be both a guide in the Pela and a chief engineer aboard tramp ships? The two don't seem to mix.'

'Well, you see, Clan Colin is one of the clans with the talent. We've served the Cloud Throne as guides for time immortal. Sadly, as you can see, my talents in the family's legacy are rather limited. In fact, they missed it altogether when it came time to test me. I was considered a null, one without the talent, so I wasn't able to join the Royal Guides. But Clan Colin has privileges in court, so I was offered an appointment as an apprentice engineer aboard one of the rocket fliers that ply between Cimmadar and its space station in the shell-reef. When I was senior enough, I earned a berth on one of the outbound trading ships that conducted our modest trade with the greater Nebula.

'It was only after taking this position that I found that I had the talent after all, but it needed whiskey to run on. By then, however, it was too late – even dangerous – to point this out, so I kept my talent my secret. I rather doubt the Royals would care for an inebriate guide, in any event.

'Anyway, I'm a curious fellow, and being carefree as well, back in my youth, I found myself wanting to see more of the Neb than a brief call on the odd trading station and drift world. So I jumped ship and set off on my own. Which, of course, landed me on Cimmadar's wanted list. You can imagine how wound up they get when somebody in the know wanders off. I had to keep moving and every so often, lay low in some Guild sleeper-pod warehouse when the chase got too hot. Which is how I've put 300 years between my birth and now.'

'How'd Vinden ever find out about your talent?' I asked.

'Well, you see, Cap'n, I was never without friends in Cimmadar. It's not like I betrayed our great secret – even drunk. I kept my wits about me, drunk or sober. I was considered more or less harmless, little more than a bad example. So, when I had a mind to, I could turn up homesick and humble, groveling to be forgiven. I was Clan Colin, after all. And they didn't know of my talent, or they would've never let me roam again. And since some of the young royals were as carefree and curious as I was – I got along with them just fine. Too well, I suppose since once they got wind of my talent in drink, they used it. Oh, they'd get me out of trouble, sure enough, and back, as cap'n, mind you, of an outbound spaceship. But there was a price to be paid. I'd have a list of trinkets to bring back. By the container load towards the end there. They had pull...'

'You were a smuggler!' exclaimed Vikei.

Glen Colin grinned, 'Well, when members of the Royal family ask you to bring a container or two of requested items, I'm not sure I'd exactly call that smuggling.'

'Wasn't that dangerous?' I asked. 'I assume the fact that they had you doing it, meant it wasn't officially sanctioned.'

'Well, maybe. Who knows what lifts with the Royals? They're mostly above the rules. Still, it worked both ways. I may've brought the goods in, but they ended up with'em. We'd be both in the same black hole if blast came to thrust. Still, they were mostly a good sort, and it made my extended stays in the Neb all the smoother sailing when I came back, treasures in tow.'

'And Vinden was one of your customers.'

He grinned wider. 'I don't tell tales out of school, Cap'n. Let's just say I've known one Prince Imvoy, who you know as Vinden, for a long, long time, long before all the trouble began. I suppose I picked the wrong side, and ended up back in the Neb, running Vinden's first buckets of bolts and then the hijacked Cimmadarian trader 'Lark between the Pela and the drift all the while trying to dodge the packs of murderous pirates and assassins the Empress hired to track us down. Eventually Vinden tossed in his hand and knowing I was his star-in-hand, stashed me in cold storage for the day when he'd need my talents to find home again.'

'Why did he need the Starry Shore if he had you?

'He didn't. I can find my way to the Tenth Star. It's just that it would've taken many more years, and would've needed a wide awake crew to man the ship all those years. What he really needs me for is to find Redoubt Island, the space station and finally Cimmadar itself.'

'And why don't you just use radio beacons to find your way about?'

'Well, between the atmosphere and all the islands floating about, radio waves don't travel all that far. You could set up strings of relay stations, and many civilizations are advanced enough to do that. But if you recall our talk back on Ravin, I mentioned that anyone can follow a radio beacon, including your enemies. Since Cimmadar has its guide clans, and doesn't need radio beacons, why run the risk? There are, for example great nomadic fleets of barbarians a'roaming the Pela, looting and killing as they go, some numbering in the millions. So it's not wise to advertise your position because they can follow the beacons. We've had to fight them – and other empires as well – dozens of times in our long history, and it's been touch and go at times, so these days we're strictly a hermit empire, radio silent, and elusive. Rumored, but never found.

'The other thing you need to realize, is that the islands are constantly churning. Great rivers of air shuffle the islands, large and small hither and yon. An island a ten round – what you'd call a day – journey away, may, over time, become a hundred round journey, or a thousand. And these great currents change course or disappear as well, so no island stays in the same relative position, making beacons and charts useful only for a limited time. And there are only two fixed positions in the Pela – inwards and outwards, and once you get off the chart, there's nothing to set your course against, save a string of islands passed, that are often tumbling and turning so they won't look the same coming back a month later. So you see how handy it is to have a person on board who can lead you to where you're going just by sensing where it is. There's no way Prince Imvoy could find Redoubt Island, or the space station, or Cimmadar without me, so you can see why ol'Glen Colin is so valuable. He could spend his lifetime searching and never finding it. Oh, I'm a jewel in Prince Imvoy's crown.'

'I wouldn't call you a jewel,' said Vinden grimly, as we all turned to see him climbing up from the access well. 'A pimple on my arse, would be more accurate.'

'I serve as a pimple, if you wish, m'lord,' said Glen Colin with a grin, undaunted.

### Chapter 74 The Last Redoubt

01

Redoubt Island looked just like any other of the thousands of floating islands we had slipped by. It was shaped like a slightly bent finger, roughly six kilometers long by two in diameter. There were mossy meadows, sharp miniature mountains of lichen covered rocks, and forests of tall, fern-topped trees draped with colorful mats of flowering vines. A great flight of multicolored birds, and other flying creatures was stirred up by the arrival of the Raven. There was, however, no sign of the base. Glen Colin directed Molaye to bring the ship to a halt close alongside a vine matted facet at the tip of the island.

'We're home,' he said with a sigh, as we came to a dead stop, ten meters above, below, or alongside, a flat wall of vines – it was simply a matter of how you choose to look at it. There's no up or down in this sea of floating islands.

'Shore party to the airlock,' ordered an eager Vinden, adding with grin to Min. 'Finally!'

We – everyone but Molaye, Sar and Dici, who had the watch – gathered on the platform before the engine room air lock dressed in work clothes, jackets and gloves. Min and Vinden slipped through the pack to the airlock and turned to address us.

'Vikei and Tor will stand guard, one on each side of the ship,' said Vinden. 'Dragons have very sharp eyes and can be quite cunning. They'll circle around and come at you from just over the tree tops, so you'll have no more than a second to respond, or be carried off for dinner. If you see anything in the sky other than a local bird, give a yell. None are showing on radar at the moment and I've impressed upon Molaye the need to constantly monitor the radar and to warn us if she sees anything suspicious, but with the island blocking half the sky, we'll need to be rely on our own eyes as well,' said Vinden briskly. All of Vinden's henchmen were carrying heavy duty pirate pieces that looked capable of taking out small boats. 'And just to make that clear – everyone needs to keep an eye on the sky. Don't rely on the lookouts. This must become second nature if you hope to live long in the Pela.

'Our first order of business is to anchor the Raven to the island. We'll use the ship's crane and some of the cables we used to secure the Indomitable to tie us up to a couple of the larger vines.

'Our base is hidden behind the curtain of vines. If everything is in order, as I expect it will be, we'll find three hundred good and loyal men and women in sleeper-pods who've been awaiting our return. Once we've revived them, we'll get the base up and running, clear the cavern entrance, unload the Raven and send it back for the second load,' he said in an eager rush. 'Unless you have any questions, let's get going. I've been waiting eighty years for this day, and every minute wasted is painful to me.'

I guess we didn't care to hurt Vinden, since we kept our many questions to ourselves. And well, we were probably just as eager to get out and under way as Vinden.

He cranked open the outer hatch and we followed him out into the cool, fragrant air of the Pela. Stepping out onto the hull, held on by our magnetic boots, we spread out, drew a lungful of fragrant, flower-scented air and took in the boundless archipelago about us. I could see half a dozen other islands floating in the sky, fading into the bright haze to become vague, distant shadows in the pale blue-green sky. The vine covered cliff hid half the horizon-less sky. In space you took such oddness as a matter of course but here, standing in a milky white light that cast only the vaguest shadows, it was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. The fresh, fragrant breeze was laced with the scent of strange plants and flowers. The air was alive with the shrill cries and calls of the birds – well, flying creatures, anyway – that darted about us. What was missing was that sense of order you have on a planet or moon – of up and down, right and wrong. It wasn't right to have a massive mat of vines hanging overhead and a sky at our feet, so I quickly walked around the hull to the upper surface of the Rift Raven where the Indomitable rose over the open cargo hatch doors, putting the island alongside, and the sky above (and below, if you looked that way) which felt a little more right.

'Where does all this light come from?' asked Min, as she and Vinden followed us up. 'It seems to come from every direction. Or none at all. It's almost like the sky just glows.'

The light was a milky white, and the sky, for the most part was a very pale, hazy blue to blue-green which shaded into to a faint yellow in some directions. It was slightly brighter in one direction, which may've cast a vague shadow.

'It's a phenomena of the Tenth Star. You see, though it's star-like at its core, its upper strata are very luminous – coldly florescent. So what you have is this vast sphere emitting a cool, very bright white light which is diffused by the atmosphere throughout the Pela in spite of the countless islands and tens of millions of kilometers of atmosphere between us and the light source. The closer you get to the inner edge, the brighter and warmer the Pela gets, but it's never dark. Night is unimagined here – even on planet sized rocks, it never gets darker than twilight on the outward facing side, and most planets and moons don't rotate,' said Vinden, adding, 'But enough gawking, let's get to work. We need to anchor the ship.'

It wasn't my ship, or even my former ship, so I just waited for orders. Min glanced to Vynnia, who took charge. She directed some of the crew to use two of cables that had helped secure the Indomitable, as our anchor lines and directed Sar aboard the ship to use the cargo crane to carry the cables and two crew members over to the vine covered cliff to tie us up. Given no direct orders, I watched the proceedings, hands in my pockets, from the majestic height of a (former) tramp ship captain without comment.

After Vinden's crew had secured the ship, Vinden had Sar use the crane to punch a hole in the vines, sending up a swarm of small, angry birds darting out from the vines. As they flirted angrily around us, I realized they were very familiar.

'Bachelor birds!' I exclaimed.

Vinden laughed. 'Aye. And angry ones at that! Don't annoy them anymore. These aren't our tame ones.'

'What?' asked Ben Ton standing next to me.

'The birds.' I waved at them. 'We've had them living aboard the Starry Shore forever. This must be where they came from. Don't annoy them, they're fearless and will use their beaks as little swords,' I added, pulling the visor of my cap low over my eyes, just in case they decided I was to blame.

'They seem mad already,' he replied, following suit.

Once Sar had punched a doorway-sized hole through the vines and the bachelor birds had settled down a bit, we trooped out across the gap behind Vinden and Min along the crane arm to gather near the ragged hole the crane had torn.

'We'll need torches,' Tenry called back, sending the last person in line back to the airlock to fetch some.

The vine mat was all of three meters thick, the inner vines leafless. Beyond, was a cool, dark, and dank cavern that smelled of decaying vegetation with a sharp, acid undercurrent, lit only by specks of light filtering through the curtain of vines – just enough to make out the outline of the large cavern. We passed the torches forward.

'There,' Vinden said, pointing with his torch. 'There's the ledge with the walkway. It leads to the quay and base. Take a couple of men, Ten, and cut your way out through the vines from that point. We'll set up some hand lines to it once you're through to serve as an access bridge. And, by the way, you'd best assume any snake you come across is poisonous and deal with it promptly.'

'Right,' said Tenry, adding under his breath, 'Better late than never, I suppose.'

I followed him into the cavern, and, clinging to the vines, we made our way towards the ledge, looking for snakes with every handhold. Several of Vinden's men followed us – the ones who weren't leery of snakes, I suppose. The ledge was paved with a two-meter-wide, rusted metal grating that allowed us to stand using our magnetic soled boots. We then set out to carefully hack our way through the thick vine mat with plasma machetes. You need to be thoughtful when using plasma machetes – armored clothing provides some protection from a careless blow, but the hot, plasma edge to the blade can take a hand or head off rather effortlessly. A vine, the size of a tree trunk, blocked the entrance, which had to be cut through, warm work even with our plasma machetes. We had our jackets off before we reached the milky light of the Pela.

Once we emerged into the sunlight, they shot two lines across from the airlock and as soon as we secured them in the vines, the rest of the crew started across, hand over hand, in a holiday mood, even the guards, once everyone had cleared the ship.

Vinden took the lead followed by Min, Vynnia, and the rest of us, as we started off, into the darkness of the cave. We hadn't gone far before we reached a gateway of sorts – a concrete blockhouse in the shadows that rose up into the tangled vines overhead. Vinden cleared some foliage from a hidden panel and pressing his palm on the palm reader, caused a series of lamps lining the cavern wall along the path to flicker to life. From beyond a bend we could see a yellow glow flooding the far end of the cavern, etching its many cracks and crevasses in deep black shadows. With the sudden appearance of the lights the cavern's inhabitants squealed as one and took to the air in a thick swirling stream, flying just over our heads in a noisy maelstrom of dark, crow-like shapes with claws at the ends of their short wings. Thousands of 'em, it seemed.

'Dark-wraiths,' said Vinden over our startled curses. 'Harmless.'

He'd hardly finished speaking when we heard a loud, angry hiss from out of the shadows in the rocks alongside the blockhouse. Looking up I saw illuminated in the beams of half a dozen torches, a rather large snake or long necked dragon, its green feathers shimmering in the torch light, its crocodile head and a wide mouth open and showing its sharp teeth. It hissed again and looked down at us with dark eyes. It didn't look happy. Everyone reached for their weapons.

'Let it be!' commanded Vinden sharply. 'It's just a sentry serpent. Harmless if you leave it be.'

'Will it leave us be?' someone asked, but before Vinden could answer, the serpent-dragon shot out over our heads to join the circling flock of dark-wraiths, swimming through the air like an eel or a fish by wagging is long, feathered tail and using its forearms as fins to maneuver while chasing and devouring the dark-wraiths that didn't get out of its way fast enough.

'Stay clear of its nest and it'll steer clear of you. They're often domesticated on the small islands to keep villages free of pests,' said Vinden, and then pushed on around the bend towards the source of the lights.

The wide passage grew into a large grotto as we rounded the bend. The walkway widened into a broad quay, littered with piles of crates and machinery secured under cargo nets. Tied up alongside the quay was a battered, and rusting ship, similar in shape and size, to the Indomitable. It was surrounded by two slightly smaller vessels that I took to be freighters, each having only one deck-house aft along with stubby wings, steering vanes, and propellers with a flat, wide open deck stretching to an armored bow. In addition, there were scores of small boats tied up about the grotto harbor – fat, tubular vessels, with a sheltered section aft than housed the motor for the rear mounted propeller and steering vanes on either side. The rest of the boat mostly an open cage, crossed by some bars for structural support and seating.

Beyond the quay and harbor, the grotto stretched out and up into shadows. Three terraces of low concrete buildings rose in a semi-circle above the quay, dimly illuminated by a series of flood lights, and beyond, in the deepening shadows, lumps of machinery and perhaps more supplies secured to the rugged and steep hills that arched overhead. It became clear as we examined the base that this was not a cave, as such, but a hollow, created where two islands awkwardly met and became entangled. I could trace, in the dim light, the wide seam of old vines arching overhead and below the harbor where the two islands met. These vines were likely many meters thick, since no chinks of light penetrated through the ancient tangle.

Vinden paused briefly on the quay, looking about while the shrill cries of the dark-wraiths, and their faint echoes broke the tomb-like silence of the grotto. The only movement, the swirling dark-wraiths and the pursuing sentry serpent.

'Everything looks in order. The barracks are hidden up in that crevasse,' he said, pointing to a high, narrow valley at the far end of the grotto where the two islands came together.

Tenry, standing next to me glanced around, taking in the dark-wraith guano covered boxes, the battered, rusty ships and the dead and deserted base. 'He's remarkably optimistic,' he whispered.

'I'm afraid so,' I replied, equally quietly, as we joined the line of spacers behind Vinden, who had started off across the quay towards the dark seam beyond the ring of buildings.

We marched up through the rows of plain, flat-topped, concrete boxes that served as barracks, workshops and warehouses, along a metal grated walkway. All their doors were closed and sealed, the walkway littered with twigs, leaves and other, less identifiable debris, that were stirred up in a swirl of air as we trooped by, joining the floating debris drifting in the slight air currents. Except for the flying circus swirling overhead, it all very still, very tomb-like.

The metal walkway ended with the ring of buildings. Fortunately, our course now followed the vine laced seam so that we could continue on, pulling ourselves carefully along with our hands, like a line of swimmers along the bottom of a dim lit sea. Leaving the harbor base behind, we had to rely on the darting beams of our torches to find our way up into the shadows, as the seam narrowed into a rock lined crevasse where the two islands met. Vinden was going slowly now, looking for something in the rocky wall. He finally stopped, and finding a rock that moved, pushed it up and out of his way revealing the faint glow of a palm reader. As he placed his palm on the panel, he turned to us and said, 'We felt it best to hide the barracks in case the base was discovered.' As he spoke, a doorway in the rocks before him opened inwards and lights flickered and sprang out through the open door.

The door opened to a large, brightly lit room carved out of living rock. We glided in behind Vinden and latching on to the metal floor to stand once more and take in the large room carved out of stone. Tall racks of sleeper-pods lined two sides of the room – the remaining loyal forces of the old order, some three hundred strong. Crates under netting filled the back of the room, and in the corner, a small power room with two micro-reactors and generators. Here everything was in pristine order. We stood silently around Vinden while he took all this in. He may have even shed a tear, as he seemed to wipe one from his eye, at least as seen from behind.

I, on the other hand, couldn't help but feel a dart of dismay as I looked around. We were to bring down an empire with this crew? In vids and books, perhaps... but for real? I looked back to Vinden as he shook himself clear of his sentimentality, and sprang into action. He stalked over to the first stack of sleeper-pods and directed some of his men to pull out the bottom one. They settled it on the floor, trailing its power cord.

He stood for a few moments longer, looking down on the pod, its clear top thinly veiled in dust.

'Step closer and have a look. I've a few words to say before I revive Captain DarQue,' he said indicating to his two helpers to open the lid of the pod.

We obediently shuffled closer and looked down on the sleeping DarQue. He was a tall, slender man with a lean, high cheek boned face, who was dressed in a uniform of dark, emerald green with gold trimmings that accented his slimness. His hair was also a dark green and very long, half way down his back from what we could see. Looking closer, I realized it wasn't hair. Not exactly.

'Captain DarQue is a Cim, a broad-feathered human, a native of the Pela. People like us – so called fine-feathered people, who can, seemingly trace our roots back to the Neb and Terra, are known as the Dar. As you can see, the Cim have feathers replacing hair like all of the unique fauna of the Pela. Since we have no firsthand account of the Dars arriving in the Pela, we've no way of knowing if the broad-feathered people were here when we arrived. Even stranger is the fact that their DNA is nearly identical to our own Homo Stellar, Terra engineered DNA. The small differences account for their broad-feathers and their more articulated feet and longer toes that enable them to comfortably live in the zero-gravity conditions of the smaller islands far better than we fine-feathered folk. The two races are unable to cross breed, so we remain two distinct races. The broad-feathered population accounts for nine out of twelve people in Cimmadar, a ratio common in the Pela we know.

'I want to impress upon you that you're to treat the broad-feathered just as you would anyone else. In Cimmadar, the Cim and the Dar people have lived side by side since the founding legends and they are critically important to our success. Moreover, I strongly advise you to treat everyone you meet with courtesy, since we, broad or fine-feathered, are, by nature and necessity, fierce, proud people who have rather direct ideas of justice. You'll find no finer friends nor deadlier enemies than in the peoples of the Pela. Be advised that affronts to honor are often settled by duels. I've downloaded the Cimmadar language to your com links and most of our customs. But until you've completely absorbed that info, be careful of what you say and how you act. DarQue, I'm sure, will see that his people give you some leeway, as outsiders, but only for so long and only up to a point,' he paused and looked around grimly. 'You're no longer in the Unity, nor even in the drifts. You're in the most primitive place you've ever known. I can only give you so much protection.'

I wondered how Min was taking all this. I could see concern on Vynnia's face, but Min's was impassive.

'Right,' Vinden concluded, and knelt down, opened the pod and touched the controls to turn off the stasis field, bringing Captain DarQue back to life. Within seconds DarQue drew a deep breath and blinked his eyes open. He stared into space for a few seconds, no doubt wondering what had happened, and then looked around. His eyes widened as he saw Vinden kneeling beside his box.

'Prince Imvoy!' he whispered in his language, translated by my com link.

'Captain DarQue, my dear comrade. I have returned to stay and conquer,' replied Vinden.

DarQue sat up, his green feathered mane floating about him, and looked slowly around, taking us all in, until he saw Min, who was dressed, as usual in her blacks and whites, looking trim, dashing, and vaguely dangerous. His gaze stopped. He stared at Min for a long moment, before he realized what he was doing and hastily turned back to Vinden. 'Empress Onala?'

Vinden sadly shook his head. 'Onala is dead. Killed by our enemies with her consort.'

DarQue closed his eyes and muttered something, likely a quiet curse, under his breath that the com link didn't catch. Then, looking to Vinden he said, 'Then all is lost.'

'No my friend. Not at all. Though dear Onala is dead. She lived many rounds of rounds and she had a daughter, now the rightful Empress. She has come to reclaim the Cloud Throne,' replied Vinden, lifting his arm to indicate Min. 'My niece, the Empress Ocila.'

DarQue's eyes darted to Min and he rose like a shot. 'Empress,' he said bowing low to Min.

She considered him for a moment before stepping forward and offering her hand. 'My name is Tallith Ocila Min. My uncle has told me of your loyalty, your devotion to my mother and your many brave deeds. I want to thank you for your service in our cause. I am here to restore the rightful line of succession to the Cloud Throne,' she said, clearly, in the Cimmadarian language. Understanding it is easy with a com link, speaking it, even with a com link translation, takes an effort. Clearly Min was intent on making a good first impression.

'I am your servant,' he said not meeting her eye nor daring to take her hand.

'Your hand, DarQue,' she said. 'I am not my mother. I shall do things my own way. Once I sit on the Cloud Throne I may act as a proper Empress, but until then I shall behave as I always have. And I won't stand for court ceremony in our endeavor.'

