CHAPTER

NINE

Aboard Vanguard,
Adelaide Group

Adelaide Group, when they reached it, lay beyond the usual trade routes Vatta serviced. Its ansibles were functioning, shortening the response time of the local officials and giving Ky access to a business directory for the various settlements. She was startled to find that Crown & Spears had no branch here; she had grown up believing that Crown & Spears was everywhere, like photons and gravity. She looked at the list of other financial institutions and wondered which to choose. Perhaps the locals could give her some advice.

Unlike the other systems Ky had visited, here humans lived only in space, on huge stations positioned near the ring system of a gas giant. Humans was a term of choice in this case, as most were humods whose modifications suited such a life: geeners, in fact, who had been genetically engineered for it from conception—which was entirely artificial. The first face Ky saw on the com screen bulged with what she hoped were implants, the nose was a spongy-looking blob, and the two eyes did not match. She hoped she didn’t look as startled as she felt.

Yet their response to the plight of Dryas’ passengers was as warmly human as Gretna’s had been cold and inhumane.

“Of course they can come,” the system Traffic Officer told Ky. “We’ve been trading with Polson for over a century. It may be hard for them at first—I’ll talk to our medical people, but I’m thinking they’d be best on Tria—it’s the station where most lowmod visitors prefer to stay. Give me a few hours and I’ll have the Tria Council give you a call.”

Ky would not have considered the Polson humods “lowmod,” but to other humods maybe they were. She could imagine what the Gretnans would have thought of Adelaide’s citizens.

Tria’s Councilor Malroy was just as cordial when she called. “We have plenty of room; we’ll just shift some of our people to Qadro.”

“That’s not a problem?”

“No—we have plenty of room and we enjoy moving; it’s bred in us. But tell me—we’ve never heard of the SDR,” Malroy said. “Who are you—some kind of mercenaries?”

“No—we’re not for hire,” Ky said. “We’re part of a military force—Space Defense Force—made up of units from worlds that understand the threat is greater than any one system can handle. This particular unit has ships carrying three flags, as our beacons show.”

“Ah. We’re a bit off the beaten path; we don’t hear much. Is the threat really that great? Do you know if any other systems have been attacked?”

“Bissonet fell to these people,” Ky said. “Polson as well. Slotter Key was attacked but—at last report—still holding.” She was not going to explain all that had happened at Slotter Key. “The Moscoe Confederation—you may have known of Cascadia?—hasn’t been attacked yet. But the ansible service—”

“—is down in many places. Yes. We thought maybe it was a natural phenomenon—some kind of flare or something.”

“No, it’s definitely sabotage, probably by the same group that attacked Bissonet and Slotter Key, though we can’t prove it yet. Our unit’s main mission—besides fighting the pirates anyplace we find them—is to recruit additional systems to support the SDF. It’s going to take a lot of resources to defeat them; they have a solid head start.”

“We don’t have a space navy, per se,” Malroy said. “A lot of our people have private vehicles…we have small insystem search and rescue craft, and some traffic patrol craft, but we haven’t had to worry about piracy much…nothing beyond the occasional single idiot who thinks he can rob our miners.” From her tone, she thought of pirates as dull-witted ruffians.

“I’m afraid all civilized people are going to find a reason to worry soon,” Ky said. “This is no ordinary pirate.”

“I don’t know how we’d find and train a real deep-space warship,” Malroy said. “I suppose we’ll need to hire someone…you’re not for hire, you say, but if you know how we could…what we could do…”

Go back ten years, twenty years, and start over… but saying that wouldn’t help. “You might contact other governments, the ones you can reach,” Ky said. “Talk to them, find out what they’re doing.”

With that conversation over, Ky considered whether—no, when—to call Stella. Stella would be worrying, wondering what had happened since Ky had left Cascadia. When Ky checked the calendar, she was shocked…115 days? A lot had happened, but it hadn’t seemed that long. Stella might even think Ky was dead, and she’d probably be as angry about the delay as relieved that Ky was in good health. What had she been doing? Was Vatta Transport making any money yet?

