As her small fleet moved slowly to the outer reaches of Adelaide System, Ky sent Ransome's Rangers to scout out three different systems within a one-jump range. She didn't expect to find pirates in any of them; it was more a test of the Rangers' ability and willingness to do what they were told—and of the ansibles' performance across much greater distances.

The Ranger ships jumped out as soon as they had cleared the mass limit; Ky did not expect to hear from them for days. She had ordered all the larger ships to move slowly so that there would be ample time to receive reports before reaching the mapped jump point. Five days later, Furious reported from its target system. The ansible signal was as clear as if they were alongside; the report, as she'd expected, was of an empty system with a single relay ansible, nonfunctional. Ky put a note in the navigation tables and told Furious to return to the group. Courageous reported in only twelve hours later, with the same news, and Ky called them back as well.

Glorious had gone the farthest: it was the direction Ky wanted to take the fleet, heading back toward the area where Vatta had trade routes. In the navigation database, that system was also uninhabited, with a relay ansible now off-list. Because of the six-day jump lag, a report from the system would be at least twelve days out of date before they could arrive, but Captain Ransome still needed the practice in using the shipboard ansible. His report was the same as the others: empty system, as expected.

Furious reappeared in Adelaide System; Ky watched the scan as Captain St. Cyrien dumped excess velocity, microjumped to realign his vector, and reappeared precisely where she had asked him to go.

"Very neat handling," she transmitted to him.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said. "Have you heard from Teddy?"

"What we expected. He should be back here within the next twelve hours."

Courageous also reappeared on schedule, and came into position neatly on their other side. Finally, only two hours from their planned jump into FTL, Glorious reappeared.

"Great news, Captain Vatta!" Ransome looked indecently boyish as he threw her an elaborate salute. "There's no problem at all. In fact, you have friends there—"

"Friends?"

"Yes. Mackensee Military Assistance Corporation just arrived as I was getting ready to jump out. I have their transition profile if you'd like to see it. We also picked up a bit of chatter. They're going to be training there. Brilliant of you to anticipate where they'd be."

Ky blinked. She'd had no idea Mackensee would be training in that system.

"Did you contact them?" she asked.

"Oh, no. You said we should act as scouts, and scouts should not announce themselves—or should we have?"

"No, you did quite right," Ky said. "Though you could have contacted me by ansible with that update." She noticed that Ransome's crew had moved Glorious quickly into position with deft microjumps. These little ships might prove useful after all... "Their scans probably picked you up, but if you were on the way out they might have ignored it."

He made a dramatic gesture. "I should have thought of that—they wouldn't have known if I'd used the ansible. I was thinking they might intercept, and we were being scouts, so I shouldn't risk being overheard."

"That's all right," Ky said. "It's a new technology to you; you'll think of it next time. We're about to jump out, then, if you're ready."

"Quite ready, I assure you. Mapped point to mapped point, it's exactly six point three days of FTL transit."

"Switch to Channel F, then," Ky said, and gave the order to the other ships. "We want to exit with low relative velocity," she said to them all. "Captain Ransome reports that Mackensee Military Assistance Corporation is training in that system; they will have their own scouts out, and we don't want to be attacked as pirates before we have a chance to explain. I'm going to assume that—despite Captain Ransome's care—they might have spotted his outbound jump and might have planted mines at the jump point. Synchronize navigation computers—" She hoped this would work with ships of such disparate mass. No reason why it shouldn't, but...

They reached transition simultaneously, and during the next six days of FTL isolation Ky kept her crew busy. If they were to meet Mackensee in that system—if the MMAC ships were still there—she wanted to present a military appearance without, however, getting killed out of hand.

They all emerged from the jump point within seconds of one another, still in formation. Ky heaved a sigh of relief as the last ship reported in, even before scan cleared. "Captain Ransome, detail one of your ships to stay with our transport," she said. She could not leave the unarmed transport with no protection. "Everyone else, formation Zeta-blue, but slowly—when your scan clears, watch for mines."

The mines showed up when scan cleared: five clusters, spaced to allow lanes between them for those who either knew the locations or were slow enough, with good enough scan, to avoid them.

"Is that Mackensee's standard toss-out?" Hugh asked her.

"I don't know," Ky said. "But it's not like what I saw at Sabine. Of course, I didn't have the scan capability then that we have here. It's an effective distribution, though..."

Other scan data came in; at first glance the system was full of ships of all sizes and types.

"Mackensee?" Ky asked.

"No. The Mackensee ships are there—" Hugh pointed. "They've got clear beacons; they're not hiding who they are. These are something else. That new software you loaded thinks most are bogeys—drones, signal emitters, stuff tossed out to be confusing. There's at least four actual ships, but with fogged beacons, which doesn't look good. And microjumping—here—here—there. Looks like an attack pattern to me. They've pincered the Mackensee ships..."

Ky's mouth went dry; she swallowed. "Pirates, then. Attacking Mackensee—they'll get a surprise—"

"Maybe not. Look at the numbers." Whatever they were, they outnumbered the Mackensee ships at least two to one, and when the weapons analysis came up, they outgunned them as well.

Ky hit the alarm. "Whatever it is, it's trouble," she said. Lights flashed for alert status; she saw the boards light with acknowledgments from Weapons. Number one battery was first, as usual.

"We jump out?" Hugh asked.

"Not yet," Ky said. "I want to know what's going on."

"There's more of them than us," he pointed out.

"I know," Ky said. She was not going to repeat the mistake she'd made with Osman. Ship ID beacons began to register. "Mackensee," Ky said. "The two together there—" She pointed. "I know that beacon logo."

"Right," Hugh said. "I recognize it, too. But who are the others?"

"They have shipboard ansibles—they've got to be the enemy." Her stomach tightened into the familiar knot. "And they weren't expecting us."

Clearing scan showed that four of the enemy were in the same attack formation they'd used before, their ships converging from either side, both pairs in echelon, with the Mackensee ships at the crossing of the X. "Tactical conservatives," Hugh said.

"And we're in position to hit them on the flank," Ky said. If she wasn't being rash again; if she wasn't missing something deadly. This time she had to get it right. "Except for those—"

She indicated the other icons, still marked UNKNOWN TYPE, UNKNOWN ORIGIN.

"Those may not be ships," Hugh said. "Like I said, we used to get scan data like that from drones or from holos. They don't carry ID beacons, drones. They're just there to be scary."

Ky eyed them suspiciously. "I'd hate to discount them and then find that they're firing up my tail."

"True. And there are such things as towed arrays, or armed drones. But considering the way they're arranged, I think they're fakes. What's our mass detector say?"

"We're too far out still." Ky chewed her lip. Four pirates against two Mackensee ships...the Macs might fight free; they were certainly capable, as she knew. And she had no duty to them. On the other hand, she did have a duty to destroy the enemy, as long as it didn't mean losing her own ships. And she had wanted them as allies. "If those other icons are harmless drones or fakes of some kind...we'd make it five to four, not even counting the little ships, and I know the Mackensees aren't going to sit there doing nothing."

"Battle stations?" Hugh asked.

"Yellow only," Ky said. "We have hours to go before we're in range, and I don't want to jump until we're well clear of the mines and sure we aren't jumping into worse. I hope Mackensee can hold out that long. Signal the others with the new code." That now seemed a brilliant idea. Her spirits lifted. They had tactical surprise, secure communications, and a superior position. "We can take them, and if we get Mackensee on our side—"

"Crossing fire," Hugh warned her.

"We're far enough out to track it and avoid it," Ky said. "We can define their plane." The X-attack made things simpler for the attackers, who knew exactly where their own fire would go, but a third party could attack from off-plane, avoiding the original shots and also the intended victim.

She explained her plan to the other captains, who agreed with her analysis. "Three to four's not bad odds," Argelos said cheerfully.

"It's five to four in our favor, really," Ky said. "Not even counting our scouts. The Mackensee ships will fight, and fight well. We do have to let them know we're on their side, though. And we can't really communicate with them until we're close enough for lightspeed to make sense. In the meantime, they have no reason to believe our beacons are honest, even if they notice us in the confusion."

"When do you think the pirates will notice us?"

"Depends," Ky said. "This isn't a heavily used transfer jump point, so they may be concentrating on the Mackensee ships. And"—a thought suddenly hit her—"if they're monitoring their drones or holos or whatever those other signals are, their scan tech may be too busy to notice new signals in the system. I wonder why the Mac ships aren't moving faster—"

"Already disabled?"

"Or they had personnel on EVA," Ky said. "If they were on a training mission, practicing EVA, they'd want to recover their personnel before they moved."

"That just makes targets out of 'em," Hugh said. "They can get roasted by passing fire..."

Vanguard and Bassoon had military-grade microjump capability, but Sharra's Gift did not. Argelos could jump his ship only in longer hops, with less precision. Ky made a mental note to find out what it would take to bring his ship up to military specs—later, maybe much later. Now she considered the relative advantages to keeping her little group together, and decided it was worth the risk to disperse them. "We can talk in real time all the way across the system," she said. "There's no reason for us to stick close. If we can position Sharra's Gift on the exit side of their attack, to take them in the opposite flank—"

"Crossing fire," Hugh said again.

"Different plane," Ky said. "If we're all above their plane, our fire will cross, but not on one another, nor theirs on ours."

"Right," Argelos said. "I can make that in one hop, pretty close. I think, anyway." Ky hoped he was right.

"And we can come in with short hops," she said to Pettygrew. "Here's where we want to end up." She pointed to the display. "With any luck, they'll be too busy monitoring their own decoys or drones, and we'll be able to blindside them."

"What about us?" Ransome asked. "Where do you want us?"

Where he and the others wouldn't interfere, but she couldn't say that. "We need someone watching our backs," she said. "Furious has to concentrate on the transport; we need someone watching our backs and also helping to trace weapons tracks. But you're so maneuverable, I want you close enough to get off some shots if needed. I'd like Courageous here"—she pointed—"and Glorious there."