DarQue eyed her hand and gingerly took it – such familiarity was out of the ordinary, judging from the information the com link provided. Nevertheless, Min held it tight. 'I've grown up outside the great shell with different customs. I've been out in the worlds and on my own for many rounds of rounds. I've sailed the black seas and earned my way as a ship's captain, trader and owner. I am not fragile. And I have so very much to learn if I am to be Cimmadar's Empress one day.'

DarQue glanced up, met her dark eyes for a long moment and said, 'You are the Empress, Tallith Ocila Min. There is no doubt of that.'

Another conquest, but then, was she blushing a little?

'Empress or not, I am in command. And you are my second in command, Admiral DarQue,' she said. I suppressed a grin. Promoting DarQue and cutting Prince Imvoy Vinden out of the chain of command right at the beginning was, well, an interesting maneuver. Impulsive or calculated? 'Prince Imvoy is my grand visor, Vynnia enCarn is my chief of staff, Tenry Roynay my executive officer, and Wil Litang will captain our space ship, the Rift Raven. They are my trusted advisers, as you shall be,' she said, indicating us in turn.

She released his hand and he shook ours in turn.

Impulsive or calculated, I was quite sure it was done without consulting Uncle Hawk, for he looked far, far from happy. Clearly Min was determined to take charge right at the onset – which was all to the good – and by establishing the chain of command now, at the very start, it ended any further discussion.

'Now Admiral, Uncle Hawk has built two of the finest, most powerful ships that have ever sailed the Pela and I know he's eager to show you your flag ship, the Indomitable. Shall we go out and inspect it? After that, we can see to reviving your crews and reawakening our cause.'

Tenry and I exchanged a look and a quick grin. It did seem like we'd just witnessed a coup of sorts, and Vinden's scowl when he saw us grinning, only confirmed it.

02

I'm afraid this account gets rather fragmentary going forward since time is a very flexible concept in the Pela. There's no concept of a day since there is no night. The sun's never seen, never sets, and even on the rare large islands that rotate or tumble, the diffuse nature of the light means that it only gets dimmer, not dark. As a consequence, most of the inhabitants of the Pela order their lives around a set of traditional activities, which varies from tribe to tribe, society to society, and organization to organization. One completed set of activities is called a round, which might be thought of as a day, though the duration of a round depends entirely on circumstances which might vary widely from one round to the next. The actual duration never matters, only the pattern mattered. And, I gather, in the smaller tribes, this round is based on individuals, so that it could vary in relation to everyone else's round in a random fashion. In larger organizations, however, rounds tended to be fairly synchronized.

Officially, the Cimmadar Empire keeps time for records, taxes, and employment, but I gather most of its citizens pay little attention to it, save for official duties. The Empress's Navy, for example, keeps watches just as we do, but without the pretense of day and night. It was simply an endless round of routine activities. One sleep watch to the next is considered a round and is divided into specific watches devoted to certain duties. In the navy, these activities do have a set duration, since the crews are active around the round in shifts, but only the officer in charge pays attention to the duration. The crews simply move from one activity to the next when ordered – and the activities usually follow a set order so it's little different than the timeless round of life they'd grown up in.

Time aboard a spaceship is just as abstract, given that every planet's days vary in duration. We keep Calissant time on the Starry Shore, even though we've not returned to Calissant for years. In any event, we fell effortlessly into Pela's timeless pattern, especially since we were left to operate pretty much on our own.

This freedom of action is the second reason my narrative gets rather vague. We – Vynnia and Tenry, my crew, and Vinden's crew, were considered the personal staff of the Empress and Prince Imvoy, and not subject to naval routine or orders at present, so we operated independently and without much direction from our nominal superiors. Neither Min nor Vinden took an active hand in directing our activities. They, along with Tenry and Vynnia, DarQue, and his staff, were too wrapped up in planning the operation to pay much attention to us – and DarQue did not presume to do more than suggest where we might help, leaving the actual arrangements to us. Essentially, we worked as volunteers, unloading the cargo, outfitting the various ships with the weapons and supplies, and instructing the Cimmadarians in the use of the new technology Vinden had introduced in his version of the Pela warships. We all worked until we tired of working, ate when we were hungry, slept when we were sleepy, and lounged about until we got bored. The ship's cycle of watches went unminded. And the work got done.

And finally there is a personal dimension to this timelessness. In my mind, when I left the Starry Shore, I'd left my profession and the ship, my home for a quarter of a century behind. I was now at loose ends. I told Molaye to consider herself acting captain, pending final confirmation by Min. I took my appointment as captain of the Rift Raven as coming into effect once it officially joined the Cimmadarian navy, so I left Molaye to run things aboard her, enjoying a sweet and sour sense of being at loose ends for the first time in three decades.

And perhaps there was a lingering halo of my brief affair with Min as well. Though objectively it was two years ago, subjectively it was only a matter of weeks since I'd felt free enough to make love to her against the no. 4 hold bulkhead. That type of freedom doesn't fade all that fast. Other than that quick look when we'd been awakened, she'd never acknowledged our intimacy in words, actions, or even looks, and I'd followed suit. Her passion had been turned off, as had mine. And yet, I'd a sense of, well, privilege, a sense that for the first time since my youth, I was not only free of responsibilities, but free to do as I pleased, and to do what I pleased without guilt. Almost, anyway.

Taken together, all of these factors contributed to a timeless, idyllic air about my first unnumbered rounds in the Archipelago of the Tenth Star. All told, I believe it took over a month, ship time, to offload all of our entire cargo to Redoubt island. The crew, at any rate, was in no hurry to return to the blackness of space, and Molaye didn't drive them. Hard, anyway.

So with these explanations out of the way, I'll set out the events in their rough order with only vague estimates of the duration between them. Not that it matters.

03

After giving Admiral DarQue a tour of his new flagship we began the work of awakening the Loyalists. DarQue organized them and set them to work putting the base into working order – setting up the commissary, airing the mess rooms and bunk rooms and scrubbing the neglect of years from the base, boats and ships and getting them into bright, working order. Lookouts were posted in overgrown watch stations to keep an eye for dragons, and other dangers. Work parties were organized to cut away enough vines at the cavern entrance to allow the Indomitable to enter the harbor. The two rocket-gun emplacements buried in the vines that guard the entrance were cleared and manned. The sentry serpent guarding the walkway was, however, left undisturbed.

After getting the base in some sort of order, the Raven was cleared of her cargo. The larger ships in the harbor were hauled out of the grotto and tied up alongside the island to allow the Indomitable and the boxes containing its supplies to be hauled in on long cable lines. As soon as we had cleared the Raven, anchoring the boxes outside the cavern to save time, I sent Molaye and her small crew back to the ship to collect the next load. Glen Colin sailed with them as guide and Pela expert, even though we'd left that string of laser radio buoys to mark the way. Vinden was not about to take the chance they'd somehow get lost on the way back in.

'Give everyone a chance to visit the Pela. No one should miss experiencing it, especially since we've come so far to find it. I think you can keep a minimum harbor aboard the ship,' I said to Molaye, adding, 'Though I suppose I should leave those decisions up to you now, and be sure to bring Botts in on this next trip.'

'Botts?'

'Aye. It's a shipmate too, and I'm sure it'll find this all very interesting.'

She gave me a look, but said, 'Right.'

'Good sailing, Captain,' I said taking her hand.

'I'm not captain yet.'

'Acting Captain. Same thing. See you in ten days. Don't push it.'

'You'll see me again when you see me. I've already lost track of days.'

'Aye. Now off with you.'

Later – I was standing on the last container, overseeing the rigging of lines connected to the web of pulleys and steering cables we had constructed to haul the Indomitable and its supplies into the grotto base, when Min walked out of the cavern and waving to me, jumped aboard the box. I'd only caught glimpses of her these last (unnumbered) rounds – ever since we awoke DarQue, in fact.

'I'm tired of talk and planning,' she said as she walked over to stand beside me, covertly watched by all her loyal sailors as they worked. 'I need some sunlight and fresh air for a change.'

'Welcome on board. Where are your keepers?' I asked. She was never out and about without Uncle Hawk and Admiral DarQue and a gaggle of staff in tow.

'Sleeping, as I should be,' she answered, with a grin. 'They want me to act like the Empress, the Almighty Ruler of the Cimmadar Empire. I'm not sure that's really what's called for here, amongst the last of my mother's loyal followers, but until I get a feel for how things work here, I've gone along with it.'

'Until now.'

'Until now. Time to start getting a feel for things on my own.'

'Probably a good idea. And oh, I haven't had the opportunity to thank you for appointing me captain of the Rift Raven. Thanks,' I said. 'I do very appreciate it. I know you have your misgivings about me.'

'The logical choice,' she replied watching the sailors heaving on the cables that were slowly beginning to move the box into position to enter the cavern's entrance. I absently watched the proceedings – they were now old hands at this, so it wasn't as if I had to do anything anymore, but appear to be in charge.

'I assumed the appointment takes effect when the Raven becomes part of your navy, not immediately.'

'Would it make any difference?' she asked with a sidelong glance.

'It might've,' I replied with my own sidelong glance.

'I doubt it. But then, you won't be my problem for much longer. I'm handing you off to Admiral DarQue. He can deal with you.'

'Oh, I'm sure he can,' I replied. 'A very capable and, I might add, a dashing looking fellow as well. I'm sure you're wise to put yourself in his confident hands.'

She smiled without looking at me. 'Jealous?'

'Not at all. I'm delighted. You two make a formidable pair. And a formidable pair is what's needed.'

'We do, and he is dashing,' she replied giving me a challenging look, adding with a wicked smile, 'I like dashing fellows – for a change of pace.'

'A little variety never hurts. But I suppose I shouldn't tease my would-be-empress. That could be dangerous. Speaking of which, I was impressed by your little coup. Uncle Hawk didn't look too pleased. Was that planned or an improvisation of the moment?'

She smiled, rather grimly. 'Uncle Hawk wasn't too pleased, but he set out to place me on the Cloud Throne as the Empress of Cimmadar, and if I'm to be the Empress, I needed to act the part, play the role, and best do it right from the beginning.'

'It's a role you were indeed born to.'

'You think so Wil?' she said with a sidelong glance and a sly smile.

'I know so.'

'And yet, somehow, it never seems to deter you, does it?'

'That was before,' I said, and catching her knowing smile, added, 'And besides, you're not yet on the throne. But getting back to your coup, why did you do it? I gather Vinden called the shots during you mother's day and expected to continue to do so.'

'He did, but I decided otherwise,' she replied. 'Uncle Hawk had told me many good things about the daring and competence of this Captain DarQue, and seeing him, I decided that by giving him full responsibility for the campaign under me, I'd kill several birds with one stone. First I hoped to insure his loyalty, and by doing so, I'd win the loyalty of his sailors as well. I am, after all, an outsider. We need to make this an internal squabble, not an invasion from the outside. And secondly, by appointing DarQue my second in command I hope to make it clear I'm of Cimmadar and for Cimmadar.'

'I don't envy the spot you've put him in. I gather he and Prince Imvoy were brothers in arms in the old days.'

She shrugged. 'Which means they'll work things out and work well together.'

'Well, DarQue didn't seem to mind his promotion.'

'Nor did you, when I hired you.'

'True. Hopefully he'll be more reliably biddable.'

'He'd better be, and you'd better be too. Remember here I'm the Empress, and I don't intend to suffer fools gladly.'

'You never did. But now I'll have to watch my tongue.'

'If you intend to keep it, you will,' she replied and continued, 'I'm sure Uncle Hawk will be a great hand at politics and palace intrigue when the time comes, and in Vyn and Ten, I have very competent military people on my staff, so I didn't need him issuing commands to my navy as well.'

'Do you know how we're to go about it? Capturing the throne and all that?'

'Our first objective will be Cimmadar's space station located in the shell-reef, a month of travel away. It's Cimmadar's link to the Neb. Once we've secured it, we'll sail into the Pela for Cimmadar itself, a journey of some three months, or so I understand.'

'What do you have planned for the Raven? It's not a very handy craft in the islands, as you well know.'

'We'll use the Raven mostly as a supply and support ship, though in the initial campaign for the space station, it may have a much more active role, since it is our largest and fastest space ship, and will be operating in its native environment. After capturing the space station, we may modify its cargo holds to transport soldiers and such. And there's talk of adding temporary wings and small rockets or propellers to it to make it more manageable in the islands. I'd imagine it will often be an independent command, running troops and supplies between the space station and captured bases and such, which suits your disinclination for bloodshed, and disinclination to follow orders when they don't suit you as well. Then, when this is all over, I plan to use the Raven as part of Cimmadar's small fleet of drift traders. You can remain her captain for as long as you want. That way you'll have served me, as promised, and still be able to follow your dream of growing cha whenever.'

I considered that for a moment and nodded. 'Yes, that will suit me fine. Thank you.'

04

My work varied. I spent some watches instructing the Cimmadarian gunners on the use of the Indomitable modern weapon control and tracking system. They previously used individually mounted and fired rocket launchers and cannons, so the concept of a central fire command – directed by radar – was a new concept. For one watch, I stood in a long line of sailors tossing small missiles to the next fellow in the line which flowed from a container, across the quay and gangplank, and down into the Indomitable magazine. I slept when I was tired, ate in the commissary, which was serving a mix of synth food fresh greens and thin strips of unidentified meat supplied by the hunting parties that went out each round. I didn't care to ask what it was. The hunting parties were using those small semi-open boats that had been tied up to DarQue's old ship, the Guardian, to range through the nearby islands, hunting for meat on the hoof, claw or wing. My new Cimmadar mates said that hunting parties are the most eagerly anticipated, if dangerous, duties which life in the Cimmadar navy offered, short of battle.

Work eventually tapered off, for us outsiders, anyway, as the equipment and supplies we brought in were installed and stored aboard the Indomitable as. We were left waiting for the Raven's second coming. The focus of work now shifted to refurbishing the old Guardian, and since we outsiders didn't have much expertise (or interest) in refurbishing the rather primitive vessel, we spent our time acquainting ourselves with everyday life in the Pela. One important skill to be mastered was walking on the weightless surfaces of these small islands. You could, of course, just swim across the landscape, using your hands to pull yourself along, but that meant that your hands weren't free to do other things, like defend yourself from predators, and you had to be more focused on your next handhold than on what was happening around you, or in the sky above.

Min, Vynnia, Tenry, and I, along with Ben Ton, and Racken, another of Vinden's crew, set out to master this skill under the watchful eyes of an elegantly tall broad-feathered female sub-captain by the name of Trin and a big, wide, tough looking broad-feathered sergeant by the name of XinDi. We went well armed. You always went well armed in the Pela. I now wore a darter whenever I wasn't sleeping and hung it close at hand when I was. Ben and Racken carried 4mm pirate pieces, the rest of us, standard 2mm darters, while the Cimmadarians were armed with long barreled rifles that fired explosive shells.

We strapped a set of articulated steel claws to the toes our boots, which, if we set our feet down correctly, would send the curved, talon-like blades into the turf; rough moss or underbrush of the islands, that provided just enough grip to keep us precariously attached to the floating island. We walked carefully, digging one foot in before tearing or sliding the other foot out of the tough moss. The claws were set by shuffling back a little with each step, a process not too unlike the shuffling gait we use with our magnetic boots. In addition, we carried a walking stick with a hook on the bottom for additional stability, and a small folding grappling hook and line on our belt, to use if we should carelessly break free of the surface. The broad-feathered people wear flexible, sandal-like magnet-soled shoes that allows their longer, and more articulated feet and talon tipped toes the freedom to grab the surface while walking, without the need for artificial claws.

It was cool, bright, and clear when we gingerly stepped off of the metal walkway and started to cautiously walk along the paths cut through the maze of tree and vine roots that led from the entrance to the Redoubt to the row of ships anchored alongside the island.

It took practice to get the hooks properly gripping the underbrush or turf, wiggle the trailing foot free without undoing the other one. The walking sticks came in handy, and at first, a helping hand to pull you back to the island again. We set out to circle the island, avoiding the bare rocks, though the Cimmadarians could handle those as well. By the time we'd walked halfway around the island to reach a wide meadow covered in springy moss and sprinkled with small wild flowers and drifts of thin, reed-like plants, we'd begun to get the hang of it.

The air on this outer edge of the Pela was cool, and after our struggles with walking, refreshing. Birds, flying feathered snakes, and lizards darted or undulated overhead, making shrill calls and bright songs. Bright butterflies flirted and large beetles buzzed by us. The horizon, which was always just the edge of the island, changed with almost every step. We were crossing the meadow, concentrating on setting our feet properly, when the sound of a distant bugle drifted to us in the breeze. Instantly our two guides froze and looked skywards. Trin spied it first, pointing to a mere speck in the milky sky.

'Pardon me, Empress,' she said, her language translated by our com links, and snapped a brief order to XinDi. 'Carry the Empress to safety, sergeant,' she commanded, pointing to the dark green tree tops of a small forest peeking over the near horizon.

He gave her a startled look.

'Now.' snapped Trin with an abrupt, commanding gesture.

XinDi quickly gave a slight bow, looked at Min for a moment before mumbling inarticulately and deftly snatched her off her feet. Laying her over his shoulder, he took off at a loping gallop, skimming the moss with low, long strides, very fast and very sure.

'There is no danger,' said Trin, turning to the rest of us, and seeing our, well, mild disbelief, added, 'Just a prudent precaution. The Admiral would have my life if I didn't take every precaution with the Empress. Now if you'll follow XinDi – as fast as you can without flying off – we'll take cover in the fist-tree forest in case the dragon comes this way.'

That said, she un-slung her rifle and herded us along as we took off for the forest at our best, fast-walking pace. I suspect we learned more about navigating the floating islands in those two minutes than we had in the hour before. It's amazing how a dragon focuses one's mind, even if there is no danger.

It seemed to have been a closer run affair than Trin had us believing. We'd only reached the edge of the fist-tree forest and started pushing and pulling our way through the thicket of vines under the thick, gnarled branches of the umbrella shaped fist-trees that grow between the tall, swaying fern-top trees when a vague shadow crossed over us. It had to be flying pretty Neb-blasted low to cast even a vague shadow in the omni-directional light of the Pela.

Looking up, I saw, through the wide openings in the fist-tree branches, a flash of blue and green as a large lizard-dragon settled into the swaying top of a fist-tree just ahead – not twenty meters up. It swung its long neck back to look down at us, rather crossly, no doubt keenly disappointed to have just missed us in the meadow, and shifted itself around to face us. I didn't think the branches between us and the dragon would offer much of a determent should it decide to lunch on us. Neb, it only needed to extend its neck and it'd be halfway down to us.

Vynnia and Tenry, Ben and Racken had their darters in hand as soon as we pulled up panting. I didn't bother, deciding mine wasn't needed. Even a large dragon was out of my effective range at twenty meters. Min and XinDi were deeper in the forest, protected by a rocky outcropping. They also had their weapons out.

'Don't fire!' Trin ordered. 'We're safe now, she'll leave us alone if we let her alone,' She glared around at all of us to make sure we were following her orders.

I thought she was being wildly optimistic again – the dragon didn't strike me like it was ready to leave us alone. Still, even with a lethal darter, I wasn't going to start anything with this large, keenly disappointed, lizard-style dragon. I, at any rate, was happy to leave it alone.

This was the first I'd seen a dragon this close up, and I couldn't help but notice all the details. Its body was covered in a shimmering coat of feathers that varied from a light blue belly to a dark green back, with streaks of orange and reds. It had a long tail covered with wide feathers blue, fading to green trimmed in yellows and reds. It had four feather-fringed limbs that ended in large, talon tipped claws. All four limbs had a downy membrane connected to its body that, with its limbs extended, it used like wings to travel in the air. Its head had a feather crown, with two large, shiny black eyes and a wide, long mouth equipped with the usual abundance of teeth mounted on a long neck. It was watching us closely with its cold black eyes.

And, as I mentioned, it didn't strike me as if it was ready to abandon its snack just yet. The Fist-tree we'd taken cover under had a very thick trunk which, about twenty meters up, branched out into half a dozen or more thick, gnarled branches, that spread out like the spokes of an umbrella. The smaller branches are thin and willowy, with long and knife-like leaves. The openings between large branches might to be narrow enough to block a direct lunge at us at the trunk, but as they spread out, the openings got bigger and the branches smaller. It could, I felt, get at us if it had a mind to. Why, with its long neck, it didn't have to get all that much closer to grab one of us.

'Dragons are quite intelligent,' Trin said, her long weapon at her shoulder aimed at the dragon. 'I believe she knows what we are and what these weapons can do. She knows that if she were to try to get at us, we'd very likely kill her with our fire weapons. She knows she lost this meal,' and then, strangely enough, she raised her voice and said, 'Fly away my dear! There's nothing here for you to eat but us, and we have many fire weapons to defend ourselves. Try your luck on some other island.'

The dragon gave a long low hissing snarl that sounded neither intelligent or congenial, and it didn't make any move to fly away either. It seemed content to perch in the upper branches of the fist-tree and consider its options.

'Fly away now, before more of us come to kill you,' Trin replied boldly. 'We're hungry for meat. So unless you want to be our dinner, fly now, before it's too late. Our weapons reach far, and our aim is unerring.'

I didn't think threatening to eat a twenty-meter-long dragon was exactly diplomatic for people in our position, but then, what did I know? Still, after a few more moments of studying us with her gleaming dark eyes, she either took Trin's warning to heart, or noticed the large band of running, armed sailors emerging from around the short uneven horizon of the island and venting a loud hissing snarl of disappointment, sprang upwards. Spreading her four winged limbs, she soared up into the pale sky, the back-draft from her wings and tail, pushing us back a step.

We let out our collective breaths, in a long sigh.

'Could she really understand what you said?' asked Vynnia.

'Many of us believe so. They're unable to speak our language, of course, and likely have no interest in doing so if they could. But I believe she can understand our intent by reading something of what we think. She seemed to know us for people who could bite back, otherwise she would've attacked us straight off. If we'd been armed, like many of the islanders with only spears and arrows, we'd have little luck avoiding being her lunch. The fact that she didn't attack either means she was familiar with our weapons, or could read the pictures I was forming in my mind of what our weapons would do to her. Either is possible, since dragons range far and wide and live very long lives, so it is possible that she knew our capabilities even in this remote place.'

Then she looked at me, 'You're not afraid of dragons, Captain Litang?'

'Not afraid? I assure you, I was running as fast as I could, Sub-captain.'

'Yet you felt no need to draw your weapon?'

'Oh, that. I'm not very handy with weapons. I tend to be rather wild in my firing – mere fireworks for the most part. Couldn't hit the Indomitable at ten paces. The dragon was too far out of my effective range to bother. '

'And if it had decided to attack us?'