That thought led to the state of their supplies, and Ky decided to wait until she had a shopping list before contacting Stella. A few days’ more worry surely wouldn’t make Stella’s reaction worse. In the few days before they docked at Tria, Ky put together a list of everything her group needed.

“We’ve got to do something about that air lock damage,” Hugh said. “Engineering say they can’t do a permanent fix themselves—I see there’s a repair yard listed here.”

Another money sink, Ky thought. And how long would it take? With no Crown & Spears branch here, with no large stash of valuables…should she try to sell off one of the shipboard ansibles? If only she hadn’t been in such a hurry to get away, she might have figured out a way to make the Gretnans pay for the damage they’d done. She’d gotten supplies for the refugees out of them; she could have gotten some sort of reparations. But at the time she’d been so disgusted and angry…

“Contact the others, put together a package, and get estimates, including scheduling,” she told Hugh. “With the system ansible working, I can contact Stella. Maybe she can help.”

He was back all too soon. As Ky had feared, the estimate for repairing all three ships was more than she had. “They gave us a good deal,” Hugh said. “In consideration of our good works, apparently, they cut ten percent off the original.”

“I just don’t have it,” Ky said. No conceivable value of the remaining diamond stash would cover this and the other things they needed. Repairs would have to wait. Her engineers said the patches were holding…they could hold a little longer.

A few days after docking at Tria, Ky was still juggling figures when Malroy called her again. “We have talked more to Dryas’ captain and we have thought about what you said. Though we have no warships to contribute, we know that fleets need supply and other types of ships. We could contribute such a ship—in fact, Dryas’ captain would like to give you Dryas.”

Dryas would be filthy, Ky knew, and need a crew, and anyway the refugees needed something to offer in exchange for the help they were getting from Adelaide. What she really wanted was help with the repairs. But a ship was a ship. Maybe she could sell it to pay for repairs, though it didn’t seem likely that Adelaide Group had a large market for ships. Maybe Stella would want to take it for Vatta Transport and pay for some of the repairs in return…

Before she could answer, Malroy went on. “We would clean the ship and provision it for you. Dryas’ captain said he would be willing to command, if you were willing to have him. And some of our people have already volunteered for crew.”

“That is most kind,” Ky said, with an internal sigh. She couldn’t sell the ship off if they were doing so much to make it useful for her. “We could definitely use a supply ship, and though I worried about finding a crew, you have solved that problem, too.”

“It is no more than your actions deserve,” Malroy said. “We were shocked at the perfidy of Gretna Station. We have traded there in the past with no problems, but we will not trade there again.”

The other captains were less pleased about the new ship than Ky expected. “We’ll have to protect it,” Argelos said. “It will slow us down.”

“I don’t think so,” Ky said. “It should make resupply faster. We can send one escort in with it, fill it up, and then transfer goods at safe distances from stations—or in empty systems.”

“Maybe,” Pettygrew said. “But how will we know none of the crew are Turek’s agents? Are you going to vet them all?”

“I’m going to have my security check, yes,” Ky said. “We do have to assume that not all volunteers are safe. I understand that.”

“Would you like the use of my adviser as well?” Argelos asked. “I don’t know who you have, what their background is.”

“A former Slotter Key military man with security experience,” Ky said. “Backed up by my second in command—you’ve met him—who has mercenary experience closer to this sector. But if your adviser finally wants to let me know who he is…”

“He’s not eager for that, but he wants to be in on any security screening.”

“And I would like to contribute someone as well,” Pettygrew said. “I believe that we, being from Bissonet, may have some very useful background.”

“There is the matter of courtesy,” Ky said. “We should be tactful in our investigation. But I believe the locals will understand the need for our caution.”

Ky explained their concerns to Malroy, who nodded. “Of course, after the terrible events, you would want to be sure you had no vermin in your system. We will make available space and clerical support, if you need it, for your investigation. Can you give me a list of personnel who will be involved? And you yourself, I would like to meet hand-to-hand.”