"Do we announce ourselves, or just hope that the Mackensee ships assume we're friendly?" Argelos asked.

"When we blow their attackers, I think they'll get the picture. But I'm planning to tell them as soon as we're close in, to less than a one-light-minute range. Oh—and have your communications personnel check the channel we know the pirates use, at least twice a minute. If you pick up anything interesting, record it and pass it on later."

"Attention all ships." Ky had no way of knowing if any of them would pay attention to the broadband hail, but someone would hear it. "This is Space Defense Force, Third Fleet, First Squadron. We recognize ships of Mackensee Military Assistance as under attack by unlawful forces, and we order you to desist or be fired upon." By the time the pirates heard that, her first rafts of missiles should be impacting their shields. Mackensee, she could see, were firing bursts of missiles, but only one of their ships seemed capable of using a beam weapon, in short bursts.

Sharra's Gift reappeared on scan, almost perfectly positioned. Ky had her communications tech monitoring the pirates' ansible channels, and a burst of incomprehensible jargon came from the ansible.

"I think they heard us," Ky said. She nodded, and Hugh changed the ansible to their private setting.

"Captain Argelos, do you have a firing solution?"

"I do," he said. "My primary target is the number one first crossing the X."

Ky nodded to her own weapons officer. "Get 'em, Dannon."

Their forward beam weapon stabbed out, raising a flare on the shields of the nearest enemy ship just as its shield and the second in that echelon sparkled with the impact of their missiles.

"Not getting through," Hugh said.

"Not expecting to yet," Ky said. "This is to get their full attention off the Mackensee ships..."

"Space Defense Force—who the hell are you?" That came from a Mackensee ship. "This is MSS Metaire, Colonel Kalin commanding. Who's your commanding officer?"

"A combined force formed to defend against the common enemy...the pirates commanded by Gammis Turek," Ky said. "We have representatives of various planetary systems..." Never mind that one of those systems had been destroyed, one was an exile, three were wild-eyed adventurers, and her own ship's Cascadian registry did not really represent the Moscoe Confederation's support.

"You're on our side?"

"Yes. You're legitimate," Ky said. "They aren't. Excuse me a moment..." She turned to her weapons officer. "Phase two, shall we?"

"But who's commanding?"

"I am," Ky said. It was harder than she'd expected to say both that and her name in the same utterance. "Kylara Vatta," she said after a pause. Then quickly, before he could comment, she said, "Can you maneuver? I notice you're near drifting."

"Troops outside," he said. "We're trying to bring them back aboard, but this way we can at least offer them some protection." A pause, then, "Are you that Kylara Vatta? The one who—"

"Yes," Ky said.

"I see. Talk to you later." And the contact cut off.

On the display, the battle shifted abruptly from what had seemed like the easy destruction of an outnumbered static force by a larger mobile one, as the pirates realized they themselves were caught in a pincer formed of the Mackensee ships and Ky's force. Though Ky could not understand any of the commands their commander gave, it became obvious that they considered the Mackensee ships' missile batteries less dangerous than the others', and they tried to close in enough to use the Mackensee ships for a screen.

But Ky had anticipated this; she and Pettygrew both microjumped in much closer. Close in, Vanguard's missile launchers achieved a rate of fire Ky would have thought impossible, hammering at the pirates' defenses. Shields on the nearest pirate ship brightened to an actinic flare, and the next launch sent a hundred into her unprotected flanks. The optical monitors blanked; others indicated hull breach, fragments blown wide...

"That's not going to be going anywhere," Hugh commented. He sounded calmly pleased.

"Good," Ky said. "Though I wouldn't mind if we disabled one and captured it."

That ship's partner decelerated abruptly.

"Not the maneuver I'd pick," Hugh said.

"Me, neither," Ky said. "The debris cloud will be broader when he reaches it. I think he's hoping to duck it, but it's not going to work."

One of the pirate ships ran full into the barrage Metaire had launched shortly before, and its shields flared. "I'm on it," Pettygrew said. He pursued, and a salvo up the bustle breached the after shields. The resulting explosion indicated that at least one insystem drive had blown. The ship yawed, then began a sickening tumble.

"Lost their stabilizers," Hugh said. "Probably lost all insystem, and all internal power...talk about vomit comet..."

"Is it reparable?" Ky asked.

"By a good shipyard, yes. Jury-rigged, probably not. It'll never go through jump."

"Might as well blow it, then," Ky said. "It's a navigation hazard as it is. Too bad; I'd have liked another armed vessel." She looked at Hugh.

"You're right," he said. "It's too bad, but I don't see any way to get it repaired out here, not with our resources."

Ky nodded at Dannon. "Forward beam." The beam stabbed out, finding the tumbling ship, and a few seconds later it exploded in a cloud of debris.

The fourth pirate ship, disabled, drifted on its way. Ky sent Ransome to keep watch on it. "Stay out of its range," she said. "If we can capture it whole, it'll be useful, but we don't want trouble while we're waiting." If the pirates had contacted their friends by shipboard ansible—and she was sure one of them at least would have—trouble might drop in at any time.

For the moment, though, her concern was for the battered Mackensee ships. She contacted Colonel Kalin aboard Metaire.

"Can we assist?" Ky asked.

"Do you have medevac capability for zero-gravity, micro-atmosphere situations?"

"Er...not much," Ky said. Her medical personnel had been reading the manuals and working on simulations, but had no actual experience. "We have medical personnel and supplies, but not expertise in EVA work, though they've been doing simulations."

"Then no, you can't. You can keep any more trouble off us, though, if you would. Verain's holed. Internal damage. She's not going anywhere..."

"If you need crew space," Ky said, "we have room."

"We prefer to take care of our own people," Colonel Kalin said, a bit stiffly.

"Understood," Ky said. "We'll take high guard."

She moved her ships back, except for the transport, which might prove useful. Her scan crews mapped the expanding debris fields and the tracks of live weapons. Though missile drives would run out after a few minutes, the missiles themselves continued as live warheads.

Recovery of personnel outside the ships took agonizing hours. Verain's captain reported worse news: both insystem and FTL drives down, several onboard fires, no power to deliver the fire-retardant foams. The weapons bay crews shoved unused ordnance out the hatches as fast as they could, racing the approaching fires. Finally the captain ordered his crew to abandon ship...and most made it into shuttles or onto the rope tows before the ship blew.

Ky felt helpless and guilty both as they stood off listening to the mounting damage and casualty reports, watching for more trouble that never arrived. Meanwhile, she sent Argelos to the drifting pirate hulk.

"Definitely some hostiles alive aboard," Argelos reported. "We can pick up the transmission of short-range communicators. Nothing on the ansible—I'm hoping its power source is down; it should be. Can't understand what they're saying, though, except for a word now and then. Wait—they're using regular ship channels now...they want to surrender."

"Do they indeed," Ky said. She called the Mackensee ships. "Colonel, the remaining pirate ship is disabled but whole, and they want to surrender. Could you make use of that hull?"

"Chances are they'll just ambush any boarding party," Kalin said. "And I don't have the resources to use right now. We certainly could use the space, if the hull's airtight, but you blew the engines, didn't you?"

"I don't know the full extent of damage," Ky said. "But I don't want to leave a shipful of pirates loose, even if they seem to be disabled now."

Kalin grunted. "I must say, Captain Vatta, that you saved our skins, and I'm grateful. And your tactics were competent. So I guess it's up to you. You're a privateer, aren't you? You'd claim her as a prize?"

"I was a privateer," Ky said. "Now you might want to think of us as another military unit. And you have need. If that ship would be of use to you, and if we can capture it without undue loss, I'd certainly let you use it to get back to a system where you had resources. Then, yes, our force could always use more ships."

"I don't know what advice to give you," Kalin said. "And from what I've heard about you, you don't always take advice."

"True, but I'm listening," Ky said.

"Well, then." From his expression, he was trying out approaches, discarding them. "It's very, very tricky, doing a hostile boarding. I know you've been boarded once—"

"Twice," Ky said.

"All right. The advantage is with the defenders, usually. They know their ship best. And that ship's tumbling, which is going to make it harder. You don't know how big the ship's company is, so you don't know if they're all out, even if you get some of them to evacuate onto tethers. They've had plenty of time to set booby traps, too."

"So your recommendation would be to blow it away?"

"Ordinarily, yes: without hesitation. But you're right: we are short of space, especially with our wounded. We expect a resupply force in about fifteen days, but until then—"

"Colonel, we have a transport ship insystem; she's not fully loaded, and there's space aboard her you could use."

"Had you planned to be here that long?"

"I was planning to do training exercises here, the same as you were."

"Did you know we were here?"

"Just before we jumped, one of my scouts reported that he'd seen your ships in the system, and nothing else. It was just over a six-day jump. I didn't know if you were about to leave, had just arrived, or what—but I didn't consider you hostiles."

"I see. If you can take some of our personnel aboard until our other ships arrive, that would be a big help. And if you have extra medboxes and medical personnel—" He turned away for a moment. When he turned back, his shoulders had slumped a centimeter. "Our casualties are very high, Captain Vatta. Any help you can give—"

"Of course." Ky spared a thought for the remaining pirate ship. With her people out there watching it, it wasn't going to cause trouble, and the casualties were more important. The plight of the pirates themselves didn't bother her at all. "Tell me where you want the transport: I don't want to cause more trouble."

He gave her the system coordinates; Ky passed them on to the transport, and then ordered Furious to stay far out and keep watch over the jump point.

"Do you expect more pirates?" Captain St. Cyrien asked.