I shrugged. 'I've no doubt that you, Sub-captain, or my shipmates would've dealt with it. I believe our weapons are deadly enough to have dealt with it long before it was in my range.'

'You rely on others for your protection?' she asked, giving me a rather dismissive look.

'I rely on experts to do their job,' I replied giving her a level one in return. 'I expect, Sub-captain Trin, that you're such an expert, or you wouldn't have been assigned to escort the Empress on this excursion. I doubt I'm wrong.' Which, I thought, was a nicely balanced double edged thrust. I wasn't prepared to be rebuked by a mere sub-captain, especially at the start of this expedition, when we were all taking each others measure, but I didn't want to ruffle her feathers too much either.

She gave me another, unreadable look, nodded, and turned to wait for the rescue party from the base to arrive. Tenry gave me a grin, but said nothing.

We treated it like a carefree adventure, but it was clear that DarQue, who was leading the rescue party, which arrived shortly afterward, was treating it as anything but a carefree adventure.

05

With the Raven gone I slung a hammock in one of the cabins aboard the Indomitable, that I shared with Vynnia and Tenry. They were closely involved in the planning of the campaign, so I didn't see them often, and made it a point to sleep when they weren't.

Stepping out onto the dim lit quay side, after one awakening, I found the grotto harbor busy once more. The Raven had returned. Hurrying to the cavern mouth, I saw that they were already attaching the cables on to the first of the large crates that held the scout boats – the 15x 3 meter boats with sleek, rounded hull, several steering vanes and a large propeller aft, that were built for speed. Emerging into the sunlight I greeted my (former) crew. Molaye had left only Illy and Sar in charge of the ship. They hadn't needed Glen Colin's help, so he stayed mostly sober the whole passage and Botts had done most of the piloting, on the sly, so it had been a pleasant passage especially once through the shell-reef.

'Hey, Skipper,' hailed Riv who was idly watching the proceedings. Cargo handling wasn't an engineer's job. 'So this your new home?'

'For a while,' I replied, as I hauled myself aboard the ship by one of its anchor lines to stand by him. I told him my arrangement with Min. 'So, you see, I may be here only for a year or two. I rather think the Pela is a bit too exciting for me.'

'Don't they need cha planters here?'

'I don't know, but I do know I'd not care to grow cha if I constantly had to look over my shoulder for dragons.'

'That dangerous, Skipper?'

'If you hear the bugle sound, head for cover before you even start looking around, Riv,' I replied and told him about our encounter with a dragon.

I found Botts out of sight, on the far side of ship, dressed like a spaceer.

'What are you? Some sort of scarecrow?'

'I am being discrete, Captain,' it replied, turning to me. 'Thank you, Captain, for inviting me here. This is amazing. You've made me quite famous.'

'My pleasure. I take it the Directorate wasn't aware of the Tenth Star and its Archipelago.'

'We were not, and only now are we reassessing our charts of the nebula to pinpoint the location of the Tenth Star.'

'They can do that? I thought you couldn't access the ship's systems or track you by your quantum link.'

'I didn't, and they can't. I did, however, provide the Directorate with a rough estimate of our course, and duration. Knowing the ship, as I do, I recorded the burn times and estimated strengths of the main and steering rockets while setting the course and building the ship's velocity. Then, during the passage I noted the timing and the duration of the various engines used for maneuvering during the passage. Based on this set of rough estimates, plus our fuel consumption, the Directorate built a model that estimated our course and velocity and from that, identified a rather large search area, a sphere of some 50 astronomical units in diameter in which the Tenth Star could be located. It is, not unexpectedly, a remote and unexplored area of many dense black reefs on the far side of the Nebula. Its estimated density could easily hide a star. Given its remoteness and no compelling features, the Directorate had assigned a low priority to surveying the suspect area in detail, so that the Tenth Star would only have been discovered by the Directorate some 34,000 years from now, when that area was scheduled for a detailed survey.'

'Thirty-four thousand years. That's what I call long range planning.'

'We have the time, Captain. And the computing prowess to plan that far in the future. This,' it swept his hand to encompass the Pela, 'is going to take a great deal of time and computing prowess to assess and decide how to handle its existence.'

'Perhaps even more than you think. There are hints that a non-human intelligent race or races, exists within the Pela. The run of the mill dragons you'll encounter may be intelligent, and there are legends that a super advanced dragon race exists as well. You've no doubt noticed that the wildlife has no counterpart in the Neb, and is likely unknown within the human settlement sphere as well. Plus, there's a race of humans here that share 97% of our DNA but are feathered and distinct enough that they cannot cross breed with us. I believe, Botts, that the Tenth Star is going to offer the Directorate a vast gold field for logical art, for eons to come.'

'Indeed, Captain. From what I've observed already, I am certain you are right. It's a micro-universe to explore. I'd like permission to make a start.'

'Of course. How do you propose to do that?'

'Riv and I have constructed a long range rocket sled. I'd like permission to take it off to explore on my own. That way I can begin to collect a small sample of data while at the same time avoid any unwanted attention my presence might bring.'

'Right,' I did some rapid calculations. 'Time is pretty tenuous here, so it's hard to set a solid date. But, I think we can count on at least twenty more days. If we're finished before then, which I doubt, I'll have them linger at the last buoy at the edge of the Pela, broadcasting a signal on our standard frequency. Would that be enough time?'

'Hardly, Captain, but I'll gladly take it.'

'I suppose I've no real hold on you, Botts. You don't really need my permission, or need to return at all.'

'I am a member of your crew, Captain. While I also have a general, roving assignment for the Directorate, my first loyalty is still to my shipmates. The everyday, immediate loyalties are the most important ones. The Directorate will want to study this with specialized machines and has eons to do it, so this is little more than a personal outing. It is not necessary, if you'd rather not have me off and away.'

'Of course not. I invited you here just so you could have a look around. I certainly owe you that and much more as well. However, I'll admit that, I'd like you back and looking after my shipmates and the Starry Shore, at least until they get home again.'

'I certainly will, Captain.'

'Good. Now off you go. But be careful, Botts. Don't underestimate the dragons. They're eagle eyed, fearless, and while they may not be able to digest you, they'll certainly try.'

'I've built a fast, powerful sled, plus, I have a wide variety of sensors, so don't worry, Dad, I'll be fine.'

'Right, off with you.'

It stepped into the engine room airlock, hauled out the flat, three-meter-long rocket sled. Lying flat behind the low control panel, it waved and shot off into the horizon-less sky, quickly dwindling to a dot and disappeared completely. If the sentries noticed it, they recognized that it wasn't a dragon, and no one said anything about it.

Curiously, this second run also brought the bachelor birds. They must have smelled home on the returning crew, and knew us well enough to be waiting in the gig when the crew arrived to take it over to the Rift Raven for the next trip in. Every last one of them, I gather. And as the cats would no doubt tell you – if they could talk – you don't mess with the bachelor birds and their pointy beaks, so they hitched a ride home aboard the Raven. They were out of the airlock the moment it was opened and they did'na return. We never figured out how they reproduced – hence their name – but their curious behavior suggests that they may've been the original crew. In any event, they've returned home and it seems that they intend to stay. The little birds of the Pela seemed pretty smart.

The sentry serpent hatched a family which she allowed to roam free. The youngsters, half a dozen of them, were a meter long and capable of taking a large spoonful out of you if they cared to. They were fearless and curious, but not aggressive. The big question, at least for us outsiders, was how maternal was mama? You'd hate to have to absently brush aside one of the little ones, have it hiss at you and have mama take off your head over it, which made going in and out of the grotto a nerve-wracking affair at times. I wondered why we didn't just shoo her out or serve her for lunch, but I've been finding that Cimmadarians have all sorts of ideas and superstitions about the dragons, and Vinden, a Cimmadarian, apparently held sentry serpents to be lucky or something.

I believe it took us something on the order of five ship days to get the Raven unloaded and off again on its last run. Vinden fumed, but neither Molaye nor I pushed to clear the ship. Five days in a paradise, even one with teeth, was not an overindulgence for a four-year voyage. Molaye took only a skeleton crew back with her, the rest stayed on to help out or just hang about, bunking in the barracks.

06

In addition to the scout boats, the Raven also brought the final fittings for the Indomitable – the electric motors to drive the propellers which were to be attached to the tips of its short after-wings. Once the Indomitable was fitted with these wingtip engines and propellers it'd be too wide to pass through the cavern, so it was hauled out and tied alongside the island. Tall fern-top trees were cut down for spars to be used to keep it clear of the island for the final installation of its engines, propellers and propeller guards. Seen in the open and fully equipped, the ship looked rather like an ancient galleon, with a high forecastle and stern, but instead of masts, it had a third island amidships, which housed the ship's bridge or wheelhouse at the very top above the grated deck. The two open decks between the deck houses were enclosed by grates, as were the decks on the tops of the deck-houses. There were two rows of missile launchers protruding from each side of the hull, with several more at the tops of the deck houses and along the center line of the lower hull. It had two short wings set near its stern, with large, caged propellers mounted at their wingtips. The wings, and the two vertical tails at each of the engine mounts had movable panels to steer the ship. It also mounted modest rocket engines in the stern for use when crossing the airless space between the space station and the Pela proper. Though these engines were under-powered for the size of the ship, speed was apparently not a priority. They, after all, only planned to sail in that little lake of outer space between the shell and the Pela.

I was invited to sail aboard the Indomitable on its maiden cruise to train the pilots in the use of their new helm controls, laser radar charting system, and autopilot controls to steer the ship. Vinden's crew was also along, to instruct the Cimmadarians on their new weapon systems and the general operation of the ship's many subsystems, since it was very much like the space ships we were all familiar with.

Sailing the Pela in an airship proved to be a far more pleasant experience than manhandling an awkward spaceship through the islands in a hurry and experiencing it only though a view-panel. The Indomitable cruised at a much slower speed than the Raven – under 200 kph – so life aboard was significantly slower paced, and with its flaps on its wings, steering it was far easier as well.

Though it was rather cool and drafty on the open decks sailing in this clime, there was an intimacy in experiencing everything first hand that I found quietly enjoyable and very picturesque. It was much like my zep holiday with Riv, except on a much grander scale. We'd often stop and lay off the lush green islands with their bright, fragrant flora and strange feathered fauna, to send the boats out to hunt and gather food. The decks would come alive with the cheerful chatter of my shipmates as they gathered to banter with the eager hunting/gathering parties preparing the half a dozen small cage-boats we carried before they set out for the islands. Once they'd gone, it'd grow quiet as the decks emptied and the sailors returned to their dinners, tasks, or hammocks – only the singing of the birds and the hissing of the minor dragons that flirted around the ship looking for galley scraps, and the sigh of the breeze that carried the lush scents of foliage and strange flowers aboard – kept us company. It didn't seem to be a bad life, all in all.

Over the course of the voyage I did get to see, close up, what we were eating. The returning hunters would tie up alongside the galley portal and offload the results of their hunt – the wild-grown fruits and vegetables they'd collected and the carcasses of beasts they'd shot. The beasts consisted of mostly modest-sized feathered lizards, lizards being the more land-bound type of dragons, and medium sized birds. All were something of an acquired taste, but I thought it best to set about acquiring it, if the Pela was to be my home for the next few years. Besides, anything, even lizards, are better than straight synth-food.

I spent two watches on the bridge, or wheelhouse as they called it, each round overseeing the pilots on watch – showing them how to use the newest equipment, including a 3D holographic display of the island within range of the laser radar. The Cimmadarians caught on quickly, so I didn't have much to do, as the cruise wound down. During one of those last watches, I was lounging in the back of the wide wheelhouse, idly watching the bridge crew go about their duties. The pilot stood behind the control console, the large rudder wheel in hand, while the officer of the watch paced behind her, moving from one patch of sunlight to the next that was pouring through the clearsteel windows that wrapped around the wide room that overlooked the ship. In the center of the room, the navigation officer and two sailors had gathered at the chart table, studying the 3-D holographic chart of the local islands to locate their position, and chart the next leg of the course back to Redoubt Island. The aft door to the upper deck of the amidships deckhouse and a couple of windows were angled open to admit the fresh breeze and the rhythmic thumping whirl of the propellers aft. A shadow darkened the door's patch of light, as Glen Colin wandered in from the after-deck and slipped beside me to help hold up the wheelhouse wall.

'Looks like Vinden is trying to put you out of business,' I said quietly, with a nod to the holographic chart and the watch officers. 'It seems they can find their way home without you.'

'Aye, we're mere ornaments aboard the Empress's battleships.'

'Really? I thought you and your fellow guides were so essential.'

'We are. Only the largest Imperial Navy ships have computer charts, and only because the Empress doesn't believe the battleships can be captured. The rest of the navy, and every merchant ship and island trader, for that matter, relies on guides of one sort or another. Aye, the Royal House is very protective of its Neb technology. It keeps all the advanced stuff from the Neb strictly to itself. Everyone else makes do with the current standard of development in our corner of the Pela.'

'Why? Why wouldn't they want a fully modern navy, or society, for that matter?'

'We'd not want that technology falling into the wrong hands, would we, Cap'n?'

'But I thought Cimmadar is the most advanced and powerful empire in the Pela.'

'Only as far as we know. And why do you think that is?'

'Because of your Neb technology,' I replied.

'Which no one else has. The Empire is a sphere with a vast, and very permeable border to patrol. In the outer reaches there are times when various empires overlap us without knowing it so there is always informal contacts across the various empires. Eventually every innovation spreads throughout the neighboring empires. To prevent our best technology from seeping out, the Royals keep it strictly to themselves – the royal household. Our solid core of strength at the center of the Empire, should the need arise. But not before.'

'So why hasn't Cimmadar used its technological advantage to expand and eliminate these potential rivals?'

'I think that the phrase, as far as we know, is essential in understanding Cimmadar, Cap'n. As far as we know describes the great unknown. You see, most Cimmadarians have this gut feeling that sometime, somewhere, someone discovered something no one dares mention, but which is dangerous enough to make our rulers content to keep Cimmadar a hermit empire,' he said quietly, adding, with a sly glance. 'The bigger you are, the easier you are to find. But, that's just what people whisper around closing time after a night at the tavern. And it's mostly just a feeling. No more need be said.'

'Hmm...' And not liking to name names myself, I changed the subject. 'Does Cimmadar import anything else from the Neb besides technology?'

'Most of the trade is in fact decorative or luxury items for the Iron Island.'

'The Iron Island?'

'The royal residence – an island with an iron core large enough to provides the island with enough gravity to be noticeable. But, as I said, outside contact is a fiercely guarded royal privilege, so it brings in items to furnish its palaces and to keep the extended branches of the royal houses, and merchant princes content.'

'A royal privilege, eh? So why were you smuggling for Vinden?' I asked, switching to Unity Standard. 'Couldn't he have gotten all he wanted through official channels, being Prince and all?'

'In those days his Grandmother still sat on the Cloud Throne, and his mother had not been named the heir, so he was a young, male member of one of the non-inheriting family lines, too far removed from the Royal privilege to be involved in the import business or receive much more than a trinket or two.'

'And after his mother was named heir and ascended to the throne?'

Glen Colin shrugged. 'The old Empress issued that decree on her deathbed. Vinden's mother was only on the throne for a couple months of rounds before Ossa returned and quickly displaced her.'

It would seem that Empress Ossa was, indeed, a person to be reckoned with.

'Does Vinden have any idea what Ossa has done these last 80 years to secure her throne from his various counter revolution attempts – besides hiring assassins to kill the claimants in the Neb?'

He shrugged again. 'He had an agent on a drift world where Cimmadar conducts its external trade with...'

'Kintrine?'

He gave me a sharp look. 'You did'na hear that from me....'

'No I didn't. Go on.'

'But, since I've been sleeping in a pod most of the last 80 years, I really couldn't say. Vinden doesn't tell me – or anyone – much. But...' he paused, and fell silent, with a shrug.

'But, given past performance, and the fact that he's been on the run or hiding for the last 80 years, it seems unlikely,' I said, watching him.

'You did'na hear that from me, either....'

I shook my head. I was certain Grandmama passed along word of the reappearance and subsequent mysterious disappearance of Tallith Min and the Lost Star. So if Ossa still employed St Bleyth, she'd have gotten that word more than two years ago, time enough to prepare for any possible return, even if she'd done nothing in the last 80. The truth is that the Starry Shore could blow Vinden's slow, little fleet of Pela battleships to atoms in an afternoon.

'Could Ossa afford to buy a couple of well-armed drifteer tramps and bring them in?'

Glen Colin gave me a long look. 'The Empress could afford to buy the Neb-blasted Patrol.'

He'd say no more, but then, he'd said enough. Not for the first time did I wonder what I'd gotten myself into.

Admiral DarQue invited me to his office near the end of the voyage. By this time, with the help of the com link, I'd come not only to routinely speak, but to even think in Cimmadarian, and could catch and express subtle implications, which made my interview with DarQue rather interesting. Min had clearly been telling the Admiral about me. He remarked on my flexibility in following orders and listened to the explanations I offered. He did not commit himself one way or another, but didn't express disapproval, at least. I told him about the battles I'd been involved in, and though they were in a different medium than he was familiar with, they had many features in common, so we could talk shop.

Eventually we got around to the business he had summoned me to discuss – staffing the Raven when it joined the Cimmadarian Navy.

'Prince Imvoy has suggested four of his staff, Zervic, Martong, Racken, and Crain as your crew. I gather they all are experienced spaceship crews.'

My impression was that he wasn't quite happy with that, so I replied rather boldly, 'More likely experienced pirates. I may have to put up with some of his crew, but I'd rather not have to deal with those four. I'm just a mild mannered merchant ship captain, not a pirate chief.'

'Would you consider using some Cimmadarians?'

'Indeed, I would much prefer some of your people to those Prince Imvoy suggested – if they were volunteers. I'm used to working with people who are happy to be on board and willing to perform their duties. I'd be delighted to train your people in the various operations of the Raven. It is a very automated ship, so that I don't think it would take all that much time to get a Cimmadarian crew up and running. Indeed, since the Raven is to be a part of your force, I'd think you'd want a little more, shall we say, reliable, crew on board. And if Prince Invoy wants some of his own people on board, I think we could find some better ones than the ones he's suggested.'

'Who would you suggest?'

'In space, three people can run the Raven. If I had two of Prince Imvoy's people – Ben Ton and Vikei seem to be the best of that bunch – we'd have enough experienced people on board to train four or five of your crew. Say an officer and four crew members. There are three cabins that can be used for sleeping quarters in the crew section, and a workshop in the engine room can used as a fourth one. Depending on how your crews bunk, male and female, a crew of up to eight would be comfortable, perhaps a dozen at most. So if you can find four of your crew and an officer, to start with, I'd think that ideal.'

'Only eight?' The Raven was twice the size of his flagship, which had a crew of a more than a hundred.

'The Empress, ran the Raven with only three others for many years. It is the living quarters which limits crew size. We arrived with seventeen on board and we were pretty packed in. I don't think the ship could comfortably accommodate more than ten or so. We could rotate them in and out if you'd like more of them trained.'

He nodded. 'I'll make it an officer and four, ah, volunteers. Ben Ton and Vikei, you say?'

'Aye. I know Ben is a former pirate, but I think former is the operative word. I'm far from sure about the rest of that lot.'

'Alright, Captain, I'll see if I can find some volunteers for you.'

07

The Rift Raven had returned, and was anchored across the cavern entrance, by the time the Indomitable returned from its shakedown cruise. They were in the process of carefully maneuvering the Triumphant into the grotto when we hove into view. We tied up the Indomitable alongside the island against half a dozen 30-meter-long spars secured by cables to keep its wings and propellers clear of the island. One of the spars had a metal walkway with rope handrails attached for use as the gangplank.

Once the ship was secured, I hurried down the gangplank, and along the path to the harbor entrance, where, using one of the Raven's anchoring cables, hauled myself, hand over hand, to the Raven to greet my shipmates. All of them, as it turned out.

'You let everyone come along?' I asked Molaye, trying, and no doubt failing, to hide my alarm. 'And left the ship in charge of Botts or rather Botts II?'

'It said not to worry, it could look after the ship,' she replied, unperturbed. 'Nothing seems likely to happen out there, and Botts assured me it could handle anything that might happen.'

'Botts, yes, of course, but our legal AI Botts II?'

'We came to an understanding. Seeing that you're staying on and I'll likely be the Starry Shore's next captain,' she said with a significant look. 'I gather it has not gone all that far off and it's leaving small radio relay links in its wake, which tie into our laser trail to the ship so it can reach the ship via radio, and if necessary, take control of Botts II.'

'Ah, yes. Well, if Botts said it was safe...'

'I'm sure it is. We probably could've simply abandoned the ship without Botts. But with Botts overseeing it, we certainly didn't need anyone aboard. Plus, everyone wanted to come and have a chance to say goodbye, so I didn't feel like choosing.'

'Right. I agree. I'm sure Botts would've talked me into it as well,' I admitted, adding, 'But pass the word for everyone to keep a low profile. I doubt anyone will notice we're all here, but I'd rather not have to admit to Min or Vinden that we left the ship in the charge of a gentleman's bot.'

'Don't worry, Captain, I have enough problem keeping track of them myself. I think Riv, Sar and a few broad-feathered fellows have built themselves a still somewhere. They're rarely seen when not on watch...'

'A still?'

'Well, you know – engineers. The prospect of a new type of exotic alcoholic beverage made from Pela ingredients is simply an allure they can't resist, no matter how awful it'll turn out.'

'All of which is against regulations, I presume...'

'Not against ours. It's their free time,' she replied, brightly. 'Of course if you want to report it as a member of the Cimmadarian navy, that's your choice.'

'I haven't see a thing, Plus, I haven't been sworn in yet.'

### Chapter 75 The Last Ghost

01

Molaye was directing a mixed gang of Starry Shore and Cimmadarians who were carefully guiding the second container held in a cat's cradle of lines towards the cavern's mouth, while I stood on the upper hull of the Raven, in the pale light of the Tenth Star, hands in my jacket's pockets, calmly watching the proceedings – the very apogee of human development – a tramp spaceship's captain. All I needed to do was stand there, my magnetic soled boots firmly anchored to the ship and things got done – under the energetic directions and lash of Molaye's glib tongue – a shining example of a first mate attending to the first mate's job, i.e. seeing that the captain's slightest whims are carried out, promptly.