“Of course, though I can leave the ship only briefly,” Ky said.

Malroy was a cheery, round-faced individual with the usual microgravity humodifications: lower limbs ending in branched tentacles, upper limbs divided at the elbow with one pair of hands and another set of tentacles, these specialized for sensation of chemicals, magnetic fields, and other useful bits. In addition, she had an artificial “eye” in her forehead and a cranial crest suggesting a larger and more elaborate implant than those Ky was used to. She met Ky in a lounge designed for transients who were comfortable in higher gravities: though it was less than Ky was used to, she did not bounce off the floor with every step, and her clothes hung where they were supposed to without tugging on the adhesive tabs.

With Malroy was Captain Partsin of Dryas. He still looked gaunt, but less so than he had onscreen when they left Gretna. He strode forward to clasp her hands in his. “My dear Captain Vatta…we had always heard of the honorable Vatta Transport, but truly I never expected that I and so many others would owe our lives to your courage and generosity. My own ship is small, a very tiny gift to repay that generosity, and I would hope that it will enable you to win this war against the pirates. You have my thanks and the thanks of our remaining people. I understand your need to question some of them who wish to serve as crew, but I hope you will understand that they do not have all the documentation that they should, because of the conditions under which we evacuated. Those of my crew I can personally vouch for.”

“Thank you,” Ky said. “You are certainly more than generous, and I do understand about evacuees…though you know why we must be careful. My second in command, Hugh Pritang, and Gordon Martin, my security chief, will be joined by the security officers of our other ships.” She gestured Hugh and Martin forward. “I believe the others will be here shortly. You had an office or other space?” She glanced at Malroy.

“Yes. Would you prefer to wait for the others or come with me now? It is in the same gravity as this.”

“I should return to my ship,” Ky said. “With all respect, with Hugh here, the captain needs to be aboard.”

“Of course.”

On the way, Ky stopped in at the local bank Malroy recommended to inquire about financial transfers.

“We have a relationship with Crown & Spears, of course,” the manager said. “We respect them highly, and we will be pleased to handle any funds transfers from or to them. The financial ansible here has had no problems in the last twenty years—before that, you’d have to ask my predecessor.”

“My cousin is CEO of Vatta Transport,” Ky said. “I know our routes never extended this far, but I hope you’ve heard—”

“Certainly, certainly. Well, I hope to be hearing from you soon, Captain Vatta.”

Ky intended to call Stella when she got back to the ship, but the temporal chart revealed that local time on Cascadia Station was 0200; that gave her an excuse to delay another few hours until first-shift, the usual business day. In the meantime, she noted that Cascadia’s searchable directory gave both home and office numbers for Stella Vatta; Vatta Transport, Ltd. was listed as well. To save money, she chose the audio-only option.

“Vatta Transport, how may I help you?” said a pleasant voice.

“Ansible call for Stella Vatta from Kylara Vatta,” Ky said.

“Just a moment…” A soft tone replaced the receptionist’s voice, and then Stella’s voice came through.

“Ky! Where are you? Are you all right? What happened? Why aren’t you full-band?” Stella sounded as much annoyed as worried.

“I’m in Adelaide Group,” Ky said. “It’s a long story, but I’m fine, just somewhat short of funds. How are you? And Toby?”

“Things are going well,” Stella said, more calmly. “I’ve established a new headquarters office; we have five ships, now, counting Gary Tobai, which I have out on contract doing insystem runs here. The Kat was able to make contact with our ship on the Garth-Lindheimer run; they’ve accepted me as CEO, for now, and they’ll be contacting all the Vatta ships they cross paths with. It looks like the most damage to Vatta was within five jumps of Slotter Key.”

“That’s good, I guess,” Ky said. “Of course, most of us were within five jumps of Slotter Key.”