"No, but they didn't expect us," Ky said. "And anyone down-jumping there is in danger from those mines. We may have to blow them up..." Which would create a debris field wider than the minefield, but a lesser hazard. Only weakly shielded tradeships would be at risk of a hull breach or serious damage.

Their supply ship, unable to perform precision microjumps, followed Argelos' pattern to place itself within a few hours of the location Colonel Kalin had requested, then edged in with insystem engines.

The first shuttle load of Mackensee personnel that eased up to Vanguard's larger air lock swam the tube with helmets sealed. Ky waited for them herself, with armed guards beside her. Friends they might be, but she was not a naïve space cadet anymore.

The first person into the ship had a row of stripes on the suit arm and PITT stenciled on the helmet. Ky fought back a grin. This was entirely too good to be true.

"Master Sergeant Pitt requests permission to come aboard—" Clearly, Pitt was having the same trouble; the corner of her mouth twitched.

"Permission granted," Ky said. "I understand you have three wounded with you?"

"Yes, ma'am. They're coming through next."

"Chief Martin will escort them to our medical facility. Our medical staff is set up and waiting. You and the rest of your personnel will be in our starboard crew compartments. Sergeant Crayle will guide you—" She gestured to one of her escort, who stepped forward. "I'll be in to speak with you later, when I've reported to Colonel Kalin about the status of your wounded."

"Thank you, ma'am," Pitt said, saluting. She stepped aside. Next out of the transfer tube were the wounded, in enclosed litters; Martin led them away. Ky, glancing through the transparent shields, tried not to show what she felt. It was one thing to imagine what being hit by projectiles when outside a ship might mean...quite another to see the human wreckage up close. She followed the last of the litters to the medical suite they'd set up.

Here, her medical teams had already opened the first seal; the stench of blood and burned flesh and bowel contents filled the compartment until one of the techs lowered the exhaust hood.

"I'm a combat medic," one of the Metaire crew said. "Can I help?"

"Scrub in," one of her own crew said. Ky flattened herself to the bulkhead as the other man came by.

"Down that way; spare jumpers in the locker."

Of the three injured, two went immediately into medboxes for supportive care while the medical team worked over the third. Ky stood by, making sure she was out of the way, until all three had been treated and her team had handed over the medical data Kalin's people would want. Then she headed for the bridge to talk to Colonel Kalin.

"They're all alive," she said. "I'm transmitting the files to you now."

"Thank you," he said. He looked drawn; Ky multiplied what she had seen in her own sick bay by...however many casualties there'd been...and understood. "If only we hadn't had so many out in EVA. Now—where did you people come from? And why?"

Ky started in again. "We jumped in from Adelaide System. Our scout—you should have his beacon as Glorious —had reported the system empty except for your two ships."

"And that was about twelve days ago, you said? We have a brief scan contact from back then, but no hail. The enemy...you say you know who they are?"

"You don't?" Ky asked.

"No. Never heard of pirates attacking armed ships like ours before."

Ky summarized what had been happening.

"They've taken whole systems? And we don't know...oh. Yes, of course, the ansibles being out. They must be part of that, too..."

"Possibly," Ky said. "Certainly they're making good use of communications being disrupted."

"So...who's paying for your bunch? The...um...Space Defense Force or whatever you're calling it? Organized pretty fast, wasn't it?"

"It's multisystem," Ky said.

"Yes, but the last I heard, Slotter Key's ansible was out...so how did they let you know they were in on this?"

"Colonel, I'm not comfortable discussing this kind of thing over an open connection, even with scrambling. My scouts don't think there's anyone else in this system, but what if there's a stealthed observer ship somewhere?"

"I see your point. All right. We'll talk later, in a more secure location."

Down in the starboard crew area, Pitt and her people already had their area ready for inspection. Sergeant Crayle had shown them the mess area, and Ky found them cleaning up after a meal.

"Officer on deck!" Pitt called out, and the others all came to attention.

"At ease," Ky said. "Have you found everything you need?"

"Yes, ma'am. Nice ship you have here...bit more than the other one."

"Thanks. It's a repossession; this ship was stolen from Vatta decades ago, and I got it back."

"Yes, ma'am, I did hear something about that. Was a pirate ship, wasn't it?"

"That's right. I re-registered her, after we got her cleaned up and refitted. Good to see you again, Master Sergeant Pitt."

"Good to see you in the role you were meant for, ma'am, if I may be so bold. 'Specially since we really needed some help out there."

"Wish we'd been a bit sooner," Ky said. "What happened to your sentries?"

"Blown away before we knew it. They knew exactly where to look, apparently. First I heard, it was 'Abort exercise, return to ships.'"

"So...there's probably an observer here somewhere. Stealthed...we haven't spotted anything..." The suggestion she'd made to Kalin, because she didn't want to discuss the tenuous nature of the Space Defense Force, might have teeth.

"Almost certainly. And a spy at our last stopover, too. Not that our people are loose-lipped, but we went into the Powdern jump point with the right vector to come out here. It's only got the two endpoints, where we'd come from and this one."

"Come up to my office with me for a bit," Ky said. Pitt sent her people back to work and followed Ky. When they reached the office, Ky waved her to a seat and sat down herself, behind the desk.

"Nice," Pitt commented, glancing around.

"If it was a spy where you were, communicating with someone here, where the system ansible doesn't work, how do you suppose the message went?" Ky asked.

"Is that a trick question? Without an ansible, it would have to be..." Pitt's expression changed. "It's...it would be impossible."

"Yeah," Ky said. "We're all so used to universal ansible access—to having real-time communication—that the implications of not having it can slip by. If there was no working ansible where you were—Powdern?—and no working ansible here, then a spy there couldn't communicate to ships here. Without another kind of ansible."

"But there isn't another kind of ansible," Pitt said. "Everyone knows that...oh." She stared at Ky. "There is? And you know about it?"

"The pirates have a way of communicating instantaneously across interstellar space," Ky said. "It's a ship-mounted ansible."

"But that's...everyone's always said—"

"It's impossible, yes. But it's not. It's technology that the ISC tried to keep under wraps. I don't know how it got out but it did, and it explains the coordination of the pirate attacks."

"It would," Pitt said. "Real-time communication in combat? Fantastic." Then her expression changed again. "You...certainly showed up in time. How do you know about this?"

"When I captured this ship, it was full of all sorts of goodies," Ky said. "Among them, sixty shipboard ansibles. One mounted ready for use, the rest crated and ready, I presume, to sell or hand over to the other pirates. At that time I had aboard an ISC agent, who just about came apart when he saw them. He knew what they were, and what they did, and he wanted to impound the lot."

"I'll bet he did," Pitt said.

"However, I persuaded him that if the man who'd run this ship had them, the tech was already out of the bag and couldn't be stuffed back in. I refused to turn them over or destroy them."

Pitt cocked her head. "You have grown up a lot, you know?"

"It's been an interesting time," Ky said. "What you don't know is that most of my family is dead."

"What?"

"Someone—I think this same group of pirates, in collaboration with someone in the government of my home planet—set out to destroy my family and my family's business. My parents and siblings are dead, along with many others; ships and crews were attacked as well as the corporate headquarters and some of the homes."

Pitt looked stunned. "When did this happen?"

"Shortly after I got back to Belinta...about the same time the ansibles started going out. I didn't find out about all of it until I got to Lastway." Ky shook her head. "Not a good topic of conversation, actually, but yes—I've changed. Not entirely...for the better."

"I wouldn't wish that on anyone," Pitt said. "But I'm damned glad you showed up when you did."


"I want you to go back and tell your commander about this personally," Ky said. "I don't want to transmit it over conventional radio."

"He's not expecting me back," Pitt said. "I'm supposed to take care of our people here—"

"Will he let you come back, d'you think, if I tell him I'm sending you with an urgent message?"

"Probably. But why don't you go? Or send one of your own crew?"

"He knows you," Ky said. "He knows of me, but he knows you—"

Her office com binged. "Captain, Captain Ransome wants to speak to you. Shall I patch it through?"

"Go ahead," Ky said. To Pitt, she said, "Ransome's someone we met on Adelaide. I'm using him and his ships as scouts." She tilted the vidscreen so Pitt could see it.

"Captain Vatta!" Ransome's broad grin went with the tone of delight. "Guess what! We found the observer!"

"Where?" Ky asked.

"At...uh..." He turned, and someone handed him a note. "24-893-2217. Fully stealthed, as you suggested, and transmitting on its own ansi—" He stopped, seeming to notice Pitt for the first time. "—thingie," he finished. "Anyway, we...er...we recorded it, and we stripped the beacon, and I just thought, you know, we could blow it away if you like. It's quite close, well within our range—"

Pitt was staring at the screen with an expression of horrified fascination. "What—"

"Just a minute," Ky said. "Captain Ransome, do I understand you to say that you have stripped that ship's beacon?"

"Oh, yes. Neat as an oolun sucking a pinkfish off the hook."

"You are aware that they will know their beacon's been stripped?"

"I don't think so," Ransome said. "We were very careful. You said you didn't want—"

Losing her temper would accomplish nothing at this point. Ky fought it down. She hadn't told them to go looking for the observer, but she hadn't told them not to. She'd told them to go about their business...and for Teddy Ransome, that meant sneaking up behind stealthed enemy ships for the fun of it. "Do you think you could ease away without being detected?" Ky asked.

He looked hurt. "I could...but where's the fun in that? Why can't I just blow it away? I'm in the perfect position."

He was in the perfect position to be blown up himself if he didn't get out of there, Ky thought. If she didn't blow him up herself. "We may have need of it," she said instead. "We're not getting any other prizes out of this, you know."

"Oh." His face sobered briefly, then returned to that expression of glee. "So...if I offered to buy you another ship the same size, then could I blow this one away?"