We'd only one more container to be off-loaded before the Starry Shore's crew could be dispensed with and sent back to the ship in the longboat they'd brought along, leaving me alone for the first time in a quarter of a century. I'd no regrets, largely because I couldn't see any other course that met my obligations. That doesn't mean I wasn't feeling sad and uncertain. I liked certainty – I'm pretty Unity Standard – and the future was every bit as iffy as it had been when we sailed from Calissant bound for the drifts. Look how that turned out. Plus, there was a shadow in the back of my awareness telling me that my luck wouldn't last forever. That, however, may have been the suppressed realization that this venture had several fatal flaws in its planning and was doomed from the onset.

As the box entered the shadows of the cavern on its slow, carefully choreographed journey to the interior quay, Molaye, standing on its top, waved to me before turning to the task of piloting it through the cavern. I returned her wave and considered what needed doing next.

We were still anchored across the mouth of the cavern, held off the rocks of Redoubt Island by two spars, bow and stern. The Indomitable was tied up a bit further down the island's shore and beyond her, the old Guardian rode in a web of spars and lines, still undergoing its modest modernization. The auxiliary ships floated in a row beyond the warships. The air around me was alive with its usual suspects, calling, screeching, and humming. Turning, I looked outward to the distant green and hazy blue islands dotting the 360-degree sky. One of the scout boats, acting as a guard ship, lazily orbited Redoubt island, a kilometer or two off. It was all very peaceful, and now familiar as well. But having seen the box offloaded, I was at loose ends, and restless.

One of the officers from the flagship hauled himself on board. 'The Admiral would like a word with you, sir, at your convenience,' he said as he reached me.

'Right. I'll be right over,' I replied, as he gave me a salute and started briskly back down the hull to return to the flagship.

'I guess I'm wanted aboard the Indomitable,' I said to Riv, who had been watching the proceedings with me with the placid superiority of a chief engineer. 'I shouldn't be gone long.'

'Take you're time, Skipper. I'll look after everything,' he said placidly, with a wave of his arms to encompass the total lack of anything going on.

'Right. Carry on Chief.'

I walked to the Raven's stern and down the hull to the anchor cable running alongside the spar and used it to reach the island's shore near the end of the cavern's ledge. I walked along the path using my newly acquired skill with the toe-claws and up the flag ship's metal planked gangplank to the gate in the grating of the forward well deck of the Indomitable. I found Min, Vinden, and DarQue, attended by half a dozen officers, gathered around a table set up on the far side of the deck near the mid-ship deck-house – making still more plans, no doubt. It'd be more accurate to say I found the Empress, Prince Imvoy, and Admiral DarQue with their aides, since that would better reflect their current status and attitude. The equality of the Unity, and the freemasonry of the drifts was fast fading. We were dealing with royalty now, and the days when I could've just walked over and joined them had slipped astern. Sub-captain Trin was standing along the railing next to the gangplank, so I joined her.

'Hello Sub-captain,' I said as I settled against the railing next to her.

'Greetings, Captain,' Trin said with a brief nod of greetings.

'Here on business?'

'The Admiral has summoned me,' she said grimly.

'Me too. No doubt you're here for a promotion. Time to staff the new fleet.'

'I shall find out, when summoned.'

'I'm in no great hurry, so take the first opportunity, Trin.'

'I'm in no hurry, either,' she replied looking grim and in no mood to chat, so I let her be. Instead, I turned and watched the big sentry serpent hunt in and out of the vines along the edge of the island.

'What do you want now, Litang?' Min called out some time later.

I turned. Min was watching me from the group across the deck. I took her exasperation to be sarcastic, since I hadn't done anything.

'I believe that the Admiral summoned me,' I replied, crossing the deck to the gathered dignitaries.

'Ah, Captain Litang,' said DarQue with a nod. 'I've just summoned sub-captain Trin to ask if she'd like to volunteer to serve aboard your ship, assuming that suits you, of course.'

'I'd be delighted to have Sub-captain Trin as my first mate. I've seen her in action, so I know she's a very cool and competent officer. If she's willing, of course.' I wasn't so sure about that part.

'Please join us, Sub-captain,' commanded DarQue in a louder voice. And when she joined us, he added, 'Captain Litang and I have discussed manning the Raven with a detachment of Cimmadarian sailors and I was wondering if you'd consider serving aboard the Raven – as a volunteer,' this with a nod and a smile to me. 'If so, could you collect a volunteer crew, of what was it – four additional members, Captain?'

'Yes sir. Four.'

'Of four reliable sailors, Sub-captain.'

'I'd be honored and happy to serve aboard the Raven, sir,' she replied, neither noticeably honored or happy, but not visibly reluctant. Not that DarQue had given her a choice. 'Thank you for the opportunity, sir.'

'Right. Attend to selecting your crew, sub-captain, and report aboard the Raven in...?'

'At her convenience, sir.' And turning to her added, 'I am serious, Trin, about having a crew who wants to serve on board. I think that acquiring a working knowledge of a spaceship would be a good career move. I intend to make spaceers of everyone who is willing to learn.'

'Only the Dar go outside,' said DarQue. 'For obvious reasons.'

'Ah, yes. Still, there's space inside the shell-reef as well, and the Pela to explore, so broad-feathered or fine-feathered, I'll make spaceers out of them all.'

'Right. Cim or Dar, volunteers, Sub-captain,' replied the Admiral, and dismissed us with a nod.

Trin saluted and I managed to snap off an only slightly ironic one as well – I was going to have to practice that – and turned for the gangplank.

We'd crossed half the deck when a very eccentrically dressed character stepped onto the deck from the head of the gangplank. The sailor was wearing a standard issued Cimmadar Navy green shirt under a reddish-brown lizard-leather jacket and sported a brightly colored feather-scarf at the neck, along with black spaceer trousers tucked into tall spaceer boots, and a spaceer cap worn low over the eyes and with a long dragon feather stuck in its side. Cimmadarians wear their uniforms rather casually, a necessity, given their great variety of work – from hunting expeditions to working deep in the bowels of the ships – but even so, this one stood out, not only in dress, but in attitude. And with that, I realized, in an icy flash of insight, that I was seeing not a sailor, but a ghost.

What happened next took no more than two or three seconds, but those seconds seemed glacial. I'd first seen this flamboyantly dressed ghost a decade ago, as a slim black silhouette in the fog of a Calissant night. We both had stopped, and stood stock still for that second or two, adrift in the rushing jumble of emotions this particular ghost evoked. She may have smiled when she recognized me through my sinister whiskers, though I doubt that smile reached her lips. Strangely enough, I don't remember feeling fear.

We both reached for our weapons – my left hand reaching for my sissy in my jacket pocket, rather than the darter on my right hip, while she drew a darter from the holster under her jacket with a smooth, seemingly unhurried, action and aimed it with an outstretched arm for a spot between my eyes. I caught the flash of its drive beam as it crossed my eyes.

'Look out Min!' I managed to exclaim as I loosened a desperate volley of darts in the general direction of the ghost.

Simultaneously, a brilliant flash of blinding blue light behind me brightly illuminated the deck even in the sunlight. A blast of heat washed over me as the powerful plasma dart discharged. I felt pinpoints of pain on the back of my neck and head as the tiny molten droplets of gold sprayed across the deck.

I staggered, straightened up, and saw my ghost was twisting about on the one leg attached to the deck. I fired again, but this time missed. But it didn't matter. I'd hit her the first time.

'Are you all right?' I asked Trin beside me

She nodded grimly, her side arm in hand. 'I'm unhurt.'

I glanced back to see Min brushing off DarQue's attempts to hustle her to safety and a pale Vinden, darter in hand, stalking angrily towards us, along with all the other officers on the deck. The smoldering embers of my cap floated in the idle air currents above us.

'A Neb-blasted traitor!' Vinden roared, his face twisted in outraged anger. 'Can we trust no one, DarQue?' he snarled, and added, as he came alongside me, 'Seems you got him, though,' and returned his darter to his shoulder holster.

'Be careful – she could be feinting being hit,' I said, knowing she'd been well out of my range so that if I had, indeed, hit her, it could only have been the result of fantastic luck.

'You got him. He's let go of his darter,' he said, pointing to the darter floating in the space between us. He did, however, pause.

I stepped forward and snatched the darter out of the air and pocketed it. I turned to the still figure of Naylea Cin, now floating face down in the shock-silenced well deck with my mind racing. I absently lifted her upright, planting her free leg so that she stood upright, swaying slightly, unconscious, or feinting unconsciousness. I recalled D'Lay mentioning that stealths often had capacitors implanted in their body to absorb some of the energy of a plasma dart to nullify its effects – so I put my sissy to her hand and gave her another dart to be certain. I wasn't going to take any chances. Still, I looked on her calm face and felt a dart of my own – mixture of emotions, one of which, strangely enough, was sadness. She'd failed, yet again. Because of me. Yet again. So now, that black mark that this mission would've erased, would be hers forever.

'Good shooting, Litang,' said Min as she walked towards us, ignoring DarQue's obvious concern, and quiet, urgent objections. 'You've improved over the years.'

I turned to her. 'You shouldn't be here. This is a St Bleyth assassin. I don't know how long she'll be out but I'm sure she'd be deadly even unarmed. Why not return to your quarters while we deal with this?' Not that I expected her to do anything of the sort. Simply a matter of form.

She gave me a contemptuous look.

'You're the Empress now,' I replied. 'You need to act responsibly.'

Vinden stepped between us before Min could reply and got into my face instead. 'An agent of St Bleyth? How do you know that? And how did she get here?' He demanded, adding, 'And do you mean you merely stunned her, Litang?'

'Of course, that's all I can load in my sissy.'

'What a Neb-blasted fool. Well, I'll finish the job,' he snapped, reaching for the darter he had just holstered.

I reached out and grabbed his wrist. 'She's my prisoner, Vinden. I'll deal with her.'

'The Neb you will, Litang. She's an assassin who tried to kill the Empress and me. I'll serve her own medicine. She'll be a lot less deadly, dead,' he snapped, and attempted to tear my hand off his right wrist free so he could draw his darter.

'No. We're not summarily executing helpless prisoners, are we, Min?' I said, glancing to Min as we struggled, adding urgently, 'That's no way to begin a new regime.'

But before she could answer, Vinden managed to reach and wrench his darter free, though I still had a grip on his wrist.

That wouldn't do. I acted instinctively. I put the sissy I was still holding against his hand on my wrist and gave him a dart. He jerked as it discharged and then relaxed. I calmly grabbed his darter and pocketed it as well.

'Did you just dart Uncle Hawk?' said Min, her eyes wide.

'Sorry, he made it necessary. He'll be fine in a couple of hours. Just a little headache. Trust me, I know,' I replied grimly, slipping my sissy back into my pocket as it slowly dawned on me what I'd done. 'We're not killing prisoners out of hand. We can't have that.'

'We're not? Are you out of your mind Litang?' she asked. Perhaps she actually thought I was.

And perhaps I was, a little, but I denied it, 'Not at all.' And paused to collect my thoughts. 'I'd hardly think you'd want to start your campaign to take back the Cloud Throne from a ruthless tyrant by establishing the precedent of killing helpless prisoners. Not good policy. You're going to have to count on gathering followers from your aunt's navy as you go. How eager will they be to switch sides if they know you shoot prisoners? You need to establish a clear difference between you and your aunt. You need to be the better Empress. Killing helpless prisoners isn't good karma and you'll need all the good karma you can acquire if you're to succeed.'

'But you just darted Uncle Hawk – Prince Imvoy.'

'He didn't give me a choice. I've merely stunned him. And only to prevent him from doing your cause great harm. Plus, I couldn't take the chance that there'd be lethal darts accidentally flying about if we continued to struggle.'

She stared at me for a moment and, perhaps, knowing me too well, said. 'What's she to you, Litang?'

'She saved my life.'

'You said she was our assassin.'

'She is. She's the one who tried to kill us on Calissant and she tried again to kill me on Lontria to use my death to get to you. Believe me, I wasn't imagining the threat when I had Vyn and Ten bring you up to the ship.'

'And yet, I thought you said she saved your life.'

I began, slowly. 'You see, we crossed orbits once more, on Despar, after you had sailed. She had followed us there to complete her mission. As it happened, she rescued me from a pack of Legion of the New Order thugs who had me cornered and seemed intent on beating me to death.'

'Why in the Neb would she do that?'

'Well, I gather, for several reasons. She again planned to use me to get to you and I guess she wanted to kill me herself. Slowly. Seems she blamed me for her failures and wanted to make me pay for the damage I did to her career. The Neb-blasted thing is that she shepherded me through several Legion ambushes in a chase over one of the viaducts from Sanjoor to the port. I'm pretty sure she's saved my life more times than she's tried to take it. And, well, I'd rather be on the right side of the ledger. It's a karma thing.'

'It's more than that,' she said, watching me closely.

I'd just said all I knew for certain. Anything beyond that, if there was anything beyond that, wasn't clear enough to articulate. 'I owe her my life. I think that matters. But what matters to both of us is the principle of the thing. We both grew up in the Unity, the finest expression of civilization humans have ever known. I'm not prepared to abandon that civilization in the name of ruthless efficiency or for some drifteer mania for revenge. We're both civilized people. Prisoners are prisoners. That's a matter of principle. It's who we are.' And with that, I realized, with gut churning dismay, that I'd put myself in a position that I could not, and would not, retreat from. Like those damned fools, D'Lay and Nun, this seemed like an ethical principle I couldn't turn a blind eye to. She hadn't killed me when she should've, and could've, and I wouldn't stand by and let them kill her.

'Well, she almost killed me. I claim a share in determining her fate,' replied Min, and turning to DarQue beside her, demanded, 'What's the custom, what's our policy with prisoners?'

'We don't take pirates, slavers or raiders prisoners,' he said simply.

'And assassins?' asked Min, giving me a quick, dark, challenging glance.

'I would think assassins, like pirates, slavers and raiders operate outside of the commonly accepted rules of warfare, and need not be taken prisoner,' he said simply.

However, my mind was racing ahead, reviewing the customs of Cimmadar, as recorded on my com link.

'Right,' snapped Min, turning back to me, 'You've no local customs to protect your assassin. I see no reason why we shouldn't apply local customs to this affair. Which is?'

'She can be executed out of hand,' said DarQue. 'If you choose to do so.'

'And as for defying and darting Uncle Hawk, Prince Imvoy?' she asked just to make me squirm. I hope.

'Who,' I interjected, hastily, 'Has no operational authority. He's a political adviser. Not in the chain of command. He was overstepping his authority so I didn't have to take orders from him. And I darted him for your safety.'

She gave me a hard look, but shrugged, 'We'll deal with that issue later. But since, it seems that executing an assassin is within accepted custom, I see no reason why that can't be done – karma or no. We're not in the Unity anymore.'

'I beg to differ...' I said, as I prepared my defense.

'I'm not going to stand here and argue. We're not in the Unity, and I believe most local customs should be followed...'

'I agree, to a point. However, according to local customs, I don't believe you have any say in the matter.'

'Litang,' she began, growing even more angry, 'If you're about to defy me yet again...'

'Sorry. But, you see, I was the one she shot at, not you, or Vinden. Since I was her obvious target, that makes this my affair – my personal affair. It wasn't part of some a military action or even a political affair, at least as far as we know. So I claim my personal right – according to local custom, mind you – to deal with my would-be assassin as I choose. Am I correct in my interpretation of Cimmadar custom, Admiral?' I added looking to DarQue.

'Since you seem to have been the immediate target, and since you haven't been sworn into the Empress's Navy, the assassination was not directed against naval personnel... So it could be interpreted as a civilian and personal matter, in which case, Captain Litang has the right to redress the wrong as he sees fit. Still as the Empress...'

'Right,' I snapped, eager to end this discussion before royal privilege could be invoked. 'This incident is my private affair. I'm very sorry it occurred in such a public manner. Now, we need to act before she comes around. I'll take charge of my prisoner. I'll confine her to a sleeper-pod on board the Raven until I can send her safely off to the ship.'

'And then?' Min demanded. 'What do you intend to do with our would-be assassin?'

I shrugged. 'I don't know. Perhaps I'll have Molaye turn her over to the Patrol. A mind probe will earn her life in Felon's Riff. Or perhaps I'll just have her sent far away. She'll never find us again. And, well, when all is said and done, she didn't assassinate us, did she? I'd think living with that failure, and the contempt of her Order might be an even harsher sentence than death.'

Min just stared at me for a moment, 'We'll deal with this later. In private.' Turning to the ring of sailors who'd gathered around us, she ordered, 'Please see Prince Imvoy to his stateroom.' And with a curt nod to DarQue, 'Admiral,' she spun and made her way to the doorway in the deck house and disappeared into its dark interior.

DarQue gave me a long, thoughtful look, but said nothing, beyond ordering two sailors to take charge of Uncle Hawk floating peacefully beside me and glaring around the deck, sending the rest of the sailors who had gathered around and in the balconies overlooking the deck, scurrying back to their duties. We'd been speaking in Cimmadar – that being the way we're thinking these days – so everyone knew what just happened. Who knows what they thought?

I turned back to Cin, still floating quietly, anchored by her boots, and considered my next move.

Trin still stood next to me, watching me with curious eyes. She was my first mate now, so I might as well put her to work.

'Ah, Trin. Perhaps you can find me something I might use to secure the hands and feet of my prisoner?'

She nodded and went off, leaving me to stare at my old would-be-assassin – and comrade in arms – wondering at the strange mix of emotions that seeing her now, long after I thought her dead on some (other) suicide mission, had churned up in my mind.

Trin returned promptly with a length of cord which I used to bind Cin's hands and lash her legs together before breaking her free of the deck and tossing her over my shoulder.

'Can I help, Captain?' Trin asked.

'Thank you, I'm fine,' I said, adding, 'I'm sorry to have made such a fool of myself. Please feel free to reconsider your decision to sail aboard the Raven.'

We started down the long gangplank

'She means something to you,' she said from behind me, echoing Min. I was familiar enough with Cimmadarian speech to know it wasn't a question. Which meant I didn't have to answer it. Still...

'She didn't miss, Trin,' I said, and glancing back, added, 'Many round-cycles ago, she was ordered by her superiors to kill me. She could've easily hit me at point blank range, but didn't. How could I, in turn, stand by and see her killed out of hand?'

'How do you know it was deliberate? And why, if she did?'

I laughed grimly. 'The one time she did, unintentionally miss me, was when her arm was bumped just as she fired, and she hit the badge on my cap,' I said, pointing to my now bare head and briefly outlined the incident until we reached the end of the gangplank.

'So you believe she missed deliberately.'

'Hitting my cap's badge a second time couldn't be a coincidence.'

'Why? Why did she not kill you?'

I shrugged. 'I don't know. She likely expected me to miss. She knows my effective range is a meter, or less. And well, we were both between her and her likely targets, she may've figured to stun everyone with the plasma air blast to give her an extra few seconds to get a clear line on her targets before anyone reacted. This was a suicide mission after all, so whatever happened afterward, wouldn't have mattered. Still, she could've killed me, but didn't, so I can't stand by and let her be killed. And even that's neither dragon nor snake, as you'd say. You don't kill helpless prisoners out of hand. That's not war, that's murder.'

She said nothing more.

'You don't fear Prince Imvoy?' she asked as we walked along the path for the Raven.

I glanced at Trin. A person of few words, but very direct. Given our very different lives and outlooks, that was probably for the best.

I shrugged, 'There was ill blood between us already. His men darted me and he kept me prisoner once and he threatened to pirate the Empress's ship when I simply wouldn't turn it over to him. I'm sure he doesn't like me, and I neither like, nor trust him, so this changes nothing.'

'He can challenge you to a duel.'

'I've fought one, and won.'

'So you don't fear a duel?'

'The custom here is like it is everywhere else. If he challenges me, I'll have my choice of weapons, so no, I don't. But he won't. It'd be beneath his dignity. And too iffy.'

'Yes,' she said quietly, with a sidelong glance. 'Royalty has its privileges. After this, no one would wonder if you just disappeared.'

'I'll just have to be careful and keep in company until we sail. We'll have two of his men on board, but I don't think they'll murder for him. I spared Ben's life once, for what it's worth. And Vikei was the next best of the litter. We'll just have to watch them carefully. And once the fleet sails, we should be able to steer well clear of Prince Imvoy.'

'And you don't fear me?' she asked. 'That I might act to avenge the honor of Prince Imvoy?'

I glanced at her. She was impossible to read, but I answered truthfully, 'No. You're my first mate. Shall we cross over to our ship?'

It was a bit awkward hauling the inert body of Cin along as we pulled ourselves across to the Raven using one of the mooring lines.

Riv, watching us come on board, with a big grin, called out, 'Gone native already, Skipper? My, and with two wives – one of each kind – as well.' Fortunately, in Unity Standard.

I gave him a dark look. Wasted, of course. 'This is Sub-captain Trin, the new first mate of the Raven,' I said in Cimmadarian, introducing her. 'And this is Riv D'Van, chief engineer of the Starry Shore. Don't pay him any mind. He's a mere tourist.'

He grinned and bowed, 'A pleasure to meet you, Sub-captain Trin. Welcome aboard the Raven.'

She gave him a measuring look and nodded, 'Thank you, Chief.'

'And who's your other, more reluctant recruit, Skipper?' he asked as I hoisted Cin to my shoulder again.

'Naylea Cin. The St Bleyth stealth.'

'What in the Black Neb is she doing here? And what are you doing with her?'

'I'd imagine she was sent to kill Vinden and Min to toss a spanner in the counter-revolution,' I replied. 'I'm guessing she stowed away on the Triumphant on Ravin. As luck had it, I was in position to thwart her assassination attempt aboard the flagship and took her prisoner. I'll send her back to the Nebula in a sleeper-pod. Follow me, and if you have any more questions, you can ask them while we get her in a pod and clear a bit of the junk out of the engine room storage compartment.'

'You thwarted another assassination attempt?' he said, shaking his head as he fell in beside me. 'This I have to hear. Spin your yarn, skipper. '

I spun my yarn as Riv and Dici dug out a sleeper-pod from storage and cleared a space in the small storage compartment to store it.

'You think she was just planning to walk up to Min and Vinden and dart them?' Dici asked.

'Why not? It would've worked if I hadn't been there and recognized her. This was a suicide mission so the consequences afterward were of no great concern to her.'

'Why would she agree to a suicide mission in the first place?' he asked.

'Perhaps to uphold her honor,' I replied. The tentativeness was a lie.

'Strikes me as a very iffy plan, if you could call it a plan at all,' said Riv.

'Not at all,' I replied, and turning to Trin, 'Did she strike you as – a Dar member of your navy or an outsider?'

'An outsider,' she replied without hesitation. 'Not one of our company.'

'Riv, Dici?'

Riv looked at her and grinned. 'Aye, I see your point.'

Dici said, 'I don't.'