“We’re not making a profit yet,” Stella said. “Not from shipping, at least. But it’s not a gaping wound in the accounts, either. So what are you doing way over in the Adelaide Group? What happened with those people you were going to…see?” The pause was significant.

“It’s a long story, not all good, but I’m alive and the ship is whole. I’m traveling now with two other warships, Sharra’s Gift from Slotter Key and Bassoon from Bissonet; we escorted a shipload of refugees from Polson here.”

“Refugees? From what?”

“Attack on Polson,” Ky said. “Oh, and don’t let any of our ships go to Gretna.”

A pause while Stella accessed her implant. “Why not? Mildly shady, is what I have in my file. Check all bills, inspect all replacement parts.”

“They’ve gone from mildly shady to inshore piracy and trafficking in human lives,” Ky said. “I bought eighteen indentured workers—”

“You bought them? Ky, how could you! That’s illegal—and horrible!”

“Not as horrible as what they faced. Bought them and freed them, of course. But that’s part of my cash-flow problem. I’m guessing Gretna’s economy tanked when the ansibles went out and trade dropped. Whatever the reason, they’ve gone rogue: they take your money, then try to take your ship and sell you for slaves.”

“You’re serious…”

“Very. Anyway, they wouldn’t even let the refugees have food and air. I forced the Gretnans to provide the necessities, but I couldn’t leave the refugees there. So we escorted them here; they said Polson and Adelaide had been trading partners before. Adelaide Group’s not on our routes now, but they seem to be good people, so if someone has a hole in the schedule—”

“What do they have to trade?”

“Mostly low-grav manufacturies. Pharma and things like that. Oh, and humod adaptive devices; most of them are serious humods, engineered for low-grav and rapid-change environments; they need assistive devices to function well in what we call normal.”

“I’ll look into it,” Stella said. “Can you zip me their directory?”

“Right away,” Ky said. She called it up and sent the compressed version on sub-audio. “How’s Toby?” she asked.

“Toby’s fine. In fact, Toby’s a raving genius. You won’t believe what he’s come up with.”

“He’s trained Rascal to do ansible repairs?”

Stella snorted. “Not quite. Better. He’s making more of that very interesting cargo we found—”

“The shipboard—”

“Yes,” Stella cut in. Ky could hear the irritation in her voice. But it wasn’t a secret; the pirates at least knew about shipboard ansibles. Before Ky could say more, Stella went on. “He’s already made one, and he’s made some…improvements. Apparently all that time he spent with Rafe, he was soaking up everything Rafe told him. That, and native ability. We can certainly market these, if ISC doesn’t stop us.”

“Or use them as our competitive edge,” Ky said. She hoped Stella wouldn’t give it all away before they made a profit off it, if Toby really had pulled it off.

“Or use them as our competitive edge, yes,” Stella said. “Rascal, by the way, has earned his keep for the rest of his life…Toby’s education is taken care of already, and Rascal’s picture’s all over the place. Apparently he’s superfertile with the local female dogs, and they’ve confirmed pregnancy in one hundred percent of the inseminations.”

Ky laughed. “I realize this helps our bottom line, but there’s something just a little ridiculous about being saved from financial ruin by a scruffy little dog we pulled out of a trash bin.”

“Well, you saved the scruffy little dog,” Stella said. “Remember all those fairy tales in our children’s books, when the hero was the one who helped the little animal stuck in a trap or whatever?”

Ky started to say that real life wasn’t a fairy tale, but refrained. Maybe it was, after all.

“So,” Stella went on. “Tell me what’s going on with you, besides rescuing some refugees.”

“It’s been…interesting,” Ky said. “We now have a fleet. Well, a small fleet. Multisystem, since Vanguard’s now Cascadian registry; there’s also one Slotter Key privateer, and one Bissonet former space militia. What he’s told me is that while Bissonet always claimed they didn’t have privateers, they actually did. They called them militia, though, and their trading capacity was limited.”