Ky just managed not to let her jaw drop. "I...suppose so," she said finally. She glanced at Pitt, whose face had gone unreadable again, though she had a very intentional glint in her eye. "Go ahead then, Captain Ransome." She closed the connection and put her head on her desk for a moment, then looked up at Pitt.

"And I thought you were a potential loose cannon," Pitt said. "Who is that decorative character and why are you having anything to do with him?"

"His name's Theodore Albert Driscoll Ransome," Ky said. "He and his friends—who all have long names and about as much sense as wild rabbits—got together in their personal ships to hunt pirates in their home system."

"He is good looking," Pitt said. "If you like that kind."

Ky scowled. "What matters to me is that he has three ships with superior speed and maneuverability, he's richer than stink, and he's willing to use his ships and his money to help us. I don't care about his looks."

Pitt gave her a long look, then nodded. "The major thought you were too susceptible, but I can tell you're not. Not now, anyway. Is he trustworthy?"

Ky shrugged, still a little annoyed that Pitt might think she'd been affected by Teddy Ransome's looks. "He went where I told him to go, and did what I asked him to do during the fight," she said. "I haven't known him long enough to assess his long-range reliability. I suspect, though, that he'll stick it out as long as it's exciting and suits his sense of adventure, and then go do something else."

"I've seen that kind before," Pitt said, nodding. "They can be useful cannon fodder as long as they do what you tell them." She looked around again, as if assessing the décor. "So...you want me to convince my commander that this marvelous technology exists and...and what?"

"See if he wants it," Ky said. "By the way...Teddy's forty-seven point three light-hours away. Did you notice any lag?"

"He was what? That's...a long way."

"Yes. And you know this system's ansible isn't working."

"Can you confirm the distance?"

"Your own scan can do that," Ky said with a shrug. "I agree, the timing of his call was convenient, but he's out there."

"Can you just call our ship on that thing?"

"No. Each node has to have a unit, and ships are movable nodes. That's how it was explained to me."

"Can it interface with system ansibles?"

"Not at present. Our units can't. But I don't expect that to last, frankly. And if the pirates get that technology before the rest of us—"

"—we're all in serious trouble. All right. I'll need to call and get permission to return."

"I'll take you up to the bridge," Ky said. "Tell him I'd like to talk to him about this, and other things," she added. "But when we're in a secure location."

"I'm sure he'll be interested...though you still haven't answered his question about who's footing the bill for this Space Defense Force we never heard of before...surely not the gallant Captain Ransome...?"

"That, too, is something I'll want to talk to him about," Ky said.

Pitt shook her head. "With all due respect, ma'am, you are getting entirely too canny for one of your tender years."

"Captain Vatta!" That was Ransome again, this time with his mop of blond hair in an untidy muddle. "I am delighted to report that the observer ship has been immobilized without injury to Glorious or her crew."

"Immobilized?" Ky asked.

"Well...in a way. I know you would like another ship, and so we...er...fired our EMP mines at her, the whole salvo. She fired back, but our anti-missile missiles intercepted most of theirs and our shields held against the rest. And now she's dark—not transmitting at all, not moving."

"That may not last," Ky said. "Some ships have self-repairing AI systems."

"I know...I was going to ask your permission to board and secure her."

"Board—! How big is she?"

"Larger than Courageous, but not as large as Vanguard," he said. "My crew have done hostile boardings—we took back ships from those criminals in our system." From his expression, he might start saying Please, please, please! any moment.

"I can't stop you," Ky said, "but I don't want to lose you or your crew, and I can't spare one of the larger ships; we're all involved in recovering Mackensee casualties. Do you think you should have Furious or Courageous over there?"

"If you could release Courageous, that would be perfect," he said, brightening up. "Just in case..."

"Go ahead, then," Ky said. "But keep your scans on. Just because you found one—"

"—doesn't mean there aren't others. I understand, Captain Vatta."

Ky called Metaire on tight-beam and spoke to Colonel Kalin. "In about forty-eight hours, you'll pick up warhead detonations here—" She recited the coordinates. "One of our people out there found a stealthed observation ship and immobilized it. They're trying to board; I'll keep you informed."

"Master Sergeant Pitt's told me about your...uh..." Ky could see the struggle to find another word. "We do need to talk, Captain Vatta. Assuming Master Sergeant Pitt's report is accurate, there are...um...both tactical and strategic implications..."

"Indeed there are," Ky said. "But since this is not a secure location, I think that talk should be deferred to a better place and time, where we can demonstrate the object."

"You would not consider coming aboard Metaire?"

"Would you consider coming here? I am not comfortable leaving my ship while the situation is so uncertain."

"Point taken. No, I can't come. Our regulations forbid my leaving my command."

"We both know Master Sergeant Pitt. I would like to use her as a courier, if that's acceptable. I realize she has duties to personnel, but—"

"It's acceptable."

"Good. I'll be sending along some tactical analysis you may not have yet, and some suggestions based on that, for your consideration."

Ky looked at the system plot as she waited for Pitt's return. If a large pirate force moved in, they were clumped too close. "Move Bassoon out," she told Pettygrew. "If trouble jumps in, we want to be set up to defend Metaire as well as ourselves. I need to stay physically close for a while, because I'm using a courier to share sensitive data."

"Right," he said. "We'll keep an eye out. What's Ransome up to?"

"Let me get Argelos on, too—" Ky waited until Argelos come into the contact. "Ransome's found and immobilized a stealthed observer ship," she said to them both. "It was transmitting on the pirate channels; he's stopped that. Now his crew and the Glorious crew are trying to board and capture it."

"He's an idiot," Argelos said. "A shipful of pirates? It'll be a disaster."

"Well, he's done all right so far," Ky said. "It seemed worth a try to me. If he gets the ship relatively undamaged, we'll have a chance to learn more about the tech the pirates had."

"More than Osman left you?"

"I don't know how close Osman was to the power structure of the current bunch," Ky said. "It's said thieves fall out with thieves, and certainly there wasn't stealth tech aboard Vanguard. We need to beware any others; they might have had more than one."

"Right," Pettygrew said. "I'll keep a careful watch."

"Kalin expects a relief group of Mackensee ships to show up in...what is it now, ten days? Anyway, I'll find out if we need to do something about those mines at the jump point. I know we mapped a safe route through, but if they come in fast—"

"What about trying to fix the system ansible? It's only a relay; maybe its inbox is just stuffed."

"We don't have Rafe," Ky said.

"No, but I've got Dozi Lattin. She thinks it's possible she might be able to unstick it, if it's something simple like that."

"You can try," Ky said. "But the watch is more critical right now."

"Understood. We'll just ease up to it and see what she thinks."

Pitt arrived back within the hour, on a shuttle with more wounded and a senior sergeant to take over as NCOIC of the contingent billeted on Vanguard.

"The colonel thinks you're part brilliant, part crazy, and part scary as hell. That's a direct quote, ma'am," Pitt said, handing over a hardcopy packet. "And he told me to say that."

"What I am now is hungry," Ky said. "How about you?"

"No thank you, ma'am. I ate when I came aboard, you'll recall. But I don't mind waiting while you—"

"Good." Ky turned to Hugh. "Hugh, have them send something light to my office, please. And patch my office comunit through to the ship's ansible again. I need to check on Ransome."

By the time she and Pitt got to her office, a tray with soup and a pile of sandwiches was on her desk, along with a carafe of water and another of coffee. Ky flipped open the packet Pitt had handed her and sipped from the mug of soup. Colonel Kalin had given her his main concerns: time insystem until the other Mackensee ships arrived, the mines at the jump-point entry, the possibility that more pirates would arrive before the relief ships did...

"How likely do you think another incursion is?" Pitt asked.

"Less likely now than before," Ky said. "Their observer will have reported that their forces were wiped. If they'd won...they might have brought in more to attack your other ships when they came. Of course, they may see this as a chance to attack us. Metaire's suffered some damage, expended a lot of ammunition—and no, I'm not asking how much is left. It's not my business. But I'm guessing that full as she is of wounded and overcrowded with the rest of the other crew, she won't fight at her best."

"That's true, unfortunately." Pitt sipped at the glass of water Ky had poured her. "So that leaves your three larger ships and the little ones...what's happened to Ransome's boarding attempt, by the way?"

"I don't know. He hasn't reported in. I'll check now." Ky turned to the ansible, entered Courageous ' code, and the screen lit with the face of a crewman.

"Captain Vatta," he said. His gaze slewed sideways, clearly to another screen on the bridge. "Captain Ransome's not here..."

"He left the ship?" Ky said.

"Yes, ma'am. He led the boarding party, like he always does."

Ky managed not to say what she was thinking; Pitt's expression said it for her. "I see," she said instead. "Do you have any word on the progress of the boarding?"

"There's resistance," the man said. "Uh—but they just now got through an air lock—"

"You will keep me informed," Ky said.

"Oh, yes, ma'am. As soon as they take the ship, I'll let you know."

Or as soon as they didn't, and were dead. Ky closed the connection. "That idiot," she said, shaking her head.

"Cannon fodder," Pitt said. "Brave, though. I hate hostile boardings, myself."

Ky finished reading the material Kalin had sent. "I've put together a packet for you to take back," she said. "And it does not escape my irony detector that we are sending messages by hand in an era when instantaneous universal communication is—was—common."

"Well...it's secure if no one takes it out of my hand, which no one is going to do," Pitt said. She took the packet Ky handed over, slid it into a pocket on her suit. "If I could just make the suggestion, ma'am...I know some very reliable people in my unit, and we could spread this duty around."

"I know," Ky said. She had, in the course of reading Kalin's report, finished the soup and eaten half a sandwich. Her mind felt as if she had just walked through a veil into clear air. "I was just—a bit fuzzy. Tell me who you'd like to have on the job; I'll accept your assessment."

"It'll keep my people busy if we rotate it. When you call for a courier, someone will be there."