'Look at how she's dressed – an eclectic mixture of spaceer and Pela clothing – which makes it hard to place her with a glance. Both groups, the spaceers and sailors are small enough to recognize a stranger disguised as one of them. But neither pays enough attention to who's in the other group to notice someone out of place. Dressed as she is, both sides would, at least on a casual glance, simply place her in the other group. Assuming she steered clear of people as much as possible she could probably move about pretty freely. Neb, she reached the flagship without a problem and could've likely gone searching throughout the ship for her targets, if they hadn't been on the deck when she arrived There's little enough security here.'

'The loyalty of those of us who remain have been tested countless times,' asserted Trin. 'But no one expected an enemy from the outside.'

'I must admit, neither did I. She must've gained access to the Triumphant when it was still on Ravin and found a nook to hide in for the passage in a cocoon-style sleeper-pod which was programmed to revived her once there was a breathable atmosphere. I'm guessing, but I can't think of any other way... Right. Let's get her stowed away in that sleeper-pod before she revives.'

'What are you planning to do with her?' asked Riv.

'I'm thinking I send her as a boxed tourist to some Apier world.'

'Not the Guard?'

'I owe her my life, Riv. She gets hers, whether she wants it or not.'

'She may have more weapons, Captain. Have you searched her?' said Trin as I lifted her into the pod.

'Probably does...' But I found myself reluctant to search her and in a hurry to get her in stasis.

'Do you want me to search her?' ask Trin.

'Thanks. I'm sure she's still armed, but once in stasis, it won't matter. We'll take that into account if and when we revive her. I think the wisest course now is just to get her into stasis as quickly as possible before she comes to. These stealths have ways of minimizing the effects of our weapons. No point taking chances.'

She gave me an unreadable look, but said nothing more.

I activated the suspended animation unit and closed the pod's lid. I locked the compartment door with my captain-only security code and then made certain that all my (soon-to-be former) crew members were warned to steer clear of that compartment and its dangerous, if sleeping, inhabitant.

02

I retreated to the lower hull of the Raven and in the mellow sunlight and cool, fragrant breeze, I tried to order my thoughts – the ones I'd been pushing away. Without much success. When Molaye returned from wrangling the box to the quay, I filled her in on the recent events – she just watched me silently with a faint smile, knowing better to say out loud what she was doubtlessly thinking. I outlined my plan to send Cin's sleeper-pod somewhere far away, once the ship returned to the known Nebula. She assured me that'd be no problem, with a sly smirk.

Molaye had just drifted off to get a bite to eat, with one last unspoken sarcastic remark in her glance, when Tenry swung by and with a nod, we retired to the bow of the ship to sit and have a quiet talk.

'What's this I hear about you darting Vinden to save the life of Talley's would-be-assassin? Have you taken leave of your senses, Skipper?' he asked, but with a grin.

'Oh, did anyone happen to mention that I saved their lives as well?'

His grin widened, 'I rather think that was a given. Trust me, I know – your proper place is in the line of fire.'

'They seem to assume I was just hanging around to stand in that line. However, I'll have you know, that she shot at me and failed, as she has done on a few other occasions. That makes her my assassin, not theirs, and since I darted her she's my prisoner as well.'

He gave me a look between wonder and pity. 'And darting Prince Imvoy? How are you lifting that?'

'He overstepped his authority and gave me no option. I wasn't about to wrestle for his darter and risk darts flying about by accident with Min and Admiral DarQue close at hand.'

He sighed, 'Well, I see you've got your story well in hand, for all the good it'll do you.'

'It's the truth, for what it's worth.'

We sat in silence for a while and watched the young sentry serpents playing in the cavern entrance, darting and twisting about like animate arrows, apparently trying to nip each others tail.

'I don't think Talley's very happy with you, at the moment,' he said, at last. No doubt the official reason for his visit.

'Can't say I blame her, Ten. But she'll come around. She always does. I'm sure she'll also come around to seeing that we need to be more than drift pirates if we're to rally the people and unseat an empress who's held the throne for a century. Especially with someone, who, as you well know, has no right to it at all. We need to offer someone better. And killing a prisoner out of hand, a helpless one at that, is not the way to begin such a venture. I'm sure Min will come to see that.'

'You think so? You don't think she'll wonder why you seemed so adamant in your defense of a girl who tried to kill her?'

'She can wonder all she wants. We've settled that. She can't have it both ways.' Which may've been saying too much, but what the Neb. Still, I added, 'I hardly know Cin, and what I do, scares me. Don't read anything more into it than that in the past she saved my life, and she could've killed me on the flagship. She didn't miss. Hitting my cap's badge twice is beyond chance...'

'Why?'

'Who knows? Probably some tactical reason to get a clear line of fire or something, but the fact is, I would be dead several times over, but for her actions. What type of person do you think I am if I'd let Vinden – Vinden of all people – kill her out of hand? What sort of karma would that earn me?' I added growing angry. 'You're Patrol. Tell me I did something wrong.'

He shrugged. 'I can't do that. Vyn and I agree that killing her would've been ill advised. I'll leave you to do the math on the karma angle.'

'Karma earns you luck.'

'Well, you're going to need it.'

'Think so?'

'Given the need for unity within the movement, darting the Prince isn't lifting...'

'Given the need for a clear chain of command – which Vinden isn't in...'

'Given the idiocy of darting a prince of the realm... Not that I don't personally approve, Skipper, but still, you may've pushed your luck, or karma, too far this time. I think you're underestimating the importance of Vinden in the scheme of things. He was, and still is, the leader of the opposition. Though the crown passes on the female side, the male siblings can be very powerful. Vinden, Prince Imvoy, is the closest thing they have to the old order they're fighting to restore, Talley notwithstanding. She may've officially cut him out of the chain of command, but with his title and stature he can do anything he pleases, and there's not much Talley can do about it. You've picked a powerful enemy in Vinden.'

I didn't say anything for a while, 'I didn't have a choice, Ten. Well, at least everyone knows what they're getting in me.'

'True,' he said, and added with a sigh, 'But I'm far from convinced that was wise either. Still, the deed's done. So tell me, Wil, what's the story of you and this assassin?'

I told him my tale – I figured it'd reach Min via Vynnia and hopefully make it clear that I was acting honorably.

After Tenry pushed off, I took time to try to honestly examine my motives. I'd no romantic illusions about Cin. All I needed to do was recall her icy grey eyes and the cold, cruel delight she took in administering pain to kill that notion. Neb, she'd been so cold and ruthless, that even the other members of her class and Order had shied away from her in the end. And yet, that didn't seem to rule out some sort of well, comradeship when faced with danger. True, it hadn't stopped me from betraying her on Despar – but I didn't have a choice.

And then, there's that unguarded openness in her eyes, the easy sharing of her thoughts, as chilling as they sometimes were, that, well, gave the illusion of friendship. I don't know if she's aware of what she was sharing or not, but, it was such a marked contrast with Min that it made quite an impression on me, and I could not help but want to reciprocate at some level.

And finally, the fact that I was still alive was entirely due to her – both her unintended failures and her deliberate actions to keep me alive. And as for that jumble of emotions which raced through my mind when I first saw her, after believing her dead all these years including that dart of joy when I recognized her, well, I pushed them into a black hole at the back of my mind, lest they make a liar of me.

I was going to hear more from Min, and perhaps DarQue as well. But I'd been there before and I was, after all, acting in a very Unity Standard manner, which I didn't feel I needed to apologize for. They already knew what they were getting. I felt that they'd do nothing too drastic.

I was ready to grab a bite to eat and a nap when Glen Colin came slouching around the hull to stand beside me looking down.

'What's lifting, Chief?'

'I hear you darted my boss, Cap'n. Didn't think you Unity Standard chaps held grudges,' he said with a sly grin.

'I've been corrupted. Just what you'd expect from hanging around with whiskey soaked engineers and guides.'

'A low blow. I've never darted the boss, even if he can be a right bastard.'

'Then you've come to thank me, I assume.'

He grinned. 'Wouldn't want to say that. I've come to suggest that you don't walk into dark deserted alleys alone with the boss. He's a mite sore.'

'So his head hurts, does it?'

'More than his head. His pride. And he doesn't suffer contrary fools.'

I shrugged. 'I doubt I changed his attitude about me very much.'

'True. But you may've moved up on the list, a'wee bit. Likely to the top.'

'Is this my official warning?'

He shook his head. 'The boss doesn't bother with warnings,' and added, with a measuring look, 'Don't know what game you're playing, Cap'n, but I like'ya, so when I say be very, very canny in what you do, you know it's not a threat, but a friendly hint.'

'Aye, and thank you. I'll just suggest, in return, that my crew's been in the drifts long enough to know who'd be behind any mishap I might suffer, and I've a feeling, they'd do something about it.' I knew Molaye would.

'Aye,' he muttered giving me a measured look. 'Best just to stay out of his orbit.'

'I'm not pining for his company, Glen.'

He nodded. 'Fair orbits, Cap'n.'

No good deed goes unpunished.

Tenry appeared in the door of the small mess as I finished my meal.

'What's the word?' I asked, looking up.

He just stood, watching me, hands in his trouser pockets and slowly shook his head. 'I don't know Skipper, I've been in some hot spots with my superiors, on a number of occasions...'

'On a large number of occasions, I believe,' I corrected him.

'...On a large number of occasions, and still, I think you take the crown.'

'How so?'

'I've never darted a Prince of the Realm, but...'

'But? What's the verdict?'

'Officially, you're, reluctantly, in the clear. Tallith wasn't happy, but you live a charmed life and seem to be able to get away with anything with her. The Admiral was hard to read. I almost think he found it interesting, though you're lucky you weren't under his command yet or you'd likely be facing a firing squad. Remember he and Vinden were as thick as thieves back in the old days, but perhaps he admires foolhardiness. As for Vinden, well, I don't think I need say anything.'

'Aye, I'm watching my back.'

'Just keep out of sight. Darters shoot straight and far. I'd say you're a dead man, except Tallith made it abundantly clear to ol'Uncle Hawk that she wants you alive. I'd say that you now owe your life to her, as well – if you don't happen to have some unfortunate accident along the way.'

I looked at him grimly, and said. 'Tell her I'm sorry for all the trouble.'

'And it won't happen again?' he added.

'That depends on Vinden,' I replied.

He just sighed again, and grinned. 'I don't quite get you, Skipper. It's all safe and secure, and then you strike out and do something remarkably foolish.'

'Sometimes you get so Neb-blasted unlucky that you just have to, I guess.'

Just ask D'Lay and Nun.

03

I was napping in the longboat. I thought I'd best sleep inside the boat with its entry hatch, set to admit only crew members. No point sleeping where accidents could happen.

'Wake up, Wil,' said Molaye out of the dimness beside me.

'What's wrong?' I asked, as I came to. Something had to be.

'Your prisoner's gone.'

'Gone?' That wasn't possible. You can't break out of stasis.''

'She didn't.'

'Then how?' I demanded, reaching for my boots on the bulkhead beside me. 'Oh...'

'Right. Taken. I was making my rounds and found the storeroom's latch had been forced and the pod empty.'

As I slipped on my boots and stood, I felt a heavy coldness in my chest, as if I'd taken a full breath of dark cold space. I'd made an error. A fatal error. A carelessly fatal error. I'd lost a life through neglect.

I hadn't the breath to curse, hardly the breath to breathe, as I pulled myself through the overhead hatch to the access tube that connected the longboat to the Raven, and down the long passage to the engine room. It was the sixth watch on board, so the ship was dark and quiet. Whoever was not on shore leave was sleeping. The on leave members might be anywhere, but they knew enough to stay clear of ship during the sixth watch. We reached the storage room. The latch on the door-panel had been crudely cut out – likely with a plasma knife – from the outside. I touched the scarred area around the twisted latch – it was cold. Stepping into the dark room, the light came on to reveal the sleeper-pod open and empty, still lashed to crates, just as we'd left it. There was no sign of a struggle.

'It seems they came to take, not kill her,' said Molaye.

'Not here. Vinden...' I muttered, my guts churning with anger. It seemed so obvious now. I'd been so careless. So stupid.

'Do you know who came on board?'

'No. The airlocks are all open, people coming and going. I'd been busy seeing the last box to the quay and was making my rounds before finding a corner to nap in, when I discovered this. Whoever did it timed it well.' she replied.

I stood and stared at the empty pod, attempting to order my thoughts. They all returned to the simple fact that my careless mistake killed someone. Someone I rather cared for.

'Are you all right, Wil?' asked Molaye, a minute or two later, I suppose.

'No.' That question was simple enough to answer.

'Is there anything I can do? Turn out the crew? Organize a search party?'

I shook my head. 'Too late. And even if we could follow the trail, it'd lead to Vinden. And I've been told, in no uncertain terms, that he's too powerful to defy again. He can do as he pleases. Only the fact that he's passing Min off as the rightful Empress, whom he is, in theory, subservient to, keeps him slightly in check. And well, making a fuss over an agent of the enemy will make me suspect as well. My hands are tied.

'I failed. I was too careless and too casual and left my prisoner where she could easily be gotten at. I knew Vinden would seek some revenge, but I assumed it would be directed at me – that it would stay between the two of us. I'm not cut out for this sort of struggle. I can't play this game...'

I turned away. She said nothing. What could she say?

'I've been very lucky. We've found ourselves in some pretty Neb-damned tight spots and we've gotten out alive and uninjured. I've never had to deal with the dark side of responsibility – until now. I've leaned on luck and Botts far too much. Let this be a lesson, Molaye. Don't make the mistake I did and rely on luck. You never want to be in my shoes, especially when you didn't do everything you possibly could've done to avoid this.'

'You took precautions, Wil...'

'Obviously not enough. I clearly underestimated Vinden's dispatch, determination and cunning. He quickly found a way to strike back at me that only strengthens his position. It shows who has the power, and who doesn't.'

'Well, who's to say Vinden's behind this? If he wanted her dead, why kidnap her? A couple of darts here would've done the job,' said Molaye, just to help me cope, I suspect.

I closed my eyes. 'Perhaps he wants to interrogate her.' It wasn't the only explanation, however. This was revenge, after all, and I'm certain Vinden would extract the full measure of it. And taunt me with it, whenever he chose to.

'The other explanation is that someone else freed her. A companion agent, or agents. If one agent can stowaway, why not two? Or a dozen? They may've freed her,' said Molaye. 'Why not?'

I was pretty certain that Cin was operating alone, but that was, I admit, a guess. 'Why would a partner free her now? That would only tip us off that there's a second agent on the loose...'

'Unless it doesn't matter anymore.'

I gave Molaye a searching look.

'Mission accomplished. They're pulling their agents out...' she said quietly. She didn't believe it. I didn't believe it. Perhaps it was her way of pointing out that I couldn't have it both ways – I couldn't protect both Min and Cin.

What could I do? I needed to do something, even if it was too late.

'I'm going over to the flagship,' I said, and started back for the long passage up to the hangar.

'You're not going to do anything foolish, are you Wil?'

'Of course not. You know I'm a cautious fellow. I'm just going to report what happened, and make a mild objection. I certainly should be able to do that without raising any eyebrows...'

She gave me a look. 'Don't let your anger make you do something foolish, Wil.'

'I'm only angry with myself, Molaye.' I replied, 'I'd best get dressed and report this.'

I threw on my uniform and made my way back down to the engine room airlock and out on to the hull. The Raven was still anchored across the entry to the cavern. We had one box left on board, but that one was staying. I was told it contained small arms for our eventual recruits. The Pela was, as always, bright, lush and full of flitting, flying life, untouched by my cold, dark despair. I walked across the short stretch of hull to the stern mooring line and pulled myself across to the island.

There was a guard, now, at the end of the flagship's gangplank, but he recognized me and let me pass with a nod. The deck officer met me as I stepped onto the forward deck.

'Can I help you, Captain?' he asked.

'I'm here to see the Empress,' I replied.

'This is their rest watch, sir. I will note that you called, and inform the Admiral when he awakes.'

'Are you the officer in charge? Or is there someone above you. I need to report to someone in authority,' I said, keeping my anger in check. Barely. I was, after all, captain of the Raven, and by all rights, no one should have taken the prisoner without going through me. I'd every right to kick about not following proper procedures, at least. This was the Neb-blasted navy, after all.

'Captain LilDre is in charge.'

'Take me to him.'

'Can I ask what this is about, Captain?'

'No, you can't, Sub-captain. Just show me to Captain LilDre. Now,' I snapped, with a little of my anger leaking out.

He turned without a word and I followed him across the deck to the central deck-house and up the steep ladder to its second level, just under the grating and along the narrow gangway until we reached the center door. He knocked, and waited until he was told to enter and opened the door, to announce me. I strode through the door, not waiting for an invite.

'Captain LilDre,' I said, and turning to the duty officer, gave him a nod to dismiss him. He glanced to LilDre, and closed the door behind him.

'What can I do for you, Captain?' LilDre asked from behind a large desk.

'I'm here to report that my ship has been boarded by persons unknown. They broke into a sealed storeroom and without my consent or proper authority, kidnapped my prisoner. I assume, Captain, that the Empress's Navy does not operate like some freelance pirate band, and that things are done according to regulations. Indeed, I believe I've been supplied with a volume of just such regulations. I don't believe sneaking aboard a ship and kidnapping a prisoner is an approved operating procedure.'

He leaned back in his chair, watching me closely under his heavy lidded eyes, 'We're talking about the assassin, are we not?' he asked.

'Yes.'

He paused before answering very carefully, 'It is my understanding that the person was, according to you, outside of naval authority, and that the whole affair was a private one. Is that correct?'

'Yes. But we're not talking about that. What I am reporting, and objecting to, is my ship being boarded and my prisoner kidnapped.'

'Do you know for a fact that it was done by naval personnel? As of yet, none of Prince Imvoy's or the Empress's staff have been sworn into the Empress's Navy. So unless it was done by naval personnel, I'm pretty sure we're not dealing with a naval matter. Can you prove naval personnel were involved?'

'I don't know who was involved, but I know that...' I bit back accusing Vinden. It would do no good, and could get very iffy even if I had proof, which I didn't. Instead, I decided to use Molaye's theory to see if I could light a little fire under Captain LilDre – mostly, I'll admit, out of spite and anger.

'But?' he prompted, smugly.

'But,' I continued, putting my hands on the desk and leaning over it. 'I do know that we cannot rule out the possibility that my prisoner was freed by an associate. We've no way of knowing how many agents were sent on this mission, do we? If one can stowaway aboard Prince Imvoy's ship, so could two, six or a dozen. There's been no security to speak of here, so it's entirely possible that there's a second enemy agent in our midst. And perhaps more.'

'You don't know that...' he began.

'Of course I don't,' I snapped. 'That's my point. I do know, however, that they'd not spring the prisoner and thus, tip us off that they existed, unless their mission has been accomplished. When was the last time you saw Prince Imvoy, or the Empress?' I said, and growing ever more passionate. 'Can you guarantee that the Empress and Prince are alive as we speak? Or perhaps it's something altogether different. Who knows what signals they sent coming in from the outside. Radio waves travel great distances in space. They could've been sending signals all the way in, so that the Cimmadar navy could be bearing down on this island even as we speak...'

The door burst open behind me, sending in a shaft of light. 'Sir, the distant sentries are blowing battle stations!' exclaimed the breathless deck officer.

We stared at the duty officer, at a loss for words at his uncanny intervention. We could hear the faint sound of a trumpet blowing an energetic tune. Could Molaye have been right? A dart of fear twisted the knot in my guts even tighter than my anger had it tied.

LilDre rocketed to his feet, swung around, and opening a door in the back bulkhead leading to a steep flight of stairs to the wheelhouse, bellowed, 'What are the outpost and guard ship reporting?'

'They report sighting a large horde of talon-hawks, sir. The vanguard of the horde is approaching as we speak, sir,' replied the unseen officer from the bridge above.

'Gather your crew members and un-moor your ship,' snapped LilDre. 'Get it clear of the cavern mouth. I'll need to position my ship across it to defend the base. We've only a few minutes before the talon-hawks start arriving. They attack anything that moves, so if any of your crew can't get to your ship in the next few minutes they should take shelter in the base or on one of our ships. There's no time to waste! There'll be thousands of the beasts here shortly.'

'Right,' I said, and dashed out the open door as the ship's sirens began to wail, calling the sailors to battle stations.

LilDre followed me and bellowed 'Un-moor the ship!' as I flew down the ladder to the deck, joining a rush of sailors on the gangplank hurrying down to cast of the mooring lines along the bank of the island.

I opened my com link to all my shipmates as I ran with the pack down the narrow plank, 'We're about to come under attack by a horde of beasties called talon-hawks. I'm not exactly sure just what they are, but it's battle stations aboard the flagship. Everyone needs to return to the Raven immediately. If you can't make it within the next few minutes, take shelter in the base or one of the ships. Report in so we can account for you.

'Molaye, we need to move the Raven. The Indomitable wants to defend the entrance. See to the bow line, I'll attend the stern line.'

'Aye, Captain,' replied Molaye.

'Hey, Skipper,' said Riv over the com link as soon as I finished talking. 'Sar, a couple of Cimmadarians, and I are on the far side of the island, half an hour away from base. My Cimmadarian mates say the main horde is still a ways off, but the advanced scouts will be around shortly. They're nasty beasties, so we'll likely have to fight our way back. It may take us awhile to get to base.'

'No. Wait. Don't even try,' I replied, fighting a growing sense of dark panic. 'We'll send a boat to pick you up. Do you have someplace where you can take shelter?'

'Oh, we're in a shallow cave with some deep woods for cover. The Cimmadarians say the talon-hawks will find us eventually but we can defend ourselves for some time, so if you can get here in the next half an hour, we shouldn't be in any danger at all.'

'I'll be there in five minutes...' I said reaching the island. I dug my claws in as I raced along the path towards the cavern mouth and Raven, fifty meters away. I could see Molaye on the bow line, working to disengage the latch that secured the anchor cable around a thick vine.

As I reached the island end of the stern line, I signaled my crew, 'Who are we waiting for?'

'Just you Captain. Everyone's aboard except Lilm and Lili who are aboard the Guardian, and Riv and Sar on the far end of the island,' replied Illy.

'Right. I'm clearing this line and will be aboard directly. I'll take the Ghost for Riv and Sar,' I said as I turned to tackle the clamp that held the loop around the tree-sized vine.

'Can I help, sir?'

I looked around to see Sub-Captain Trin pulling up behind me. Well, she was my first mate now, so I suppose she felt her post was on the Raven.

'Trin. Good. We need to undo this clamp,' I said, 'It can be a bit of a struggle,' I muttered, making way for her to lend a hand. The latch and clamp were not made to release easily. We braced ourselves and pried open the clamp, releasing the looped cable.