“Yes, but what happened? You and that Argelos fellow left Cascadia together—”

“Right. Well, you remember that Bissonet was taken—”

“I know that—”

“Argelos had located three Bissonet ships together. They had heard about my idea of combining forces, and they wanted to try it. Originally we had three of them, Argelos and me, a ship from Ciudad, and one from Urgayin, I think it was. We went to an empty system to do some training, which made sense—”

“You were commanding, right?”

“No.” Ky sighed. This was going to be difficult. “There were three Bissonet ships, remember? Their senior officer insisted that command belonged with the greatest contribution—in other words, she wanted it. And I agreed, because I cared more about the idea than about the power.”

“Mistake, was it?”

“Yes. She may’ve been good before—one of the other ships claimed she was—but she just didn’t know how to command this kind of group. She alienated the man from Ciudad. One of the ships didn’t show up—and it turned out to have been a plant, someone working as an agent of the pirates. He told them where we were. Didn’t know that at the time, of course. I was worried, but she wasn’t. Short form is, they ambushed us, and she didn’t have a clue how to get anyone out alive. I’d been discussing it with Argelos, just in case—and we lost the battle but three ships came out whole: mine, Argelos’, and one of the Bissonet ships, commanded by a man named Pettygrew.”

“Ky…I don’t know how to ask this, but…are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“I got three ships out alive when they all thought they were doomed. My tactics. My commands.” Ky’s throat tightened, thinking of those she hadn’t been able to save, and Captain Zavala’s courage in coming back to warn them all.

“I believe you. I just…people are going to die, Ky, because of commands you give. Are you ready for that?”

“It’s already happened,” Ky said. “And I’ll never be ready, and I am ready now.”

“All right. I’m still terrified, you know. You’re the only real Vatta of our generation left, that I know of.”

“You are as real a Vatta as I am,” Ky said. “And this would be a lot easier if I’d been Osman’s daughter, wouldn’t it? It fits better.”

Stella’s voice trembled a little. “Yes…and I guess I have to get over it.”

“I guess you do.” Time to get back to realities. “I tapped out the Vatta accounts at Gretna; in fact, Crown & Spears gave me a line of credit so the authorities couldn’t claim I hadn’t paid all the fees they added on at the last moment. I resupplied there, before they tried to get it all back, and we need repairs soon, for the damage done there. You’ll have to start linking accounts again.”

“Well, if Adelaide Group is as useful as you’re saying, I can extend a route there—maybe Gary Tobai. Can you establish a corporate account there before you leave?”

“I set up one for our fleet,” Ky said. “I’ll have Adelaide Central Bank send you the account information and let them know you want one for Vatta Transport.”

“You could contact me using our…uh…family code.”

That had to mean by the shipboard ansibles. “Oh. You’re right.” How to tell Stella that she’d made changes to the shipboard ansibles, that the original settings would be known to the pirates? “I didn’t want to use a channel the pirates might pick up on; we modified ours to use different ones, but yours isn’t.”

“Toby thought of that, too. He said it was something you’d need. Wonder if we have the same new channels…”

How to convey them without risking discovery? Were the pirates monitoring routine ansible transmissions? Or those to a Vatta family member? Ky rummaged through her implant looking for some concealing data that Stella might also have. “Stella, your implant has the list of family birthdays and ceremonies, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, why?”

“That channel thing…your mother’s, month and day; my oldest brother’s year and day.”

“Oh! Yes. I’ll tell Toby and see if those are the same, and if not, I’m sure he can modify it to fit.” A pause, then: “Ky, I’m really relieved to hear from you…I know I behaved badly before you left Cascadia, and then I thought maybe you were throwing yourself into danger because of that—”

“No, Stella, please—it wasn’t that.”

“We’re just—there’s so few of us left. And I know I’m doing the right thing with the company, but…Toby is just not enough, if you know what I mean.”

“Me, too,” Ky said. “Stella, I meant what I said then. To me, you’re always family. Always. It doesn’t matter how far apart we are.”