"Captain Vatta! Captain Ransome wants you to know that they're in the ship but resistance continues!"

"Thank you," Ky said.

"He'll let you know when he's completed the capture," Ransome's crewman said.

"Tell him to watch out for people dropping out of the overheads and coming up through the decks," Ky said.

"How did you—he said something about that."

"It's what I did the last time we were boarded," Ky said.

"Oh...I'll tell him," the man said, and cut the connection.

"The last time you were boarded?" Pitt said. "When was that?"

"Gretna Station, before we went to Adelaide. They've got a nasty little scam going: first they charge the earth for dock privileges, local identification, and air, and then, just as you leave, they attack. Their idea, as near as I can tell, is to get back everything they sold you to resell to the next unfortunate, hand your ship over to the pirates, and take your crew as indentured workers on trumped-up charges. And in the meantime, your credits are in their account."

"Slavers," Pitt said.

"Good as," Ky said. "My medical team came from there—medical personnel on their way to some kind of meeting, sold as general labor."

"You bought them?" Pitt said, looking horrified.

"It was the only way to get them out," Ky said. "Freed them as soon as they were aboard, of course; some elected to stay in Adelaide, but the ones I have now stayed because they wanted to." She finished off another sandwich. "Anyway, they attacked all three of our ships. They weren't amateurs, either. They knew how to go about it—attacked while we were too close to the station to use the beam weapons, and their shuttles were inside the fusing limits of our missiles. Luckily, this ship's full of useful passages, and though it got messy, we evicted them handily. They expected to be in control before we got far enough away to use our forward beam...but they weren't."

"You blew the station?"

"No...not everyone there was part of the scam, I'm sure. The other indentured workers, for one thing. But I scorched 'em and destroyed their communications masts, so they couldn't tell their remote platforms to burn us on the way out."

Pitt shook her head. "I know I told you, back then, that you were cut out for the military, but now I think I underestimated you...must've been that head injury. You're implant-linked now, aren't you?"

"Yes," Ky said. "That was another...interesting moment. But a story for another day. You'll want to see your people and set up a rotation, I'm sure."

"That I will. Thank you, Captain. I can find my own way—"

When Pitt had left, Ky stared at her desk for a long moment. The clarity a meal had given her had worn off. She started to call up to the bridge just as Hugh put his head in. "Captain—you're still up?"

"Of course I'm up," Ky said. "Why?"

"Because you've been up more than a day. May I suggest a few hours' sleep?"

"I haven't had a final report from Ransome. And we know the enemy might be jumping in—"

"And you'll cope better if you're even more exhausted?"

"You're right," Ky said, pushing back from the desk. She felt as if the artificial gravity had been notched up. A lot.

"I was off for four hours..."

She barely heard him as she headed for her cabin.

When she woke, she realized she'd fallen asleep in her clothes and had a kink in her neck. Muttering, she went into the shower, emerging in a few minutes awake and eager to find out what had happened to Teddy Ransome. Her implant reported all ship functions normal. She dumped the clothes she'd had on in the 'fresher, dressed, and headed for the bridge.

"Captain Ransome reports he has the enemy ship under control," Hugh reported. "He was a little disappointed not to speak to you personally from its bridge once he figured out how to reset their ansible for our channels, but I explained that you had important other duties and would get back to him."

"Sleep is a duty?" Ky said, grinning.

"For combat commanders, yes. Whenever they can get it without imperiling the mission."

"I think it's a duty for executive officers, too, Hugh. I know you're made of tougher material than the rest of us, but it's your turn—"

"And I'm going," he said. "Shall I send up something to eat?"

"An excellent idea," Ky said.

"Oh—and no other stealthed ships have been located," Hugh said as he left the bridge.

She contacted Colonel Kalin, who looked as much more rested as she herself felt, on tight-beam.

"If you left now, could you intercept your people before they jumped in here?" she asked.

"Not likely. They were going—well, I can't say where, but coming here they'd be doing serial jumps through several points."

"Well, it was a thought," Ky said. "Do you want me to blow those mines at the jump point?"

"No...it's our habit to come in carefully. You aren't leaving, are you?"

"Not while I have your personnel aboard several of our ships."

"I still need to talk to you about your base of support—"

"And I still prefer to wait until we're in a secure location."

"Your people didn't find another stealthed observer—"

"Colonel, I am perhaps too suspicious, but I do not think that not finding something means it's not there."

"Wow!" That was her com officer. "They did it!"

"Who did what?" Ky asked, turning to look.

"Bassoon. They got the system ansible on. Look at the icon."

"The ansible came on!" Colonel Kalin said in her comunit. "Was that your people?"

"I think—just a minute, I'm getting a report." Ky clicked off on that circuit and switched on the shipboard ansible. "Captain Pettygrew?"

"Sorry it took so long, Captain Vatta, but my tech said it was a bit more than a stuffed mailbox. She had to go EVA and get physical with it. I wouldn't let her go until she'd had some sleep."

"That's fine—I'm impressed. Tell her so for me. Have you tried making an actual call?"

"I don't know who—I guess we can call up the index...there. We can talk to Adelaide, and from there to anyplace they're connected."

"Colonel Kalin," Ky said to him. "The ansible is indeed up—Captain Pettygrew's best technician fixed it. You can try contacting your people—"

"And we can expect ISC to come down on us like a storm," Kalin said, frowning. "We had a huge assessment over that Sabine mess, even though it was only held in escrow. This time—"

"You didn't do anything; my people did," Ky said.

"Yes, well, I don't suppose you'll get off lightly, either. And they may assume we're part of that."

"I doubt it," Ky said. "We've been involved with ansible repairs before—with an ISC agent who was traveling with us, until he went back to Nexus to report. As near as we could tell, ISC didn't even notice that their ansibles were repaired, though I'm sure they will eventually. He thought they were probably overwhelmed by the amount of sabotage."

"He probably had an authorization code," Kalin said. "Did he give it to you?"

"No," Ky said. "He never said anything about a code."

"I wouldn't expect him to," Kalin said. "Our people asked, when the ansibles went down, about using our techs to help with repair. The local ISC office told us that we couldn't—that we must not, in fact—because we didn't have the correct authorization codes and they weren't about to give them to us."

"Well, they can come after me," Ky said. "And I'll tell them about Rafe. Besides, they're going to have more to worry about than someone being overhelpful—"

"So I gather from that material you sent. Is this something we can talk about, since we're on tight-beam?"

"I would think so—as close as we are, laser com should be secure enough even if there is another observer in the system. I would prefer we not name the articles, even though they know I have them."

"Good," Kalin said. "I have a few questions. Did the articles originate with the same firm?"

"According to my informant, yes. But the articles as they now exist were modified, by an unknown source, and distributed to the persons you'd least like to see have them."

"Did the ships that attacked us have them?"

"Almost certainly," Ky said. "The stealthed one did. The ones that attacked us before—long story, details to follow—did. I found a supply of them on this ship, sufficient to suggest that a regular trade in them was ongoing."

"Oh...my." From his expression, that had not been his first choice of words. "What will be the original firm's official reaction to their use, do you think?"

"My contact was horrified, but recognized the reality that the tech was already out in the universe, in use. I expect they'll adjust somehow; they always have."

"I still worry about ISC's reaction to anyone's messing with system ansibles, even to repair them. We've assumed the outages weren't their fault, but if they had some reason for it—"

"I know that one of my surviving relatives on Slotter Key got the Slotter Key system ansible repaired," Ky said. "If they go after Aunt Grace, they'll put their hand in a buzz saw."

Kalin raised his brows, then shrugged. "I hope you're right. We don't need any more trouble. Still, I've had my communications techs send messages to the intermediate jump points. We might catch our people that way, let them know what happened, though it's uncertain. There do seem to be more system ansibles up and working than when we left."

"If enough systems get impatient and fix them, ISC won't have the resources to punish them all," Ky said.

"We can hope," Kalin said. "Meanwhile...I'm not sure I've thanked you properly for your help. You saved our skins, that's for sure."

"We were lucky this time," Ky said.

"I don't know about that," Kalin said. "You made all the right moves. Economical and tidy, as battles go. That's unusual with an inexperienced officer commanding. Pitt says we tried to recruit you, back at Sabine..."

"Yes, but I had a contract to fulfill," Ky said. She tried to imagine what it would have been like to be in Mackensee when her family was killed, and shook that thought away quickly.

"Yes—Pitt said your refusal was for honorable reasons. And now you're in another military organization. I rather wish we'd caught you in the interim."

"Then I wouldn't have been here," Ky said. "But thanks for the sentiment."

"Point taken. All right, back to the...articles. Pitt said you wanted to know if we were interested. Of course we are, but are you interested in sharing? What does your command think about that?"

"Considering that the pirates already have it and our side needs it," Ky said, "we're more than just 'interested' in sharing. There are a couple of possibilities: direct purchase or license to produce..."

"You hold the patents? I thought you said the...um...original firm—"

"I can put you in touch with the office working on that issue," Ky said. Stella wouldn't be overjoyed about that unless she'd gotten the answers she wanted, but she might be able to satisfy him that they had some legitimacy. "You might be able to relay through to them from here."

"I'll have to talk to my commanders first," Kalin said. "We have procedures—and I'm sure the Old Man wouldn't want us using illegal technology—"

"Not even if it gave your enemies such an advantage?" Ky asked. "After all, you were attacked by these pirates."

"I know, I know," Kalin said. "But you have to understand—surely you have rules in your organization as well. Discipline is the core of military success; we can't just do whatever we want."

Unlike Slotter Key's Spaceforce, Pettygrew's tech didn't know that system ansibles had an auto response when restored to service with or without the proper authorization code. As the ansible's onboard AI regained control of its functions, its first message went out to all functioning ansibles, with relay-to-headquarters headers. Setting up the linkage from there to Adelaide to Nexus II took only seconds; the message itself took immeasurably less time. At ISC headquarters, in the status room, the watch staff noted that relay ansible Boxtop-zip-figaro 112 was back online, restored to service by an unauthorized intruder. They already knew about the Slotter Key ansible repair.