'Thanks, Trin, now get to the ship. I'm right behind you.'

'Aye, sir,' she said, and started up the nearly freed mooring line, hand over hand. I stayed to try to clear the cable from the vine trunk it was wrapped around.

'Captain, get in here, now!' bellowed Molaye. I glanced up to see her standing on the upper hull, her pirate piece drawn and following a target above and behind me.

I looked back to see a very large, red feathered bird-like beast, not fifty meters above, just soaring over the headland of the island. Catching sight of Trin and me, it screeched in delight and make a swift sweeping motion with its wide, talon tipped wings sending it diving for us. I reached for my darter, but before I could get it clear, the talon-hawk was engulfed in a blaze of blue flame from Molaye's shots. She hit it several more times, just to make sure, and it plunged past us, trailing smoke from its smoldering feathers. I took Molaye's advice and started racing up the line hand over hand, following Trin. The Raven could easily rip the line clear, I decided.

Trin had just reached the hull, when Molaye called out again, 'Behind you Captain!'

I twisted around, reaching for my darter, only to find half a dozen gaping, crocodile jaws shooting towards me – the sentry serpents, mom and offspring – swimming towards me, their tails waving furiously. I hadn't time to react before they brushed past me. I heard Trin yell to Molaye to 'Let'em in, they're harmless!' And, as I watched, they disappeared into the darkness of the engine room airlock.

I reached the ship, and the three of us hurried across the hull for the airlock, all eyes to the skies around us.

'Thanks, Molaye. Seal the ship and move it off. You're in charge of the Raven. Trin, follow me,' I gasped, breathless, caught up in the necessity of action, which, at least, kept my black fears and forebodings at bay.

I raced through the engine room, and up the long central passageway to the boat deck where the Ghost was accessed by a short tube. I shooed Trin ahead, closing the hatch behind me and dove for the cockpit, indicating to Trin to take the other pilot's seat. I strapped myself in, and touched the access button with my id-implanted finger to bring the boat to life. I called up the full array of view-panels, that swept around the cockpit, since we'd be flying mostly on visual and with a quick check of the boat's status, said, 'We're off,' to Illy over the com link.

'You're clear, Captain,' she replied.

I gave the steering rockets a little blast to get us clear of the Raven's hangar, and fired the main engines to get under way. The Ghost is a hybrid boat designed for either atmospheric or space travel, so it had short wings and a tail with steering flaps for maneuvering in the atmosphere, making it far handier than the long boat, which could only be steered with steering rockets. I used the main rockets and the wing and tail flaps to soar up and over the Raven and Indomitable, both of which were getting under way.

'We're on our way, Riv,' I said, bringing up the com unit. 'We'll be there in two or three minutes.'

'That's good news, Skipper. We've already seen some of the beasties through the trees. However, you won't be able to reach us where we are now, on account of the fern trees. They come right up to the cliff wall and reach our cave. The best place looks to be a long clear scar at the base of the cliff, half a kilometer away or so. If you think you can find it, we'll start out now and meet you there.'

'Sub-captain Trin is on board. I'm sure she knows the island. If you can give me directions, we should find it.'

'All I can tell you is that we're on the far end of the island. There's a rocky spine that rises out of the woods. If we follow the edge of the cliff towards the base, we'll come to the open scar, a meadow clear of trees. You shouldn't have any trouble finding it.'

I translated Riv's directions for Trin.

She nodded. 'I know the spot.'

'Right. We'll meet you there.' I replied and turned the Ghost for the far end of the island.

We'd just put the Indomitable out of sight around the curve of the island when I saw a figure racing across the vine mat towards the base. And a second talon-hawk.

Talon-hawks actually look like overgrown hawks rather than just another dragon, sporting bird-like wings, a broad tail and a beak. Their bodies are broad chested and beak to tail, some four meters in length. They're clothed in a coat of feathers ranging from a rusty orange chest to their deep blood-red wings and backs. Unlike our familiar hawks, the edges of their beaks are serrated with short, sharp teeth. Their wide, almost true wings – boasting a wingspan of more than four meters – are, like most of the beasts of the Pela, equipped with two long talons at the wingtips, which the talon-hawk uses to hold its prey while it rips it apart with its powerful beak and leg talons.

The talon-hawk spied the runner at the same time we did. It must have screeched as its beak opened and the runner stopped and looked up. Driven by a lightening flash of its wings, it dove at the runner, its wings folded alongside its body and its rear legs extended forward and tucked close to its body, very much a bird of prey.

The runner drew his weapon and holding it with both hands, coolly took a second to aim, and fired several times, bathing the talon tiger in blue flame. A darter. That made him one of Vinden's crew. The smoldering carcass of the talon-hawk landed within five meters of him. He turned, and seeing the Ghost overhead, waved. I recognized him – it was Vinden himself. I left him behind.

'That was Prince Imvoy,' said Trin, looking at me with a startled expression. 'Shouldn't we take him on board?'

'No,' I said bitterly. 'I believe he had my prisoner kidnapped, and may well be coming back from murdering her. The talon-hawks are welcome to him.'

Trin gave me an unreadable look but didn't argue.

'Besides, he's only a few minutes from base, and looks to be quite competent with a darter. He's in no danger,' I added, which was, unfortunately, very likely, true.

We reached the clearing a minute later, but the vanguard of the horde was now arriving in force, I could see half a dozen in the forward facing view-panels, and there were probably just as many aft. They seemed to consider the Ghost as some sort of dragon, and fair game. Seeing it, they'd veer and attack, striking it with their talon tipped legs – only to skid or bounce off its smooth hull, their talons finding no hold. Undeterred, they'd just circle around and try again. And again. I was concerned that they might damage the steering flaps, so maneuvered the boat to evade as many attacks as possible, as we waited for Riv and the others to make their way to the clearing. Despite the ineffectiveness of their attacks and my efforts to evade them, they continued to attack, and if anything, with greater vengeance. They didn't discourage easily. If at all. And their numbers grew.

'Thanks for keeping the beasties amused,' said Riv via the com unit.

'Our pleasure. How soon can we pick you up?' I replied as I swooped and dodged over the island in a swarm of angry talon-hawks.

'We're still five minutes away. Just keep'em amused and we'll let you know. Once we're in position, if you come in low and slow enough, we'll provide enough covering fire to kill a few of them. I'm told the beasties are not particular as to who they eat, so a few dead one's will draw their attention away from you so you can land and pick us up.'

'Right, I'll try drawing them off and see if I can lose'em for the pickup. Let me know when you're in place,' I replied, as I set a course away from the island, just fast enough to keep ahead of the enraged beasts until Riv signaled.

When he did, I spun the boat around and raced back to the island, leaving the pursuing talon-hawks astern, screaming in frustration. I slowed and brought the Ghost in slowly from the far edge of the field, giving them a clear line of fire since we had already picked up half a dozen new ones. Riv and the gang quickly picked them off as I came in, so that by the time I reached their end of the clearing and swung about to present the side hatch to them, the talon-hawks I'd lead astray were streaming back and fighting each other for their share of their less fortunate mates. Trin was waiting at the hatch when I settled the boat down and opened the side hatch. Trin jumped down and covered the gang as they emerged from the underbrush to race the five meters to the hatch, one at a time – the ones in the underbrush continuing to provide covering fire against any talon-hawks that hadn't given up on the Ghost. Each of the gang carried a carboy on their back which they flung into the boat, and stood with Trin under the cover of the raised hatch firing at the few talon-hawks that continued showed interest in the Ghost. They were all standing around the hatch by the time I arrived, so I told them to get the Neb on board and quit fooling around. Cimmadarians hate talon-hawks and like nothing better than to get them fighting and killing each other, which, I gather, isn't hard in these great packs. I'm told that these large packs or hordes are uncommon, but if you're caught on an island in their path, you – and just about every other living thing – are unlikely to survive without a lot of steel between you and them.

So, with the bloody slaughter taking place overhead, they climbed on board, in roaring good spirits too – leaving no doubt what was in the carboys they'd brought along with them, or the fact that they'd been sampling their product. Fighting their way back to base would've sobered them up fast enough, but this, well, this was a lark for them. I should've been angry, but having dodged another tragedy, I let it coast, though my black despair and anger were just below the surface.

I didn't return to the Raven directly, but made a slow, wandering circuit of the island, on the off chance there might be others caught in the open, while shaking off continued talon-hawk attacks. It seemed unlikely we'd find anyone – we were being constantly attacked – but having failed to take proper precautions once already this round, I wasn't about to take the slightest chance of failing again for lack of trying. I strongly suspected there were people unaccounted for...

'Are the sentries safe, or do you think we need to pick them up?' I asked Trin as we drifted over the waving tree tops.

'The watch posts are near old weapons emplacements which will provide adequate shelter, they have sturdy steel doors,' she replied, adding, 'I think everyone alive is now behind steel doors and grating.'

She likely deduced who I was looking for, but went along with it without objection. We had almost reached the base end of the island – though on the side opposite the cavern – without seeing anyone or any signal, when we came upon a large cluster of fiercely contending talon-hawks. They were fighting over pieces of other talon-hawks in a pink cloud of blood and feathers. I brought the boat to a halt just over the tops of the tall fern trees, and searched the ground below for some sign of life, since it seemed likely, that some of the dead talon-hawks had been initially killed by darter or gun fire from the ground.

'They wouldn't have started that on their own, would they?' I asked Trin, using the boat's cameras to scour the underbrush and rocks, without results.

She shrugged. 'They might, if they're hungry enough, it doesn't take much for them to set upon each other. They may have clans or family groups that fight... Oh, look,' she added, pointing to the view-panel that I'd focused on the pink cloud of thrashing talon-hawks above us. I zoomed in and saw what looked like twisted shreds of fabric amongst the feathers and torn hunks of talon-hawks.

Armored clothing is very hard to tear, but with sharp enough talons and a savage will, it could be ripped to shreds. I identified a boot and a torn coat sleeve, but most of the pieces were too twisted and shredded to be identified, much less offer a clue as to who had worn them. Still, there was little doubt that the talon-hawks had eventually overwhelmed the people who had started the feeding frenzy. We'd know who, once the talon-hawk wave had passed and I was pretty certain I already knew why. It was a shame that Vinden had either left or had not reached his men before the bugles sent him scurrying back to base. The sight did little to relieve my anger or my guilt. I'm not even sure Vinden's death would've done anything to do that. It was a mistake that could not be undone.

We docked with the Raven, five minutes before the bulk of the horde poured over, under and around Redoubt island, darkening the sky with darting fierce red giant hawks. They attacked the Raven just as they had attacked the Ghost with even less effect. Down the coast, the Guardian was blazing away, as was the Indomitable, now positioned across the cavern mouth with its decks lined with sailors armed with the long, deadly, rifles of Cimmadar, who were also blazing away, creating a vast red cloud of talon-hawks, blood and feathers. Very few talon-hawks made it into the cavern, where they were no doubt killed by the crew on the Triumphant.

Trin and I were the last to leave the Ghost. Riv, Sar and the two Cimmadarians were waiting for us in the passageway.

'We just want to thank you for coming for us, Skipper. Much appreciated,' said Riv. Sar nodded and mumbled his thanks, as did XinDi, and AnRe, the Cimmadarians, both of whom I recognized.

'And I wanted to make one thing clear to you and Sub-Captain Trin, Riv continued. 'Sar and I are the proprietors of the Redoubt Island Daffa Berry Distillery. XinDi and AnRe were with us as our guides and guards. They've nothing to do with the distillery at all.'

I doubt he expected anyone to believe that, but that was going to be his story.

I glanced across to Trin, who usually gives nothing away, and didn't now, so I said, 'What you do in you off-duty time is your own affair. I don't know why you'd bother distilling daffa berries when you have a perfectly good synth-food machine that will produce perfectly good spirits...'

'But not daffa brandy, Skipper. Not until we've a supply of it for the machine to analyze and synthesize, anyway.'

I opened my mouth, to point out that if the carboys they brought along with them were filled, they had produced a great deal more than what was needed to analyze, but thought, What the Neb. Why bother? I may well be needing the comfort of daffa brandy to dull my pain, so I said instead, 'You might want to weigh the chances of feeding dragons, talon-hawks, or the Neb knows what else, before you decide to add something new to your already extensive collection of spirit recipes.'

'Aw, Skipper. The synth-spirits are like synth-food. Not the real thing...'

'Oh, get out of here, before I get mad. I've had a rough day,' I said, and for once, meant it.

After they'd left, I asked Trin what would happen to XinDi and AnRe.

She shrugged, and smiled, just faintly, 'They're too good. Making daffa brandy is a fine art. So as long as the officer's table has its supply, and everyone turns up sober for duty, we turn a blind eye to their off duty recreation.'

'Good, I'd hate to think my crew has corrupted some innocent...'

There was a terrified yelp that echoed up the long passageway from the engine room.

Molaye, who'd been standing next to us, smiled and said, 'I imagine they discovered the sentry serpents.'

'Leave the Neb-blasted serpents alone!' I bellowed down. 'Do you hear me?'

'Aye,' Sar called up. 'I only hope he just fainted.'

By the time the surviving talon-hawks had disappeared into the haze of islands, four watches later, we all had gotten to know the sentry serpents quite well. The young ones – two meters long these days – were soon drifting at will throughout the ship. Trin and XinDi assured us that they were not only harmless, but at the right age to be domesticated. Having grown up with the constant comings and goings of personnel, they were already half domesticated, and we soon came to pay them no mind, letting them drift about, poking their cold snouts into everything. And much like Ginger, they seemed to enjoy seeing you jump. I'd be showing our Cimmadarian guests something about the ship and get a feeling of something next to my ear only to glance back and find myself nose to nose with a whole lot of teeth and gleaming black eyes. Got the blood pumping. Still, they seemed harmless enough. Mom was a bit more reserved, but in any event, you naturally tend to stay clear of a three-meter dragon floating about. Trin, our dragon expert, also knew her way around a synth-food machine and programmed some synth-sentry serpent food to feed them. I felt it was good policy to keep'em well fed, since they weren't quite domesticated.

I spent the time waiting for the horde to clear to introduce Trin, XinDi and AnRe to the ship, and by the time the all clear was blown I had XinDi and AnRe signed on as volunteers. If I could get another four like them, I was confident that I could manage the Raven with just a Cimmadar crew, and get by without Vinden's thugs on board. I didn't want any of Vinden's men anywhere near me.

04

We had just moored the Raven again after the all clear had been blown, when Tenry came over from the flagship.

'The boss wants to see you,' he said, giving me an appraising look from my cabin's doorway.

'Which boss is that?'

'The one who's trying to keep you alive.'

'Good. I've been hoping to talk to that one. Who fed the talon-hawks?'

He gave me a sharp look. 'Who says anyone did?'

'After we picked up the distillery staff, I took a few turns around the island, looking for anyone else caught in the open. We came across a cluster of feeding talon-hawks, mostly eating their own, but we saw scraps of clothing amongst the blood and feathers. Whoever it was didn't kill'em fast enough. So who's missing?'

'Crain and Zervic are unaccounted for.'

'I believe I can account for them. How does Vinden explain it? I saw him racing to base just ahead of the talon-hawks. I'm thinking he left them to die with my kidnapped prisoner.'

'You don't know anything about that, Skipper. Stick with the second agent as you suggested.'

'Oh, I just said that to get under LilDre's smug skin. The fact that Vinden and Min are alive makes that theory unlikely. Any other agent or agents would've sprung Cin and tipped us off.'

'Well, you sure got them riled up. Even without the second agent, the idea that the Triumphant could've been transmitting signals to the space station as it came in can't be dismissed. Vinden is in a suppressed frenzy. He's half expecting an enemy fleet to arrive any second.'

'Serves him right. He's not to be trusted, Ten.'

Tenry shrugged. 'Maybe. But he seems to blame you for that, too. And just for the heads-up, he's not happy with you leaving him to die, either.'

'To die? Neb, I wish. He was a minute or two away from base and in no danger. Though just between you and me, if I hadn't Trin along with me, he'd likely have fed the talon-hawks too.'

'I thought we were supposed to be holding the Unity Standard banner high in this venture?'

I gave him a look, but what could I say? Still. 'He'll lead us to our deaths unless we do something about him. I don't have a good feeling about this whole enterprise.'

'Getting cold feet are we?'

'Look me in the eye, Ten, and tell me you've any confidence that two and a half warships and three hundred sailors and servants are going to bring down a regime that has been on the throne for a century. One that is, at least, as legitimate as ours, and if the truth comes out, more so.'

He shook his head. 'Not my concern. I'm just a boarding boat leader. But enough gossip. You've a boss to see. I would suggest you fire your rockets and launch. She wasn't in a good mood.'

'Right,' I said, unhooking my darter and holster off the clip on the bulkhead. 'Let's go.'

'Pretty careful these days, aren't you?' said Tenry, watching me strap the holster on.

'A dangerous place, the Pela. Never know when you'll run into something deadly, even aboard the flagship.'

Tenry didn't argue that.

I was shown into Min's cabin on my arrival. She was alone. Her look was anything but welcoming.

'Good to see you, Talley. It's become rather rare.'

'You know why you're here, don't you?' she asked, without returning my greeting.

I found myself remarkably resigned to, well, whatever. 'Tell me.'

'First off, I've managed to keep you from a firing squad. Again.'

'Thank you. Much appreciated. Not that I've done anything deserving of a firing squad. The same can't be said for others on your staff. Let's call them Crain and Zervic. Captain LilDre has no doubt informed you of the incident on my ship shortly before the arrival of the talon-hawks. I understand Crain and Zervic are missing. Any word? I assume they were wearing their com links.'

'I didn't summon you here to discuss Crain and Zervic, or what they may or may not've done. I didn't even summon you to discuss your abandonment of Uncle Hawk to the talon-hawks.'

'He was minutes from base and had already killed the only talon-hawk in the vicinity. He was in no danger, and if he says otherwise, he's a liar.'

She dismissed that with an impatient movement of her hand, and pressed on, 'I've summoned you to tell you I've appointed Tenry to take your place as captain of the Rift Raven.'

'A good choice. And me?' I replied. The announcement was neither unexpected, nor, I'll admit, devastating, though I felt guilty about that. But then, I was feeling guilty – and unhappy – about a lot of things. And indifferent to my fate.

'You're still captain of the Starry Shore.'

'Why can't I continue to serve you here? If we must part ways, it should be with our cards face up on the table.'

'Because I need Uncle Hawk and he won't tolerate your continued presence. He wants you dead, and sooner or later he'd see to it. I don't need that type of disruption in the cause. Your actions have made it impossible for the two of you to serve together. And since I can't have both, it must be Uncle Hawk, who is critical to our success. Unlike you.'

'He's a danger to your success, not critical to it.'

'For Neb's sake, do you have to argue about everything with me?'

The fatalistic sense of hopelessness that I'd felt growing these last few watches took the breath out of any reply I might offer. I stood mute.

So she continued, 'There are other reasons, as well. For one, I can't trust you. I'd never know when something arises that you decide is too, well, rough for you, too non-Unity Standard. Bad karma, or whatever. And you'll go and do something other than what you're ordered to do. I warned you this would be hard, bitter and heartless work. And, as I suspected you're simply too...'

'Too soft? Too Unity Standard? Too cautious? Too cowardly?' I suggested.

'Yes.'

She was right, of course. But I was right as well. I was right to be Unity Standard, and had very good reasons for being cautious. I found, however, that I no longer cared. Still, I forced myself to reply. 'I have very good reasons for being what I am. And perhaps I can see more clearly what your prospects of success are – without the cloud of emotions you must feel, on account of your parents and all. Fine. Don't trust me. Trust Vynnia and Tenry. They have the experience you need. But the one person you should never trust is Vinden. He's a fanatic, a failure, a loose cannon...'

'He's a loose cannon! That's rich, coming from you.'

'He is a law unto himself, dangerous and delusional. If he was unable to organize a counter coup early in his aunt's reign, what hope is there now, a century later? Did you know he was ready to return without you, to be the regent? He doesn't need you, and if you get in his way he'll treat you no better than that assassin...'

'Enough, Captain. You've not been summoned to discuss Uncle Hawk or grand strategy. You've been summoned to be dismissed from my service and given your orders to take your crew back to the Starry Shore and forget you've ever been here,' she snapped angrily.

'Damnit, Min. Someone needs to be discussing grand strategy with you. Do you fully realize what that assassin means to your chances?'

'Yes.'

'Do you? Do you realize that since St Bleyth planted an agent aboard the Triumphant, your enemies know not only the approximate timing, but the force you're bringing with you as well? It's taken us more than two years to get here. Do you believe your enemies have done nothing in those two years to counter your threat, even if you assume, like Vinden seems to do, that they've done nothing in the last 80? Clearly, your chances of surprise, and thus, success are now nil.'

She didn't answer, so I continued.

'I may be cautious, or a coward, but is seems to me your cause is doomed, and has been from the start. But you don't have to go through with it. You found your answers. Now, if you want to see Cimmadar, Glen Colin can take you there in one of the scout ship, in secret. We'll wait and take you home when you've see enough.'

'You don't really understand. And you never will.'

'Perhaps not. But when the time comes, Talley, when you see the overwhelming power of your enemies, and realize the wickedness of wasting the lives of the people who would follow you to death, make sure you're aboard the Raven, with Vynnia, Tenry and Glen Colin. You are going to need the ability to run, to run fast and very far...'

'Enough. Clearly you don't belong here, this sort of an affair is not for you. Go, be a tramp ship captain, or a cha planter, or whatever. Don't look back. And don't worry about me. I'll be what I was meant to be as well...'

'You can be an empress without the Cloud Throne. You have a nucleolus of a new empire right here. Start your own. Be Min the First. You may be born for the Pela, but the Pela is vast. You don't need the Cloud Throne...'

'It's not a matter of being empress. I will not let the killers of my parents, and grandparents go unchallenged. That is how I think. Who I am. Perhaps because I'm a creature of the Pela. And you're not. Go.'

I'd a darting sense of deja vu. The wyrm weather dream – not the same, and yet uncanny.... What could I do, but let her go? 'Perhaps you're right, though I'm only saying that because I want us to part friends.'

'You're saying it because you know I'm right.'

'Yes, you're always right,' I said, and my five hundred generations of St Bleyth sanctimonious pirates, prompted me to step close, draw her closer and kiss her. As in the dream. She returned it briefly with a little tenderness, but no passion.

'I'm glad that's settled,' She said, firmly pushing me away, 'About always being right.' Then drawing a small drive token from her jacket pocket she placed it in my hand. 'This contains all the documentation and authorizations necessary to transfer the ownership of the Starry Shore and its assets to a new holding company with you and all my old shipmates as shareholders.'