“Well, before I start sniffling like a kid,” Stella said, “I think we should end this conversation. I’ll contact you in a few days, if I don’t hear from you first, to let you know what I can send. It’s such a relief to have real, functioning ansible service!”

“That it is,” Ky said. “Later, then.”

She arrived on the bridge in time to see the entire bridge crew staring at the external vid monitor. “What in the world is that?” Hugh asked, staring at the screen, where a steel-blue ship with a bright gold stripe down its long axis and some kind of curly gold lettering on the bow was easing toward its docking space. “I’d say a yacht, but it’s too big for that.”

Ky looked at the message marker coming up on the armrest of her command chair, tapped for access, and grinned.

“It’s the Courageous, and its captain says they’re Ransome’s Rangers,” she said. “The other two are the Furious and the Glorious. They want to join up with us.” She put up the video they were sending. On the bridge of a ship—presumably the same one—several officers in light-blue-and-gold uniforms with white facings stood watching over the instruments; crew in light blue shipsuits scurried about busily.

“They look like an operetta chorus,” Hugh said. “One of those old revivals with the brave young soldier and the pretty dancing girl the prince falls in love with.”

“They are a bit gaudy,” Ky said. “On the other hand, they are ships. We don’t have anything that size or that speed. They’ve got excellent scan—light on weapons, as you’d expect…”

“Do you really think all of them together could take down one pirate?”

“Possibly,” Ky said. “At the least, they might make a pirate die laughing.”

“You’re actually thinking of signing them on?”

“Not necessarily.” From the data they’d sent, she couldn’t tell if it was a joke or a serious offer. “I will talk to their commander. Apparently he’s filthy rich and organized this bunch all by himself. That alone makes me suspicious, but on the other hand, Vatta used to have dozens of ships and we weren’t pirates.”

“No, and you weren’t dressed up like stage performers and pretending to be pirate hunters, either.”

“I’m just going to talk to them, Hugh. Promise.”

“Well, be careful. You’re taking security, right?”

“Of course.”

Their commander was as handsome as his screen image, though his coloring reminded Ky unpleasantly of Gretna. But Theodore Albert Driscoll Ransome was as cheerful and open as the Gretnans had been dour and sly. Tall, his shock of honey-colored hair flopping over one side of his forehead, he moved as flamboyantly as he spoke.

“Captain Vatta! In reality as I live! What an honor to meet the hero of Sabine!” He flung out an arm and bowed low.

Ky had to think hard to figure out what he meant; Sabine was many crises back in her personal accounting. “Oh, that,” she said finally.

“Your modesty becomes you, but I insist, it is an honor to meet you at last.” He gave a half shrug, and his captain’s cape swirled out dramatically. “Together, we shall do wonders; together we shall free the universe of this scourge of pirates.”

Together, Ky thought, they could sound like a primary school play.

“We have a long way to go,” she said. It sounded flat after the man’s flowery language, but she couldn’t match his tone even if she’d wanted to. “Are you prepared to stay the distance?”

“Oh, death and glory by all means,” he said, grinning. “Trumpets shall sound and if we fall maidens will throw roses on our graves—”

“If we fail, those maidens will be dead or slaves,” Ky said. “This is not an operetta.”

He blinked. “Well…of course. I understand that. It’s only…there’s no harm in…in seeing ourselves as heroes, don’t you think?”

“There’s no harm in it as long as it doesn’t affect performance,” Ky said.

“Oh, no danger there. No danger at all. My people are more efficient in pursuit of honor than anything else. I chose them for that.”

Could anything so handsome, so decorative, so…so enthusiastic…possibly be useful? Ky wondered. Behind her, Martin stirred; she knew without asking what he was thinking of this…popinjay would probably be the kindest term he’d come up with.

“Tell me something about your experience,” Ky said.