Pettygrew received the return message from Nexus II requesting identification within minutes. His comtech reported that Captain Vatta was in conference with the Mackensee commander; he shrugged and decided to answer the query himself. "Tell 'em it's Space Defense Force, Third Fleet, light cruiser Bassoon," he said. "They won't have a clue who that is." Almost immediately, a response came back.

"You are in violation of the Uniform Commercial Code, which prohibits any tampering with ISC installations, including attempts to repair faulty ansibles. This message is your legal notice of violation, and will be forwarded to the appropriate jurisdiction for adjudication. Note: ISC has no reference documentation for the so-called Space Defense Force; as of this date, it will be listed as an outlaw organization. To change this listing, supply documentation proving legitimacy under a recognized system and a legal business address."

"Oh...dear." Pettygrew and his bridge crew looked at one another. "I'm afraid we kicked an anthill. Captain Vatta isn't going to be happy about this."

"Well, we sort of knew ISC didn't like people meddling with their stuff..."

"They should fix it faster, then," Pettygrew said. "Let's see if I can shake some sense into them." He thought a moment, and sent: "This is an emergency situation. Pirates attacked helpless ships in this system. Many casualties. We attempted emergency repair of ansible to call for help."

The response was not encouraging: "There is no legal justification for tampering with ISC equipment under any circumstances. As we have no record of any Space Defense Force, we have no reason to believe that this so-called report is anything more than a fabrication, an attempt to evade the legal consequences of illegal actions."

"Something just stripped our beacon," one of the bridge crew said. "I think it was the ansible..."

"Your beacon data have been appended to the charges we are filing," the message went on. "You will be apprehended in any system and held for adjudication. Further attempts to contact this facility will result in additional evidence being stored against you. That is all." The contact blanked.

"Do you think they'll turn the ansible off?" someone asked.

"No," Pettygrew said. "Oh, they might, but if it's working, it's a source of income for them when anyone else uses it. I think I'd better contact Captain Vatta right away, even if she is busy."


"Captain, Bassoon wants you," Vanguard's comtech said.

Ky switched to that channel. "Vatta here."

"Captain Vatta, I've just had a disturbing message—via ansible—from ISC. Apparently my repair tripped some kind of automatic signal, and they've threatened to have Bassoon arrested anywhere we go, for violation of the Commercial Code."

"Did they get your ship ID?"

"Yes. They stripped our beacon. I'd explained it was an emergency situation, with ships attacked and casualties, and they said that was no excuse. I...er...I shouldn't have, but I did say I was part of the Space Defense Force—"

"No reason you shouldn't," Ky said. "What happened?"

"They said they had no record of any such organization. Of course they don't, but...then they said it must be an illegal organization and they'd report that, too."

"That's not good," Ky said. "Not that I'm blaming you, Dan. It's my fault, if it's anyone but theirs. If they'd repaired their ansibles in a timely manner, none of this would've happened. I wish I knew if Rafe—the ISC person we had aboard for a while—was at ISC headquarters by now or not. He might be able to straighten this out, but trying to contact him could be tricky."

"They said any attempts to contact them would result in gathering more evidence against us," Pettygrew said.

"Well...I may have a roundabout way of doing it so they don't know it's us," Ky said. "It'll take awhile to work out, though. Meanwhile, we should get in a better defensive position in case something unfriendly comes through the jump point."

"Do you expect anyone?"

"Not really. But we don't want to be unpleasantly surprised, either by pirates or by an irate ISC ship. We can protect Metaire best if we're not sitting on top of either the ansible position or Metaire itself."

"You know we expended a lot of our missiles—"

"I know. We don't want to fight a serious battle, but we could manage a fighting retreat. Metaire's worse off than we are, and they're still picking up their dead."

"There's a lot of junk out there," Pettygrew said. "It'll take them days to find all the remains, if they can."

"Kalin's hoping one of his messages got to the relief convoy so they can call in a hazmat ship," Ky said. "But he's not prepared to abandon the search just yet." She had already added minesweepers and post-battle hazmat teams to her wish list, with the wry thought that Spaceforce Academy hadn't really prepared her to organize a fleet. "You'll need to reposition, and I'll contact Argelos—we'll have a brief all-ships conference in two hours." If nothing happened before then. "Meanwhile, I'll also tell Colonel Kalin what we're up to."

"All-ships including Ransome's Rangers?"

Ky rolled her eyes. "I suppose...for the part of it they won't think too boring. They served us well, whatever we think of them."

"True. Well, then, I'll be on my way," Pettygrew said.

Two hours later, Ky convened the conference. "This will be short," she said, "since we know that hostiles were undoubtedly made aware of the defeat of their people and may decide to attempt retaliation. We can't leave, because Metaire is still retrieving casualties and several of us have Mackensee personnel, including wounded, aboard. I've discussed Metaire's situation with the Mackensee officer in command. He's expecting a group of Mackensee ships in ten to twelve days, but those ships think they're bringing troops to change out for training exercises. He is unwilling to leave until they arrive. They will be armed, of course...and our first concern is that they not attack us, thinking we're the enemy. We know these ships are coming, and approximately when. We don't know about the others—the pirates and, unfortunately, ISC. Pirates are likely to attack in force, if they come. They will know we expended ammunition and there's no place here to resupply; they will know that a Mackensee ship was seriously damaged and that Mackensee had many casualties...they may realize that we're still here and more vulnerable than before. But since we don't know if they're coming, or when they might get here, or with how many ships if they do come, our ability to plan for them is limited. Our discussions earlier, you recall, led to some excellent suggestions for situations like this, so—" Ky put up a diagram. "This is what we're going to do—"

[ Nexus II, ISC Headquarters ]

Rafe looked out the window at the swirls of snow and wished he were out there somewhere, anonymous, going about his business—whatever that might have been—able to stop in to any shop, ride on any carrier, without arousing attention. He had come to work in the private car, as usual, with his own private bodyguards; it was now the only way he could go anywhere.

He had dealt with the first of the morning's work, and now he could not put off any longer the problem his father insisted was urgent. Here and there, in the vast territory where ISC had once held an unbreakable monopoly on long-distance communication, ansibles out of service were coming back online...but not because ISC repair crews had fixed them. Economically, in the short term at least, this was a good thing: the more ansibles, the more traffic, and the more traffic, the more profit. He had made this argument with his father. If they didn't have to send a repair team, it saved costs; if the calls went through, they were paid.

But his father insisted that it was a dangerous precedent, that letting systems fix their own ansibles was tantamount to giving them part ownership in them. It violated the old licensing agreements; it ran counter to those sections in the Universal Commercial Code that ISC had insisted on putting in.

And what exercised his father most was the Slotter Key repair, which had been done—no secret about it—at the behest of Grace Lane Vatta, now Sub-Rector of Defense. In his father's mind, the line of guilt from Lew Parmina ran straight to anyone he'd befriended...and he had befriended the Vatta family. Vattas were at least suspect, his father insisted. He had been appalled to learn that Rafe had spent time—a lot of time—with two surviving members of that family, that Rafe expressed anything other than suspicion of their motives.

And now ISC's legal staff were scrambling to deal with requests from an intellectual property lawyer on Cascadia who wanted to know where patents relevant to "mobile ansibles" might be filed. Rafe knew exactly where that request came from. Ky had said flat out she intended not only to use the shipboard ansible installed on Osman's ship, but also to share the others with allies. Stella...Stella had seen the economic side; clearly she was preparing to manufacture and sell them. And Toby...whether the rest of the family knew it or not, Toby was one of those rare tech geniuses, and Rafe had recognized it. If Toby had been tinkering with the design, who knew what might come out of it?

He hadn't yet told his father about this, but he would have to soon. Though his father was progressing slowly in rehab—the brain damage had been more severe than they first hoped, and neural regeneration proceeded at its own measured rate—he insisted on being kept up to date on the main issues at ISC. If Rafe didn't tell him, one of his old friends might—even though they had been told, by the doctors, not to talk business with him.

He could imagine the response. His father had seemed, when he was a boy, so calm and reasonable...but now, in the wake of Lew Parmina's betrayal and his own injuries, he had formed this one unshakable, irrational conclusion. Lew had counted the Vatta family as friends; therefore the Vatta family was, most likely, an enemy. The whole shipboard ansible mess was their fault—hadn't such ansibles been found on a Vatta ship? And wasn't it another Vatta who insisted on using them? And now Stella Vatta was trying to find out about the relevant patents.

"Excuse me, sir." Emil Borcaster, borrowed from the family's own legal firm as his personal assistant, tapped on the door frame. Emil had checked out clean, according to Gary's people...unlike some of the other candidates for the job.

"Yes, come in."

"There's a new report on the ansible repair situation. A relay ansible's been brought online by something calling itself the Space Defense Force, Third Fleet. We don't have them in our records—they don't have an account with us or anything—but I did a little digging. Our people on Adelaide report that a group of three ships showed up there, calling themselves the Space Defense Force, and made an ansible connection to the offices of Vatta Transport on Cascadia."

"Surely you jest," Rafe said, swallowing the urge to scream and slam his head on the desk. Ky. It had to be Ky. What she was doing in Adelaide when she'd started off in the opposite direction, he didn't know, but clearly she'd created that multisystem force she'd been talking about. The "Third Fleet" part sounded overdone, though. He was willing to bet it was a ruse, and all she had was what came with her.

"No, sir; it's not a joke. And the commanding officer of that group of ships was a Kylara Vatta. With an account at Adelaide Central Bank; the records on the financial ansible at Adelaide show a funds transfer to Vatta Transport on Cascadia."