I stared at her. 'Why?'

'Neb! Do you never learn? Because I want to. I'll never need it again. It's the Cloud Throne or death for me.'

'Make that the Cloud Throne or an empire of your own.'

She sighed. 'Please, just go, Wil. Take this and get back to the Unity and your proper life.'

I wasn't going to change her mind, so I took the drive and simply said, 'Thank you.'

'And here's the key to the pilot bot that will take the ship back to Ravin. Uncle Hawk says that it's only programmed to take you back. It won't lead you here ever again', she said, handing me a second drive.

'Right.'

'I want you off within two watches. We'll be moving the Indomitable and the Raven off the island, just in case your assassin did have a radio transmitter with her. Signal me when you're ready to sail and I'll come over to say my goodbyes.'

'Right.'

'And, a final word of warning,' she said gravely. 'Uncle Hawk wanted me to emphasize that you and the gang must never breathe a word of what you've seen here. Should anyone talk, they'll be tracked down and killed no matter who's on the Cloud Throne. It's that stark. It's a matter that transcends any differences. Don't let anyone forget that.'

'I've made that all very clear, and will continue to do so. Trust me.'

'If I could, you might not be leaving,' she replied.

Tenry was waiting for me when I came out. 'Come along, Captain Roynay. I'll introduce you your first mate. And congratulations, Ten,' I added shaking his hand.

He was watching me closely. 'You're relieved, aren't you?'

'Well, Ten, I know you can do what needs to be done better than I. When this Neb-doomed enterprise is about to blow up, as it certainly will – and you know that as well as I do – you and Vyn need to get Talley, and Glen Colin aboard the Raven and clear out – all the way back to the Nine Stars would be my choice, but I'll leave that up to you. Be sure to include Glen Colin, since he alone can pilot you home. We're unlikely ever to cross orbits again, but I'll be able to sleep at night knowing you're on watch.'

'I will do what I can, Wil.'

'Remember what even this cautious fellow had to do on Lontria. You may well have to do the same thing here.'

'Ah, I seem to remember that you ordered Vyn and me to do it.'

'Exactly. So I know you can do it here as well. Just don't wait until it's too late.'

I was stowing my gear into my two large ship-bags when I noticed Trin watching me from the doorway, several hours later.

'Tenry's a good man,' I said to her. 'He spent fifty commissions in the Unity's Patrol. He knows how a naval ship operates. He's shrewd and as brave as they come. You'll like him.'

'I liked you, Captain.' she said simply. 'Good hunting.'

'Thanks. Good hunting, Trin. And take care, don't do anything I wouldn't do.'

She may've smiled ever so slightly.

Glen Colin stopped by shortly afterward, as well.

'Ah, just the fellow I wanted to have a word with,' I said, seeing him.

'And what word would that be, Cap'n?'

'As my favorite ghost, Glen, I'd hope that when the time comes and your special talents are telling you that you're getting very near a familiar place – yet another disaster engineered by Prince Imvoy – you'll find a reason to be aboard the old Raven.'

'And why would I do that?'

'How long will your supply of Dew of Dunagan last?'

He grinned. 'You do know how to make a compelling case, Cap'n. I'll keep it in mind.'

'I'd appreciate it. And don't be a stranger,' I said. 'You know where to find us.'

'Aye, Cap'n, I do. Perhaps I'll drop by for a yarn or two.'

I met Min just outside the access tube to the long boat. She'd just finished saying her final farewells to her old shipmates who were now packed into the longboat for the journey back to the ship and home. We stood in silence for a long moment.

'Sorry, Wil. Take care of my ship. Fair orbits,' she said quietly.

I shrugged. 'No doubt for the best. Nothing more need to be said.' And I took her hand. 'Be very careful, Talley. I hope you find what you're seeking. It was good knowing you, and loving you, a little.'

She was having none of that. 'Goodbye Captain.' And with a nod, started down the long passageway to the engine room airlock, to where the scout boat was waiting for her.

'Good luck, Talley, and don't do anything I wouldn't do!'

She gave a dismissive wave without looking back.

I sent what little luck I had left with her.

We slowly left the island behind and set our course for the ship. I had put out a signal for Botts once I learned we were to sail. It promptly replied that the talon-hawk horde had delayed his return, but it was close at hand and would join us shortly. We moved out of sight of Redoubt island, and waited for it to catch up and then set out for the ship and the Neb. No one had much to say about my dismissal, at least in my hearing. I'd no regrets, knowing that Vynnia and Tenry would look after Min and far more effectively than I could've. I didn't envy them.

### Chapter 76 The Final Betrayal

01

Quarters were tight in the longboat, but we were all old shipmates and had plenty to talk about during the two-day trip with Botts at the helm. As I mentioned, nothing was said, but clearly no one was surprised that I was sent packing. The handwriting had been on the wall as soon as I put that dart into Vinden.

On the way back I disclosed Min's generous gesture of turning the Starry Shore over to us. She'd given me a 1/12th share of the ship and 2/12th of its assets. A fortune. She'd divided the remaining assets and balance of the ship into equal shares for the current crew, along with Myes and Rafe. It was a fortune for everyone, especially for the younger members of the crew. There were drifteer traders available that could be had for their share when they felt like striking out on their own. So between Min's gift and Riv's daffa brandy, everyone was in a pretty jolly mood, save old Cap'n Wil. Though I tried to hide my regrets and worries, I didn't fool anyone. We'd been shipmates far too long for that to lift.

Command of the Rift Raven would've suited me just fine. With it, I would've been able to keep my promise and contribute to Min's cause – however forlorn it turns out to be – and in a manner I was best suited for. While, at the same time, be in a position to aid Min, Vynnia and Tenry, in the inevitable escape when the counter coup hit the rocks. However, if I'd not been on the flagship or Cin had not hesitated when she saw me, as I believe she did, allowing me a second to draw my sissy, I was pretty certain there'd be no counter-revolution to aid. Cin was a second or two away from completing her Honor Mission when my lucky darts put an end to it.

I'm fooling myself even to think that. I'll not fool you. It was what I did after I had thwarted Cin's attempt that ended my usefulness to Min. Darting Vinden, even if I underestimated his standing in the movement, was simply not going to be tolerated. It couldn't be overlooked. And the summary execution of Cin would likely not to have mattered. My objections were no doubt viewed as whimsical, romantic or simply unrealistic, given the nature of the conflict. And my darting of Vinden was foolhardy, no matter how right it seemed in the moment. Still, I couldn't think I should have done anything differently, which is small comfort. Nothing, in the end, had turned out right.

02

We' spent two days going over the Starry Shore making her ready to sail for home. As we were finishing up I asked Botts to step around to my office at its convenience for a confab. I was playing with the pilot bot key at my desk when it appeared in the door.

'Captain?'

'Do we need this?' I asked, as I tossed the pilot bot key back and forth in my hands. 'Can you pilot us back to the Neb, given the Directorate's estimation of our location?'

'How important is travel time?'

'Not as important as getting back to the Neb. Somehow, Botts, I find myself looking every gift horse from Hawker Vinden in the mouth. I don't trust him, and I don't trust his pilot bot, at least not without him aboard, So, that being the case, I'm wondering if you could use the estimated position you and the Directorate came up with to find our way back the known Nebula. I realize it will take longer, but it will take longer in any case since we're left with less than half our fuel. But I'd sleep a lot sounder knowing you were our pilot, and if we take most of the passage in our sleeper-pods, the duration, if reasonable, would not matter much. Since we're all owners now, I don't have to worry about crew salaries.'

'First off, I cannot say for certainty which direction leads back to the Unity, so we'd be starting blindly. I don't know how long it would take to emerge from this black reef and reach a position where we could locate ourselves in the Nebula. And I could not guarantee that we wouldn't be heading away from our desired destination. Those two unknowns would force me to be very conservative with our fuel, and thus make a long passage of this first leg of our journey. After determining our position, we might still find ourselves in a position where we would have to traverse reefs without charts. There were a series of maneuvers during the passage that would seem to indicate that we were traversing a reef or two, so I think this would be very likely. While none of this rules out my piloting the ship home, it makes it likely that the voyage would take at least say, six years or more, to get back to the Neb.'

'Would you be willing to pilot us? I'd rotate a minimum crew to keep you company, knowing how social you are.'

'Piloting a ship is what I was made to do, Captain. I would welcome the opportunity.'

'Right. I think we'll go that route. Still, I'll sleep on it. I don't want to let my dislike of Vinden unduly influence my actions, but I don't have a good feeling about giving Vinden's pilot bot absolute control of my ship again. Am I being unreasonable, Botts?'

It considered my question for a moment. 'Based on my long service with Villain Viseor, his associates, and rivals, I would say that some humans have primordial drives and a certain disregard for ethics that, if I were asked to put my fate in their hands, I would pause to consider what exactly their motives might be before I committed myself.'

'Exactly.'

03

I decided to have Botts pilot us home, to everyone's relief, I think. Better the robot you know... Riv had the engineer console, Elana, the pilot's chair and Kie, the lookout. A formality, of course, because Botts would be taking us out. Molaye, Botts and I completed the bridge contingent, lounging in the auxiliary station chairs behind the main console. We were waiting for Riv and Lilm to complete their final pre-burn run through of their engines. Botts could've done it himself, but engineers are pretty touchy about their charges, so we let them go about their work.

'My last voyage, Molaye. There's a cha plantation in the clouds waiting for me somewhere at the end of it,' I said with a sigh. 'Blue seas fading into the haze, green peaks in the clouds. A rocket boat in the shed, for when I get restless... Ah, like Vinden, I'm almost ready to sleep this passage away.'

'Right,' said Molaye, rolling her eyes. 'Never fear, we'll talk you out of that. You've plenty of years to grow cha in your old age.'

'You've thought me pretty ancient right from the beginning – a decade ago. I'm old enough to plant cha and you're ancient enough to be Captain Merlun.'

'We'll see,' she replied with a happy laugh, no doubt repeating "Captain Merlun" silently in her head.

'Engines are ready, Skipper,' said Riv.

'Right. Let's get it underway. 'She's all yours, Botts. Take us home. Set a course for Carivon – as soon as you can find out where in the Neb we are.'

Where in the Nebula we would actually go after Carivon, had been a subject of debate since we left the Pela, and wasn't resolved. Still, not knowing what our status would be with both Cimmadar and St Bleyth when we arrived, it seemed foolhardy to just blunder back into the situation we'd been in before we sailed for the Tenth Star. We'd arrive in Carivon orbit, a new ship with new names again. Kie and Botts would fix things with the Unity and Guild on Carivon and then, perhaps, we'd go... But, I suppose, those will be Captain Merlun's decisions.

'I have the ship, Captain,' said Botts, as it fired the steering rockets to swing the ship away from the Tenth Star. I could feel the slight tug of inertia as the ship began to stir.

Even as the ship began its swing, its main engines sprang to life – at max thrust – pushing us into our chairs as the ship began to accelerate.

'What in the bloody blazes! I exclaimed. 'Botts! Have you short circuited? We're not in that big of a hurry!'

Botts' eyes glowed brightly. 'Sir!' And said nothing more

Different steering rockets began to fire, also at max thrust, pushing us awkwardly against the arm rests of our chairs.

'Botts? What are you doing?' Had it gone berserker on us?

'Captain, Order the ship to be abandoned immediately. I have been replaced at the controls of the ship. The pilot bot has taken control again, and now has control of the ship's systems. It appears to be steering the ship for the shell reef, and I suspect it has been programmed to destroy us. You need to act without delay, Captain,' it said, broadcasting to everyone aboard,

Vinden. The dead will tell no tales of the Pela.

'To your assigned boats, everyone,' I ordered over the com link. 'Botts, send Botts II to the gig, you'll be aboard the longboat. Riv, Kie, see to the gig, Molaye, the long boat. Move.'

We staggered to our feet, under the twisting pseudo-gravity of the main and steering engines maximum thrust. Riv and Kie stumbled off for the engine room access to the gig. Molaye looked to me. 'Captain, you're coming...'

'Of course. Go. I'm right behind you. Get everyone of your group aboard the longboat. Now.'

As I spoke, Botts also shook himself, as if to free himself from the ship, and tore out of the bridge. A moment later, it was broadcasting on everyone's com link, 'Do not wait for me. I am going to attempt to sever the pilot bot's link to the ship's controls and regain control of the ship. I cannot guarantee I will be able to accomplish the task before the ship reaches the reef, so do not delay on my account. Get the boats off before the rocks become too thick.'

'Do you need help, Botts?' I asked.

'No. During the voyage I explored the inner hull and charted the pilot bot's location and its network connections. It resides in an armored pod located in one of the fuel tanks and its link to the ship's systems is, for the most part, hidden and not easily accessible within the ship's support structures. I did, however, find one accessible spot in that link that I can reach and possibly sever, but the conduit is heavily armored and will take time to breach. I've collected a plasma salvage ax and I'm making my way to it now. There is nothing you can do. Just see that everyone gets clear of the ship. You have less than two minutes before we'll be in the outer fringes of the reef. '

Riv broke in. 'The bloody access hatches won't open, Skipper. Tried the manual over-ride. No go. We're locked out of the gig.'

'Molaye?'

'Same here.'

'Damn. Damn. Damn!' I said.

'You will need to disable the power unit to the access port,' said Botts over the com link, and flashed to everyone a diagram from the ship's manual showing the control boxes near the access ports and highlighted where the power line could be reached and severed. 'A plasma ax should do the trick. Without power, they'll open manually.'

'Right. Everyone not hacking on the power line suit up. We'll be taking hits very soon.' I said, staggering over to the bridge's emergency spacesuit locker.

'Are you coming up, Captain? asked Molaye again, over the com link.

'I'm donning my suit and will be up shortly.' Botts seemed unperturbed, and I didn't care to sound panic stricken in comparison. Though I was close to it.

I sat down and slipped the loose fabric suit on – mechanically making the needed connections as I did, I cursed Vinden, over and over again. We'd worn the suits often enough, so I could curse him and still swiftly suit up.

There was a loud, shuttering screech as we sideswiped a small meteor.

'Captain, we'll have the hatch open in less than a minute. Get up here, now,' said Molaye via my com link speaker.

'On my way.' Taking charge already, though it looked to be too late. 'How are you doing Botts?'

'I've made a scratch in it.'

I hoped that was robot humor.

The ship shuttered again, staggering me as it sideswiped another rock.

'How are you doing Riv?

'All present. Sar's hacking away. Sparks are flying. Another blow should do it...We'll be in shortly.'

Right. Nothing more to do. I opted for the small access ladder rather than the main well – it was easier to hang on to and it led directly to the longboat access port.

Another rock bounced off the hull, setting the ship to ringing. Any of those rocks would've destroyed the ship had we been traveling at interplanetary speeds. It was only the fact that we were traveling at a relative crawl – a ship the size of the Starry Shore takes its time to build up any sort of velocity, even with the engines at max – which meant they bounced off of us, rather than blowing us to atoms on impact. However, the longer the rockets blasted full out, the denser the shell-reef became, the more likely we'd hit a rock large enough that wouldn't bounce off. Which, I thought, if it happened really soon, would be our best hope – we might survive the impact – there was a great deal of hull between us and the bow of the ship to absorb the force of impact. But it had to be soon.

'We'll be able to take to the boats in a minute or two, Botts. Get to the longboat if it doesn't look like you can sever the link,' I panted, as I climbed up the rungs set in the bulkhead, past the crew. We had to be accelerating at more than 1 gee, so climbing was hard work in the space suit and uncertain motion of the ship as it encountered more and more small asteroids.

'I am built of D-matter and don't need air. I can survive a crash far better than humans, Captain. Don't wait. Get the boats away before the rocks get too thick and dangerous.'

I reached the awning deck and swung out into the companionway. The longboat the crew had collected in the little alcove by the access hatch was close at hand.

'We've got it open. Get up here, Wil.' I could hear her speaking aloud as well as via my com link.

'I'm here...' I called out just as I was blinded by a brilliant flash and deafened by a great crash that sent a black, tidal wave of debris flying down the companionway at me. Something big and fast hit my legs, knocking me off my feet and sending a sharp wave of pain up through my body, followed by another stunning blow to my chest taking my breath away. Smaller pieces peppered me as my vision or the lights flickered and went out. There was a high pitched shriek and the breath was drawn from my lungs as the deck opened up to the vacuum of space.

'We've been hulled! Button up!' I heard Molaye yell, as I weakly, and ineffectively, tried to pull the spacesuit's hood over my head.

Blackness.

04

It took some time to recognize Illy. I was afraid I was seeing her from the far side of the event horizon, so it took a very long time to form and deliver a mumbled question. 'Where am I?' or sounds to that effect.

'The medic bay. You're born to die a cha planter.'

'The gang?'

'All survived. You're the worst case.' That wasn't entirely reassuring. I seemed surrounded by the med bay machines, I thought of old Captain Miccall...

'My ship?

'Botts says he'll get us home.'

'You're not lying?'

She shook her head 'No, we survived.'

My vision was just clear enough to see her and knew her well enough to know that she wasn't lying, so I closed my eyes and let go.

Later, when I awoke again, I was a little clearer headed, though I found I couldn't move – I was strapped in an accelerating healing unit covering my chest and my lower legs as well. I lay reviewing events over and over, until Illy appeared again.

'Feeling stronger, Captain?' she asked.

'Some. What's our condition?'

'Stable. Botts was able to sever the link and take back control just as we hit the rock that knocked you out. It managed to swing the ship around, and with volley after volley of anti-meteor missiles smash the biggest rocks in our path as we decelerated. The ship sustained damage, mostly to the bow and cargo hatches, but Botts says it'll get us home, although we'll need several weeks to put things back together before we start. So you can just relax. Molaye has everything well in hand, and there'll be plenty to do even after you've been mended.'

'How long will that be?'

'Two more days under the full set of healers, and another five days of intermittent treatments should get you back to your old self. All you need to do is relax, get better, and stay out of Molaye's way.'

'What happened to me? I remember the breach on the awning deck, and well, nothing much afterwards.'

'You were hit by debris. Broke both of your legs, and damaged your ribs and lungs. Molaye reached you in time to prevent you from being sucked out through the breach with the atmosphere, and managed to secure your spacesuit hood so you didn't suffocate straight off. It was touch and go for both you and the ship for a while there and it took almost half an hour before we could get you to the medic bay. You were sailing pretty close to the event horizon, Wil, but you pulled through.'

'I guess I retired a little early.'

'Oh, you'll be back before we sail. Don't worry.'

I wasn't worrying. Captain Merlun had taken charge, and she was welcomed to it. I'd a feeling that the current state of the Starry Shore would've broken my heart, if I was still her captain.

Later, my shipmates were allowed to come around to yarn under the watchful eyes of Molaye and Illy. I counted noses and they were indeed, all accounted for. All looked worn, but put on a good show of being in good spirits, so I just concentrated on getting whole again.

Three days later I was sitting up in the medic bay, still connected to the medic unit by a few portable units and cables – my damaged bones and tissue had been rebuilt but not completely restored.

'How'ya feeling Captain?' asked Molaye as she and Botts entered the med-bay.

'As good as I look,' I replied.

'I was hoping for a better report. Still, that'll have to do. Illy says you're well on the mend, so I thought I'd best fill you in on our status and prospects.'

'You needn't. I'm not taking charge again. You've paid your dues. Keep at it, Captain Merlun. You've been running the ship for years, anyway.'

She just laughed, and said, 'I'm sure we'll argue about that all the way home. 'Still, I'm sure you're anxious to hear my status report. Think of it as a courtesy, if you want. Doesn't matter to me. '

'I'm pretty sure I don't want to hear it, but lift anyway.'

'The good news is that all the critical systems are repairable. The bow is pretty smashed in and the hull has a whole new set of nice long dents. We were holed only once, in no.4 hold, the one that put you here. That's sealed. We have enough fuel in the remaining auxiliary tanks to get us home, but it would be a very long trip, on our own. But we'll get to that in a moment,' Molaye went into the details, which I won't bother to record, save that from what I could gather, reading between her optimistic lines, the Starry Shore's next port of call would be the flats of & Kin's, or some such spaceship grave yard. The damage to the hull seemed likely beyond repair. 'So you see, Captain, the main damage is to the forward hull, so the Starry Shore can still get us home, thanks to Botts, once again.'

'I don't know how we can repay you, Botts,' I said, turning to it, standing silently next to Molaye.

'My pleasure, and my duty, Captain. It is what I was built for. And having heard our status, I now have a proposal to make, with your permission.'

'Of course, please do.'

'As Molaye mentioned, with the remaining fuel our voyage home could be a very extended one since I will have to proceed very slowly until I can determine our position to conserve fuel. And then, depending on our vector relative to our desired target, we could be faced with a very long voyage – ten years or more cannot be ruled out at this point.

'However, the Directorate being aware of our situation and eager to repay you for your services to the Mountain King would like to return the favor and offer aid that would significantly increase our chances of returning to the Neb within a reasonable time frame. The Directorate likes to keep obligations in balance.'

'So do I, but I should hate to think they owe us anything. All we did was honor our Guild obligations to aid a distressed spaceer. I prefer to think our relationship with both you and the Directorate are based more on friendship than obligation.'

'That being the case, I see no barrier to proceeding with the Directorate's proposed plan.'

'Which is?'

'Once I have us out of this reef and can determine our location, the Directorate would dispatch a replacement ship for the Starry Shore. They propose an Ividar 96 box SilverStar Liner, along with a cargo of machine made trade goods. They would dispatch it with robot pilot to rendezvous with us. We would take possession of it and the robot pilot would take charge of the Starry Shore to pilot it to the Inner Drifts.'

'That is too generous – an Ividar SilverStar is worth far more than the Starry Shore, even without a cargo. It seems out of proportion to whatever services I may have performed for them.'

'It is offered on the basis of friendship, Captain, as you yourself indicated. And the value of the ship is of no concern to the Directorate. We have no use for credits within the Machine Directorate. However, there may be more balance in the trade than is first apparent. Directorate policy is to collect all illegal machine in the human drifts. As such, it has an interest in collecting the pilot bot. The Directorate is also very interested in what that pilot bot can reveal concerning the historic ties of Cimmadar and the Nebula at large, so the exchange is not as uneven as it may appear to be.'

It still was. An Ividar ship is a premium, First World-built ship, and the SilverStar line is their premium line of ships. I doubted the pilot bot data, once extracted. would be that valuable. Still, I knew that the Directorate could easily afford to give us an Ividar ship – they needed very little from humans, and traded with us more or less as a way of keeping their ties with us alive, which, for some reason, they seemed to think is important.