He smiled broadly and settled himself on the edge of his seat, like a dragonfly about to take off again any moment. “It all started with Grumnos. You won’t know Grumnos. It’s a moon of one of our gas giants in my home system, and about a century ago the prisoners—it’d been used as convict exile—overthrew the guards and wardens, stole some supply ships, and began preying on commerce in our system. It was more of a nuisance at first—they’d just hold up a ship for ransom, or steal some food, and the government decided that putting it down would cost too much.” He gave a dramatic shrug.

“But then it got worse, as rascals always do if you don’t nip them in the bud, and about five years ago some of us decided to take care of it ourselves. My friend André and I bought a couple of ships—my Glorious and his Triumphant—hired some mercs for crew, and by the time we were done…well…” he dusted his hands. “No more pirates on Grumnos. And it was a ripping good sport, hunting pirates, we decided. André and I set up the Rangers and invited our friends to fit out their own ships and join us. Our government agreed to pay us a bounty for every pirate ship destroyed. For a while, we had very few outland pirates—I imagine they heard about us…” He smirked; Ky wanted to laugh but didn’t. “But then some nasty types showed up, first one and then two. We fought them off, not without casualties. Poor André was killed when a beam took his ship, but I am assured he would have had time to feel nothing, not that fear ever touched that noble heart. But then…then it was I heard about the vast pirate horde assailing distant systems, and it seemed to me the best way to protect my own was to meet them there, at a distance, and with allies whose courage and honor matched our own. I believe you, my lady—Captain Vatta—are such an ally, one I would be proud to die with—”

“I would rather they die,” Ky said. “But I thank you for the compliment.”

“Our ships are small, but our hearts are great,” he went on, gesturing magnificently; Ky still could not think of anything but the more melodramatic stage productions. “You and I together—against the foe!” He looked at her then as if he expected applause for the rhetoric and delivery.

Would he and his ships be any use at all? Surely some use—even if only as scouts or messengers—but what a risk if he proved not to be honest.

“I’m somewhat concerned about the lightness of your ordnance,” Ky said. “We expect to be up against groups of the enemy. When you and…er…André fought the pirates, were you using multiship tactics, or…?”

“Well, we did read about standard tactics, of course,” Ransome said. His voice sounded calmer now, as if—having delivered his set speeches—he was actually capable of normal conversation. “But as you say, our ships are small—what some space navies called escort size, as you noticed. We don’t mount as much ordnance as the standard tactics called for, so we pretty much had to make it up. Our speed’s an advantage, and our smaller size means we can do microjumps in and out of FTL closer to large masses than bigger ships. I’ve installed the best available navigational computers, and our drives—insystem and FTL both—are top of the line, of course.”

“I’m sure,” Ky said. She wasn’t, not until she’d seen the specs. Top of the line in one system might be mediocre in another. “How did you see your contribution to our organization?” she asked.

“Oh, we don’t expect to be part of the regular fleet,” he said. “We’re more suited to independent action, I would think. Can’t expect my people to knuckle under to an outsider, y’know.”

That didn’t sound good. “You would need to train with us to be much use,” Ky said. “Wouldn’t want to be running into each other, fouling each other’s shots, that sort of thing.”

“Quite,” he said. “I do understand that. I was thinking, size of our ships and all, we could be useful as couriers, as scouts, and in cutting-out expeditions.” That was a term Ky had never seen applied to space warfare. The rest was along the lines she’d already thought of.

“Tell you what,” she said. “You need to meet my other captains, and I need to meet some more of your people. What you’re offering sounds very generous, but you know how it is—people are either going to get along, or not.”

“How about a dinner?” he asked. “Or a party?”

“I think we captains should meet first. A quiet dinner, perhaps.”

“That would be great…I could host…no, you probably want something on neutral ground, don’t you?”

“Adelaide Station has several good restaurants in the standard-gravity sections, and there’s always the Captains’ Guild,” Ky said. “We can reserve a private room—”

“Splendid! I’ll tell my fellows. This evening, or is that too soon?”

“Let me check with Captain Argelos and Captain Pettygrew,” Ky said. “If their schedules allow, this evening would be fine.”