"And I thought the day couldn't get worse," Rafe muttered.

"Sir? But this makes it clearer, doesn't it? The Vatta family is working against ISC."

"Where did you hear that?" Rafe asked.

"Well...down in Enforcement, they're saying that's three. Grace Vatta pushing to get Slotter Key's Spaceforce to meddle with their ansible. Stella Vatta trying to infringe our patents on ansible technology, and now Kylara Vatta and this illegally constituted organization calling itself Space Defense Force tampering with another ansible. Four if you count the shipboard ansibles on Osman Vatta's ship. I know you don't, but some do."

"There's something you don't know, Emil," Rafe said. "As my assistant, you have to be in on this, but you must keep it quiet...besides us, only Legal knows, and they aren't talking."

"What's that, sir?"

"We have no patents on the shipboard ansibles."

"What? Of course we do! ISC patent attorneys are famous for patenting anything and everything—"

"Yes. And the decision was made, years back, to use that reputation, not actual recorded patents, to protect the mobile ansible technology."

"But...but that was stupid! Why—?"

"The danger of letting it be known what was possible, even if it was protected under law. We'd have had to file the plans, including the details of how the design was kept from interfacing with system ansibles. At that point, someone somewhere could have accessed them, taken them to some system that wasn't entirely within the law, and started manufacture."

"Did your father make that decision?"

"No. But he concurred. What we have now is an attempt to stonewall while we see if there is any way at all we can claim rights in the technology, or if someone else—the pirates who are using it, for instance—managed to file patents on it in some out-of-the-way mudball where our staff doesn't usually troll for inventions, because there aren't any."

"Then—then Vatta Transport isn't trying to infringe?"

"No. They're trying not to infringe—they actually inquired—and if they went on and manufactured onboard ansibles by the shipload, we'd have no legal complaint. Not at the moment, anyway."

"But if they're just small, lightweight versions of system ansibles—I know ISC holds the patents on that—"

"They're not," Rafe said. "I've examined them—and I already knew, pretty much, how they differed. It's a mess, is what it is, and we're not doing ourselves much good by stonewalling. I'm going to try to convince the Board of that."

"They won't like it."

"I don't like it. But with so many systems angry that we haven't restored their communications, and our income stream still dropping, I don't see that we're going to get much satisfaction in the courts if we try to fight it." Rafe shook his head. "The legitimate members of the Vatta family—and no, I don't count Osman—found and used the shipboard technology that originated in our research labs. But they didn't steal it from us; it had already been stolen because we didn't protect it, either physically or legally. None of those units had been manufactured here. It's one of the things I checked. Moreover, we didn't take out the necessary patents, so...legally...there's nothing underhanded at all in what Stella and Ky Vatta did about those."

"But the other—"

"Vattas aren't the only ones to do unauthorized ansible repair," Rafe said. "We have a dozen, don't we, on the list?"

"Fourteen today, sir."

"Right. And only two of them remotely associated with Vattas."

"That we know of," Emil said, scowling.

"That we know of. Fine. But still...if Lew Parmina hadn't made such a point of being friendly with them, would anyone seriously suspect them?"

"No...I suppose not. But he did, and you said we still haven't found all his people in the organization."

"Vattas aren't his people. Just an ordinary—well, ordinary for rich—family he chose to be friends with. For all we know, as cover." Though, now that he came to think of it, why had Lew Parmina chosen to get close to the Vatta family? And how close?

Unfortunately, he couldn't call Stella and ask her. That would raise an even bigger stink.

"So—did Enforcement send a message on this latest repair thing?"

"Of course. They stripped the beacon off the ship involved— Bassoon, with Bissonet registry. In fact, it's listed as part of the Bissonet Free Militia, which is—or was, until the recent unfortunate events—what Bissonet calls their privateers."

"And the captain is Kylara Vatta?"

"No, no. Bassoon's captain is Daniel Pettygrew. Vatta's ship is the Vanguard, Moscoe Confederation registry. Anyway, Enforcement told Pettygrew that they didn't recognize the organization as a legal entity, and that they'd stripped his beacon and filed a complaint against him in every available jurisdiction."

"Who's in charge down there this shift? Oh, right, Jessie Squires. Get her for me, will you?"

"You're not going to rescind it, are you?"

"Not personally, no. The more I can do through established channels, the better. I will convince Jessie it's in our best interest to rescind it. Bissonet's fallen to the pirates and their allies; Pettygrew's a refugee. Yes, he probably knows our rules, but he's actually done us a service. And if Pettygrew is with Ky Vatta, they're hunting pirates—which is exactly what someone needs to do before they're walking into this office and blowing our heads off."

"You don't really think that could happen, do you, sir? We have our own space forces."

"Emil, you have never been in real danger in your life, have you? Ever been on a space station when someone blew a ship, or a hole in the station? Ever been in a ship someone else was trying to blow? Ever had even one weapon fired at you in your whole life?"

"No...sir." Emil looked confused.

"I have. More times than I care to remember, someone has tried to kill me personally, or me along with a lot of other people they didn't care about. I know we have, on the books, more armed spacecraft than anyone else we know about, and we have a lot of people assigned to Enforcement Division. And I know exactly what the reality is: this planet is as vulnerable as any other, this office is as vulnerable as any other, and you are as vulnerable as any other."

"And you, sir?"

Rafe had two of his weapons out before Emil finished speaking. "I, Emil, am one degree less vulnerable because I believe I can be killed." Emil, he was glad to see, had turned an unpleasantly pale shade of his normal coloring. "Don't panic, boy; I'm not going to kill you. But anything as big, as rich, as powerful, and as centralized as ISC has TARGET written on it in large glowing letters." Rafe slid the needler back into its holster and the blade back up his sleeve.

"But we've never been attacked—" Emil stopped as he saw Rafe's expression. "Have we?"

"The short answer is yes, but not for a long time. Aside from things like abduction, like my father, and attempts at assassination." Rafe reached for one of the folders on his desk. "Let me read you something. Remember I asked for an update on Enforcement's resources?"

"Yes..."

"ISC maintains an armed fleet—everyone knows that. The thing about armed fleets is that they cost a lot. Then you have to crew them: ships without crews don't do you any good. And that costs a lot. Then you have to train the crews and keep them in practice: crews that never go on maneuvers are easy meat for those that do. And that costs a lot, not only for the munitions and fuel and other supplies to go on maneuvers, but also refitting and repair...because anything you use deteriorates, and rough use wears it out faster. Are you following this?"

"Yes..."

"So..." Rafe opened the file and started reading. "Average age of ISC armed vessels: sixty-eight years. Average age of ISC group commanders: sixty-four years. Average time from last weapons upgrade: thirty-seven years. Average interval since last maneuvers with live fire: six years. Percent of armed vessels deemed battle-ready—are you ready for this?—eleven."

Emil stared back at him, a mix of confusion and fright on his face. "That's...not good, is it?"

"That's pathetic," Rafe said. "We might be able to scare a backward colony planet into thinking we're all-powerful, but any competent military force that knew what I now know wouldn't hesitate to take us on. What's protecting us right now is our reputation. Enforcement doesn't understand that; they haven't actually done much in a long time, so they think having thousands of ships on the books is the same as having thousands of ships that can actually fight. The back of this report is one long self-serving explanation of why the damning figures up front—that I insisted on seeing—don't matter. But they do matter."

"Your father—"

"Apparently accepted Enforcement's view of our military might."

"Were you...uh...in another military while you were...uh...gone? Is that how you know so much?"

Rafe laughed. "No, I'm not soldier material. But despite folk mythology that you have to do it to understand it, even the sterile can understand how babies get made, and even a pacifist can understand supply, tactics, and the chain of command." Emil looked shocked this time; Rafe sighed and excised the irony from his tone. "I had a friend who was a soldier," he said instead. "I learned a lot by listening."

"Oh. All right. But if ISC is so vulnerable, what are you going to do about it?"

That was the sticker. "I'm not sure," Rafe said. "It will probably involve, like most things military, a lot of misdirection and the expenditure of enough money to make Accounting blench. Hopefully no one will find out how feeble our resources are until we've had time to strengthen them, but we can't count on that. Parmina may have taken the reports at face value, like my father, or he may have known how weak we are—and if he knew, he might have told his pirate allies, or he might have kept it to himself, something he could use later on. We have to assume, worst case, that the pirates do know. At the moment, I'm sending you down to Enforcement to hand-carry a note to Squires that she's to come up here. You will not—repeat after me, not —tell her what I've been telling you."

Emil nodded and left. Rafe felt like sneaking out and disappearing into the snow, which had now thickened to blizzard proportions. The task was too big, the difficulties too many and too complex. He was fit for the little jobs, not this one.

But here he was, mired in an expensive suit in a vast office where most people seemed to think the purpose of their job was to feed him comfortable lies. He looked at the notes Emil had put on his schedule. Meetings with a cabinet official at 1100, with another government department head at 1300, with the senior representative of Crown & Spears at 1500. They all wanted to meet him, get to know him, tell him how much they respected his father and how sorry they were and if they had only known...or so yesterday's meetings had gone.

And all because of ISC's reputation as a powerful, necessary monopoly, which was now—though they didn't know it yet—shattered and gone: that incredible wealth, that reputation for toughness and strength. When they found out how hollow the gold statue really was, he knew who would get the blame. The old man's son, the bad boy who wasn't, after all, up to the job.

He knew what to do—unpopular as it would be with the Board, the bankers, the government. If he called Stella himself, he could probably get her to deal with him, maybe even put out the shipboard ansibles under ISC's label, which would give them an immediate market advantage. But—could he do it? Would the Board back him? Would his father?