'I must say, Botts, that's very, very generous of the Directorate... ' I said. 'Please express our deep gratitude. But I'd appreciate it if you'd give me several days to assess our situation and think. I need time to think everything through.'

It nodded, 'Yes, of course. We have time'

05

The following day, still confined to the medic bay, but feeling stronger, I asked Botts to step around to see me.

'We know who did it, and why – the dead tell no stories of the Pela. What I don't know is how? How could a class 7 machine attempt to kill us? I thought they had programs to prevent that.'

'Strictly speaking, it wasn't the pilot bot that took control of the ship. There was a low order AI pilot install within the pilot bot pod – one that was too simple to need to be programed not to kill. It was located before the actual pilot bot and designed to intervene before the pilot bot took control, under certain conditions. I suspect it could be triggered to destroy the ship when the authorized pilot thought that the ship was in danger of being used by non-Cimmadarians to reach the Pela. A sort of anti-pirate kill switch.'

'How likely was that? I mean, I assume the key drive had certain wards and secret procedures to protect it from being used by just anyone.'

'People can be forced to do things against their will. The fail-safe would allow someone being forced to apparently cooperate while insuring that the secret would still be kept. You must remember, we're talking about a secret that has been kept for perhaps twenty thousand years or more. Over that period of time, just about everything could happen.

'The pilot bot predates the revolution, so it's at least 11,000 years old, and likely much older, which is one of the reasons why the Directorate is so interested in its history. I suspect that the pilot bot has been in the service of Cimmadar since before the Revolution – likely installed and re-installed in the ships that sail the Nebula. Indeed, I suspect that to keep their secret, only pilot bots know how to find the Tenth Star. In that way, no corruptible person in their employment could ever compromise the location of the Tenth Star. The only link between the Neb and the Pela is an incorruptible pilot bot, guarded by a kill switch.'

'Makes sense, though, Glen Colin could've found his way back, when he was loose in the Nebula. But then, his talent wasn't known when they allowed him outside the Pela. I suppose that's what made him so very valuable to Vinden. Even without the Starry Shore, he had Glen Colin stashed away in a sleeper-pod who could, if necessary, find his way home. Old Glen Colin knew his value...' I mused, recalling our conversations.

'Glen Colin was, indeed, a dangerous oversight, as we are now.'

'Well, you and the Directorate can find your way here, or will be able to soon enough. I doubt we will. Though it is ironic that because they tried to kill us, we're now able to if we cared to chart a course to the Tenth Star. That's something we'll have to ponder, Botts. Do we really want to know?'

'I believe I can trust you, Captain, to make the right choice.'

'Not a question I really want to think of, at the moment. The more pressing question is what activated the suicide switch? We've been sailing the ship for decades without tripping it.'

'Vinden must have activated it before he left the ship, and set it so that as soon as we set out, the suicide bot's trigger was tripped and usurping the pilot bot's priorities, took complete control of the ship to do one thing – to destroy it. Fortunately, it was not a sophisticated program, so that running the ship onto the rocks of a reef close at hand became its course of action, never mind that by starting from zero velocity it was not the most effective way to destroy the ship. Had it been programmed to take over some point later, while at interplanetary speeds and hit even a small meteor, it would have insured our complete and immediate destruction'

'I suppose, given complete control of the ship – we were trapped aboard it – there was no reason to get too fancy. It would've succeeded if you weren't on board and knew where its weak link was.'

'True, Captain.'

'We are very lucky to have you as a shipmate. Thank you Botts. Again.'

'I'm blushing, Captain,' it replied. 'But the truth is that I'm the one who's lucky. Discovering the Tenth Star more than pays for anything I have done for you and my shipmates.'

'We've both been very lucky, Botts.'

'Yes we have.'

06

Later.

'I've been thinking,' I began, pausing when Illy sighed, to give her a look and add, 'Well, I've had plenty of time. 'Mostly about the Starry Shore and Cin, and what I could've done, or not to have prevented these losses.

'Aye, Wil, so what have you been thinking about now?'

'Botts thinks that the pilot bot is the way Cimmadar keeps the Pela secret. Only pilot bot knows how to reach the Pela, and only someone with the key can activate it, and only with the proper procedure or ID. And, as we know, the crew isn't allowed to track its course.'

'So?'

'Well, it always struck me a little strange that St Bleyth would send the Sister Sinister after us. We'd been on Despar for ages, so they had plenty of time to kill Min and me prior to our departure. And with all the darter fights around the port, it would have been very easy to slip a few fatal darts into the nightly melees.'

'From all you've told me it was your Naylea Cin's assignment...'

'She's not mine...'

'Right. But as you pointed out, they were simply waiting for the assigned assassin to arrive. Code of honor and all. Besides, compared to their level of involvement in the Despar troubles, killing you and Tallith was likely a minor matter for St Bleyth. They sent Sister Sinister after you only after Cin failed again and we were on our way to the Unity where it would've been very hard to get the job done, once again. It was merely the most expedient measure to wrap up an unfortunate affair.'

'Well, that's what I thought. But knowing what we know now, there may be more to it than that. I think the Lost Star itself had a bounty on her – because of the pilot bot it had on board. It is the key to the Pela, and it was out of Cimmadar's control. As long as Prince Imvoy had it, they may not have been in a great panic, since it was unlikely that someone would discover, and then compromise the pilot bot security, as long as he was the Sowner. But once out of Vinden's control, that became a possibility. A very remote one, but then, I think we can safely say that they don't take chances. So the Lost Star was a loose end that needed to be tied up – either captured or destroyed. That couldn't be done within the Unity space, but once in the drifts, it was a different story. I think Cimmadar may have hired St Bleyth to capture or destroy the Lost Star, which puts D'Lay's insistence that we were the only ship for his mission in a slightly different light as well. Really, he could've chartered any number of drifteer ships in orbit, despite what he said.'

'You're suggesting that D'Lay chartered us to capture or destroy the Lost Star?'

'Well, he needed us to deliver his force to Boscone first, but after that...'

'Didn't he promise to keep us safe after our arrival?'

'From Cin. And he may not have been privy to the Order's ultimate plans for the Lost Star. He didn't strike me as the type that would simply destroy us when he was done with us, especially in light of his concern for our safety when Explora Miner arrived. But, if and when the orders came down, who knows? In any event, once the Lost Star was no longer of use to St Bleyth, and as soon as it became vulnerable to capture or destruction – which is to say, as soon as we were out of sight of the Patrol in Despar – they wasted no time sending a frigate after us, and spent little effort trying to talk us into surrendering before launching their missiles. Sending a warship to kill two people hardly seems cost effective, and St Bleyth is, despite its trappings, a business.'

'So?'

I glanced at her, and shrugged. 'So nothing. Like I said, just thinking.'

'Is that all you're thinking about?'

'No. I've been thinking that Vinden needs to be exposed for what he is and brought to justice. He was ready to take the Starry Shore back to the Pela without Min when we first crossed orbits with him. And I've no doubt that should Min prove an impediment to his ambitions, or when he no longer feels he needs her, he'll discard her, as well as Vyn and Ten, just as ruthlessly as he did us.'

'What can you do?' Not that she didn't know already.

'I can go back – as the sole survivor of the wreck of the Starry Shore, just to keep all of you presumed dead and free of Cimmadar's assassins. I'd be able to show Min what Vinden did to her shipmates and her ship. Hopefully this will be enough proof to decide that Vinden is too dangerous to trust or even keep about.'

'I doubt Min will welcome you back – for any reason. And Vinden would do everything possible to silence you. You can't go back, Wil. You'll have to trust that Min can handle her uncle.'

'She still, I think, admires him. And yes, I'll have to be very careful, and contact Min secretly. But we owe her that much.'

'So you've decided to go back.'

'I'm thinking about it,' I allowed. Mostly a lie.

Illy considered that for a moment, and said, 'I think you should think very carefully and concretely about what you could expect to accomplish. Min is quite capable of looking after herself. And we survived Vinden's attempt and will see home. The Starry Shore would always have been in danger of being discovered, so the new ship the Directorate is offering is a far better solution than renaming the Lost Star yet again. And how many times over the years have you bemoaned the drifteers' penchant for pursuing revenge? That's what this is really about. Vinden failed to kill us. Let's just get on with our lives.'

I shrugged, and left it at that for the moment.

She was right, of course. I was driven by revenge and the shame I felt for once again being outwitted by Vinden. And the guilt I felt in my careless failure to protect my prisoner. And guilt for so readily abandoning the promise I made to Min on the Yacht Club field. Oh, I'd left her without too much guilt, but now I couldn't – the Unity side of my heritage saw to that. My St Bleyth ancestors, of course, simply wanted Vinden dead. So rarely did both ways of looking at the Neb correspond, that it felt unavoidable, And I needed to do something – and as soon as I was able to. It was how it was written.

07

I'd one last item to take care of. I asked Botts to step around to my office for a talk.

'Captain?' it asked, as it entered. 'Have you come to a decision on the Directorate's offer?'

'Slide that door closed, will you?' I asked, and after it did so, I said. 'I have a counter proposal to make.'

'I take it you are uncomfortable with the proposal?'

'I'm not uncomfortable so much as I don't think it is necessary. I believe I can buy both the ship and its cargo. If the Directorate sends the ship to rescue us from a long passage, well, that can balance the service we did for the Mountain King. If they owe anyone for the Tenth Star it's Vinden, not me. And as I said, your excursion in the Pela was a way of repaying you for saving our lives on several occasions. So what I'd like to do is simply buy a ship and cargo from the Directorate.'

'While I'm sure the Directorate could supply a ship and cargo we could now afford with Min's generosity; I don't think it's necessary. We've little need for credits. Think nothing of the credits involved. It's a way of expressing their regard for you. You'll owe them nothing.'

'I believe you, Botts, but, well, I'm an irrational human, so I would like to pay for the ship and goods. And since I can easily do that, it'll keep our relationship in balance.'

'Have our shipmates agreed to this?'

'It's not necessary. I'll have you know, Botts, I'm far, far wealthier than even you can imagine, assuming, of course, this is what I've been told it is,' I said, drawing out Captain Miccall's ring and handing it over to Botts. 'Look through the small opening in the inside.'

It brought the ring up to its eye/sensors and examined it for fully a minute. I was beginning to get worried it had become lost in the gem's dark maze. And then it turned to me.

'This would seem to fit the description of a darq gem.'

'I was told it is one. A small one, but authentic. Is the Directorate familiar with them?'

'The Directorate is aware that 27 of them are said to exist within the Unity. There are rumors of others, but just rumors. However, even prior to the revolution, no sentient machine has had an opportunity to examine one. Their value means that they are very closely guarded by their owners. Indeed, some machines suspect that they do not exist at all, save in the imagination of fiction writers, and the fantasies of, as you say, fabulously wealthy individuals. And yet...' it seemed, for once to at a loss for words.

'And yet, a tramp ship captain casually hands one to you. A small one, but seemingly authentic one. It certainly has the rumored effect on me.'

'How?'

'How did I obtain it?'

'Aye...'

I told him my tale, concluding with, 'So you see, this is the situation that I've been holding it in trust for. It is the ideal solution, for the gem itself is a very dangerous item. My life, or the life of anyone I turned it over to would be in great danger should word get out one way or another. And quite frankly, how one could safely turn it into credits, is beyond me. So by turning it over to you and the Directorate, it serves its purpose of securing our future, while solving the problem of safely disposing of it by using it to buy a new ship and cargo. If, of course, the Directorate would accept it as payment...'

'Its value far exceeds the value of the proposed ship and cargo.'

'Let's not quibble, Botts. If I had to turn it into credits, I could expect only a tiny fraction of its ultimate value, so the ship and cargo would likely be worth more than what I would've obtained from selling it – without the danger that selling it would likely have entailed.'

After a long pause, Botts said, 'The Directorate agrees to your offer to exchange the ring for the ship and goods. While they believe the value of the gem in human society far out weights the goods they are offering, they find that they cannot turn down a fabled darq gem. I can tell you this, Captain, after bringing to their attention both a darq gem and the Tenth Star, not to mention the wyrm weather and dark dragon's phenomena that you've given me the opportunity to study, you have become the Directorate's favorite human. I get the sense that they are eagerly awaiting what you turn up next.'

'A rather dangerous honor, Botts. Still if all goes as planned, unless the Directorate is curious about the intricacies of growing and processing cha leaves, they're going to find my next explorations rather boring.'

'Oh, I rather think the new and strange things you come across are tied in with your karma, Captain,' it replied with bright eyes.

'You're just trying to scare me.'

'It's the karma, Captain. But, back to business. As for the ship and gem, the Directorate will credit you with the balance of the value of the gem, minus the value of the ship and cargo once the value of the gem has been agreed to. In this way neither party will feel that they owe or are owed anything, and both parties can continue to operate on the basis of friendship. If that is acceptable to you. '

'Excellent. Yes, of course, with one proviso – divide any remaining darq gem credit evenly between all our crew members since it isn't my gem. I was merely holding it in trust for my ship's and shipmates' benefit. It has haunted my sock drawer for years and now that it is to be used as it was intended, I feel rather liberated. Perhaps now we can lay the ghosts of the Four Shipmates finally to rest.'

08

You would think that after being captain of this packet for a decade or more – depending on how you care to count the years – I'd be able to issue an order and expect it to be obeyed. Well, I'll admit I didn't issue all that many of them, so they may've been taken aback a bit. But still their resistance to my plan to return to the Pela was uncalled for. I didn't let it deter me. I was walking in Captain Linnor's boots now. She had a cargo to salvage to redeem herself, and I had a cold-blooded killer not only to bring to justice, but to see that he didn't kill everyone else I knew and loved. In the end, the gang had no lift to hold me back – I was buying the Raven's gig out of my share of Min's gift and if I wanted to take a jaunt in it while they put the ship back together, I could – since I was its captain and could do as I Neb-damned pleased. And if I wasn't its captain, I could still do as I pleased, we weren't close enough to sailing that I couldn't sign myself off.

'I'm not a fool. I'm not out for blood. And I will be very careful and cunning,' I exclaimed, far from the first time to Illy. 'I don't plan to go charging in and demand that Vinden be brought to justice. My plan is to secretly contact Ten aboard the Raven. I can ping the Raven's automatic distress response radio with an encrypted message without tipping my hand, even if the other ships intercept it. From my experience aboard the flagship, I'm sure that a micro-burst radio signal would go unremarked, if it was even noticed. Once I've made contact, I'll send along the vids of what Vinden did to his old employees and his ship, and we can plan how to deal with Vinden's inevitable betrayal. I don't even have to show my face.'

Illy sighed. 'I know you, Wil. I've all but raised you. Grandma M'Risha notwithstanding, you're too Unity Standard to deal with the likes of Vinden. He'll hand you your head on a platter if you try to tackle him. As he has in the past,' she added sharply.

'Not every time,' I countered, remembering that dart to his hand. 'And I've no intention tackling him by myself. I just want Ten and Vyn watching him like a hawk. And well, if they should happen to hit him over the head with a spanner and shove him out the air lock when no one's looking, so much the better.'

'That's what you say now...'

'Trust me. I know my Unity Standard limits. But I also know my Unity Standard responsibilities as well. I can't leave old shipmates to the cold-blooded whims of Vinden. Not when I've the time to do something. I have to live with myself, Illy. And I can't just do nothing and live with myself. There's a knot in my chest of anger and guilt that'll choke me sooner or later...'

'Have you checked it in the med bay?'

'Yes,' I replied steadily. 'I have. There's nothing wrong with me but a sense of right and wrong.'

She shook her head. 'No. There's more to it than that...'

'Save your breath. My mind is made up. I'll be back in less than twelve days. If not, leave without me and I'll find my own way home to the Unity. You'll know where to find me...'

'On a white beach...'

'Or high in the misty blue-green peaks amongst my cha trees.'

### Chapter 77 A final Word

And with that, we've come to the end of Captain Wil Litang's journal. A very unsatisfactory ending. And, I'm afraid, there's little I can do to make it any less so.

I'm only aware of it because he stored this memoir on the captain's accounting system rather than on a private drive, where I happened upon it in the course of my duties as captain. I suspect this was intentional, though that's anyone's guess. He never mentioned his memoir, but he'd have known – if he'd thought about it – that as acting captain, I'd eventually come across it. I suspect that there are things in here he wanted me to know, but could not tell me unless he didn't return.

He clearly began with the idea of publishing this account as a window into the everyday life aboard an interplanetary freighter. It seems to have evolved over time as more of a memoir, filled as it is with his private musings. Still, from some of his comments, he remained intent on publishing it some day, but, of course, not all of it. Even if we overlook his account of Min and his, well, romantic encounter – I always knew he had it in him to win her if he cared to – his full account of the Pela would certainly not have gone beyond this record, and even this private record verges on being ill advised.

I guess, I won't worry about it now, I'll just bring one copy along when we exchange the ship for the SilverStar liner and he can decide what he wants to do with it when we cross orbits again. I will, on the chance that we don't cross orbits again, add this brief foot note.

The first day he was allowed out of the medic bay, he took a tour of his ship. Most of the damage was to no. 4 hold and the awning deck. The meteor that had holed us, made a complete shamble of our treasured awning deck, destroying most of the view-panels and the dining salon in the process. Only the fact that the rock was partially deflected by the reinforced bulkheads of the no. 4 hold's strong rooms prevented it from gutting the entire ship. I pointed that out and added that while a lot of the sleeper-pods stored in the storeroom had been damaged, our dogs' and cats' pods had survived, which cheered him up for a while. Most of the other damage was to the equipment located between the hulls, damaged by dents and small holes in the hull, repairs that would keep us busy for several weeks, but repairable. We'd lost several of our balancing rockets, yet again, and the entire bow of the ship is a twisted wreck, leaving the ship fit only for the flats of & Kin. I think the sight of his ship, illuminated by the surviving cargo lights of no. 3 hold as we circled the ship in the gig, pretty much broke his heart.

He tried to act like before, but then, we'd catch him when he was quiet and he wasn't the Wil Litang we'd known these many years. Really, he hadn't been the same since his assassin had been taken by Vinden. He blamed himself for that – it was as if he'd killed her. And well, I'd been there, so I knew how much it affected him. Four days after he was on his feet, he announced that he was buying the Rift Raven's gig – which had been left behind when we took in the old flier – and was going back to the Pela to warn Min and hold Vinden to account. I've no doubt his stated reasons were true – as far as they go. Since we had enough work to keep us busy for two, or even three more weeks, before we could sail comfortably, he could do so without causing a delay. And well, as captain, he could do as he pleased, so we had no way to dissuade him, though Illy and I did our best. We said he still had treatments to take, but he countered that he could take them aboard the gig. We suggested that he take someone along to get the gig through the shell-reef – Dici or Sar would've jumped at the chance – but he refused. Botts would pilot the gig remotely until he reached the Pela where he'd lost radio contact with the ship.

He ordered me to wait two weeks and then to depart when repairs permitted and logged me in as 'acting captain'. I said it was dangerous, Vinden would never allow him back. He said he'd not get within missile range of Vinden. All he need to do was to contact Ten with the evidence of Vinden's treachery. He seemed to have a sensible plan, and well, short of mutiny, we couldn't stop him. Despite his grimness, his was clearly not a suicide mission. Suicide missions were not Wil's cup of cha. As he would tell you himself, he was far too cautious for anything like that. He was determined to find that cha garden in the mist and settle down to grow the Unity's finest cha once we returned to the Neb.

He departed and Botts piloted the gig through the shell-reef and to the fringe of the Pela proper. He said he was unable to reach the Raven so he was going on to Redoubt Island. And yes, he'd be very cautious. When radio communications became too intermittent for Botts to pilot the gig, and Wil took over, and once again ordered me to sail in two weeks or as soon as our repairs were complete. I assured him that as acting captain, I would operate just as he'd taught me over the years. He warned me not to do that, but to obey the letter of his final order, this one time. But, as I said, radio communication had become intermittent, and I didn't catch that over the static. Which annoyed him.

I waited the required two weeks and when he failed to return, Dici, Sar, and I took the ship's gig into the Pela to see if we could discover, well, what, I don't know, and do something – if something needed doing.

We also were unable to contact either Wil's gig, or Tenry on the Raven while in the inner space. When we arrived at where Redoubt Island should have been, we found that both the island and the fleet had vanished without a trace. They simply were not where our charts had them. We searched for both, and a day later, after picking up a weak radio signal, we found the gig's battered black box embedded in a great tangle of vines amongst some jumbled islands along with several pieces of debris, likely from the gig. The black box offered little insight as to what happened. It seems Wil had actually landed, I presume on Redoubt Island, since the timing would've been about right, opened the hatch and less than ten minutes later, closed it again, only to be followed within seconds by a violent episode that took the black box offline without providing any additional information. We spent two days searching the islands in widening circles without any sign of Wil or any other debris, until I very reluctantly concluded that my duty now lay with my shipmates and my ship and that I needed to return to the ship.

And so, with repairs completed and Botts at the helm, we've started our long, long journey home, without Wil Litang.

'Wil is the luckiest spaceer I've ever known,' said Illy softly, finding me alone and crying in the ship's office shortly after my return. 'I'm certain we'll cross his orbit again, a decade or two from now, likely on one of Belbania's white sand beaches, with a tall glass of iced cha at hand.'

'Yes, of course. I'm sure you're right,' I sniffed. 'Hopefully not as Sunny Day.'

Illy smiled. 'A chance we'll have to take.'

Wil Litang was no more superstitious than most spaceers. Most spaceers are very superstitious. I know that one of Wil's greatest fears was the luck he ascribed to his success, would some day either run out or need to be paid for. I know he did what he could to pay for that luck, but I can't help but wonder, here – wherever here is – in the absolute blackness of the great sea of space, if his luck did, indeed run out.

It's time for me to find my sleeper-pod and turn the ship completely over to Botts, until we emerge from this black reef. I'll put these black thoughts down to the loneliness of the time and place. Hopefully when I awake the Nebula will be burning brighter than it is at the moment.

\--- Molaye Merlun, Captain (Acting), Starry Shore Nee Lost Star and a dozen other names

The Adventures of Wil Litang continue in Volume Two of the Lost Star Stories!

### The Lost Star's Sea

Available wherever fine ebooks are sold.

For more information on this release please visit my blog at: C. Litka's Works in Words Blog

You might also enjoy my other books:

**A Summer in Amber** A post-apocalyptic, steampunkish adventure/romance set in Scotland after a series of powerful solar storms has thrown the modern world back into the 19th century.

**Some Day Days** A new adult romance/science fiction story set in Oxford and Cambridge prior to the solar storms that set the stage for **A Summer in Amber.**

Available wherever fine ebooks are sold.