[ Cascadia Station ]

Stella Vatta listened to the lawyer's recitation of ISC's delaying tactics with mounting anger. "I thought it was illegal now to register patents in obscure jurisdictions—"

"It's supposed to be, certainly, though it was common practice before the Commercial Code was approved. And Nexus is a signatory to the code, so it should apply to ISC for all patents issued within the past hundred-and-seventy-odd years. I've searched all the relevant databases; no patents relating to shipboard ansibles are in any of the five systems where patents are supposed to be registered. But ISC's legal department claims that some of the technology could have been patented before adoption of the code, or could have been registered remotely, as their research labs are widely scattered—but they won't tell me where, for reasons of security, they say."

"I'll bet they don't even have patents," Stella said.

"I find that hard to credit," the lawyer said. Like all Cascadian attorneys, he was studiously courteous.

"If they had patents, they'd be eagerly telling us what they were," Stella said. "I don't think they've lost them; I think they never had them. Rafe said they were practically paranoid about secrecy, and were convinced that the technology involved would endanger their monopoly. They'd know about patent searches; they'd be worried someone could figure out how to pirate the tech, produce it remotely somewhere—"

"Then, if you're convinced of that, let's go on and apply for patents here," the lawyer said. "From the little you've told me, this is revolutionary stuff."

"It will blow the top off communications," Stella said. "And it's time you knew all about it." She took a data cube out of the pocket of her suit. "Here. Look at this on my machine, right here." She handed it to him, then sat back and watched as he read from the screen.

"Oh...my...trees and leaves and roots and branches," he said. "This really works?"

"The pirates have the old form," Stella said. "The stuff that someone stole from ISC's research lab—don't know who, or when, or how. We've improved it considerably, as you see."

"It makes system ansibles obsolete," the lawyer said. "Or almost."

"Not really," Stella said. "All regular communications nets tie into them—planetary and station communications, for instance. What this does is give ships the ability to go ship-to-ship even when a system ansible doesn't exist, and ship-to-ansible at distances where lightspeed communication to and from a system ansible is slow and difficult. System ansibles will still carry most traffic."

"But if they can be mounted on ships, they can be mounted anywhere—on stations, even in offices and homes."

"True. But I still think the existing communications networks will keep system ansibles in business."

"You need to apply for patents right away," the attorney said. "Today. Is this the only complete dataset?"

"No. But it's the only one that's out of secure storage."

"I assume you'd rather I didn't take it with me?"

"Correct."

"Then I'll contact my office, download the appropriate forms, and—may I see one of these in operation?"

"Yes, of course. We do in fact have one here." Stella took back the data cube and led him into the back office, which now connected to the "research lab" where Toby worked. She had finally gotten all the parts out of their apartment living room. Toby looked up from his workbench; Rascal, at his feet, looked up, then lay his nose back on Toby's foot.

"Toby, we need a demonstration. What's the time in Aunt Grace's office?"

"I'll look it up," Toby said.

"Conventionally, I'd use a regular long-distance service, call the system ansible, and set up a call to Slotter Key's ansible. That ansible would route my call through local call centers to the code number I specified. There would be delay at both ends, attenuated by something ISC refers to as a 'system booster' to near-natural conversational pauses. From the effect, we're guessing these are smaller, less powerful ansibles placed in orbiting satellites, but we don't actually know."

"Nine in the morning," Toby said. "We're back in sync for the next few days."

"Slotter Key's rotation isn't the same as the standard day length here," Stella explained. "But we're lucky, because I can call Aunt Grace right now. In fact, we'll place two calls—one by conventional, and one using our own ansible—and you can observe the difference. Toby, you start the connection on my mark. I'll be calling on the ordinary one."

Stella picked up the desk phone, said "Now" to Toby, and entered the origination codes for an ansible call to Slotter Key. She handed the headset to the attorney so he could hear for himself the familiar clicks and buzzes that went with an ansible call. The status lights went from red to green, and there was a brief display of Slotter Key's logo.

"She says what do you want, she's busy," Toby reported, from his side of the room.

"I'll take that," Stella said as she heard a voice on the attorney's headset.

To that one, she said, "I'm Stella Vatta, calling for Grace Vatta. I know she's on another line, but ask her to confirm that the other line is an ansible call from Vatta Transport headquarters."

The attorney listened in as a male voice came back on. "Yes, she is on such a call. What's going on?"

"Just a test of our equipment," Stella said. "Tell her Stella sends her love and things are looking up."

She walked across the room and gestured Toby aside; he was pink to the ears. Aunt Grace, who had turned on her video pickup, glared out of the screen.

"Stella! What are you playing at? Why two calls on two lines from your office?"

"Good news," Stella said. "But I can't give you details yet."

"Young lady—"

"There are a few legal threads to tie down," Stella said. "And that's all I can say."

"You were born a tease," Grace said, still scowling. "So—how's the business?"

"Growing," Stella said. "No more ships lost, and the ones we have are moving at ninety-seven percent capacity. And how are things on Slotter Key?"

"Calm," Grace said. "Except of course where I've been stirring the pot. Your mother and Jo's children are fine—growing like weeds and showing every sign of being Vattas to the core. Anything else? I do have a full day, and I'm already running behind."

"No, that's it. Thanks, Aunt Grace." Stella cut the connection and looked at her attorney.

"Most impressive. I'll certainly be able to attest to the efficacy of the device. So if you'll let me have a terminal, I'll get busy. We should be able to file for patents today, as organized as your data are." In his eagerness, he spoke almost as directly as a non-Cascadian.

"Good." Stella led him back to the main offices, installed him at a terminal in her own, and left him to it. A few hours later, he called her in and presented a sheaf of hardcopy for her to sign.

"And what name did you want those patents in? Vatta Transport?"

"No. Toby did the work; he should get the credit."

He shook his head. "He didn't do all the work; you said he started with the pirated design. I'd recommend Vatta Transport for the rest, with Toby—if you insist; he's still a minor in law, and you as his guardian could be named instead—listed only for those things he actually designed himself."

Stella agreed. Even if he held only those patents, he would be secure for life, assuming the pirates didn't blow them all away.

By the close of business, the patent applications were filed: "Patents Relating to the Design of a Working Prototype of a Small Ansible-Based Communications Device Mountable on a Ship and Interfacing with Existing System-Ansible-Based Communications Networks." The Moscoe Confederation, as one of the five systems in which patents were registered for recognition under the Uniform Commercial Code, had a reputation for speedy processing, but Stella was surprised at how fast that could be. Shortly before mid-first-shift the next day, her assistant told her she had an incoming call from planetside.

"Stella Vatta?" The man on the screen wore a Patents Office shield clipped to his lapel.

"Yes," Stella said.

"We have examined your...remarkable patent application. I see you took the advice of Brinkles, Patrick, and Stansted as intellectual property attorneys..."

"Yes," Stella said. "Is anything wrong?"

"Not at all. They have an excellent reputation; I'm sure that if they say a search for prior patents was made, they did in fact make it. And I see that your attorney attests that he personally observed the...er...device in operation and is satisfied that it does in fact work as claimed. I did have a few questions for you. Were you planning to manufacture the device in this jurisdiction?"

"Yes," Stella said.

"And were you planning to manufacture and sell the device without ISC knowledge?"

"Without their knowledge? Not at all. We had asked them, when we couldn't find any record of patents they might have held...so they know what we're doing."

"I see. And were you planning to manufacture and sell the device under the name of Vatta Transport?"

"No; I planned to designate a separate entity for that."

"Very well. I am pleased to tell you that we were all impressed by the...device, and its likely scope for manufacture and sale. We would expect a reaction from ISC, of course, but the device could benefit many, which...is another reason to approve the application. I will forward the relevant numbers and papers at once, and proceed with registration. Congratulations."

"Thank you," Stella said. She could hardly catch her breath. It had worked. It had worked, and so fast. It wasn't, she reminded herself, anything but a start—but it was a strong start.

She found Toby glowering at a monitor. "Aunt Stella, I only made eighty-seven on my history exam. And I think I was right."

"On what?"

"First Expansion was from Old Earth to its system satellites, right?"

"As far as I know."

"And Second Expansion was from Old Solar to Central Sector only?"

Stella shrugged. "I don't know, Toby. I don't remember. And anyway, we have something to celebrate."

"If I don't get a higher grade in history, Zori Louarri will beat me out for class honors," Toby said.

Stella paused. Toby had been topping his class easily until now, and he'd shown no interest in class honors. She'd urged him to find friends, go places with other kids—which he sometimes did—but mostly he stayed in the lab, working.

"Who's Zori Louarri?" she asked.

"She's...just a girl," Toby said, going pink.

Even geniuses had hormones. And he was still a teenager. Stella sighed to herself; being Toby's guardian might turn out to be more of a challenge than she'd thought.

"Why don't we go out to lunch, and you can tell me more about her?" she said.

"There's not much to tell," Toby said, sliding off the stool. "She was top of the class before I got here; everybody likes her except the doormops—"

"Doormops?"

"You know. Kids that don't like anybody but each other."

"What does she look like?" Stella asked, leading the way out of the offices, and tapping her wrist to indicate lunchtime to the receptionist.

Toby turned pinker. "She's...kind of...well, she's a girl, you know. She has soft hair. And...and things..."

He was sunk. He was completely sunk. Stella remembered, all too well, her own first crush. It had been the boy's jawline, just that angular, bony shape, which made her knees weak. And Toby was old enough for it to be more than a simple crush.

Phrase by broken phrase, on the way to the restaurant where she'd made reservations, Toby told her more than enough to make Stella both sympathetic and amused. Zori was smart, she had a laugh that made everybody laugh, the "soft hair" was thick and black and shiny, she had eyes as black as her hair, she played on the wally team—wally, Toby explained when Stella asked, was a ball game where you bounced two balls off the walls of a small room and scored by a complicated system that made no sense to Stella, even after explanation.

"And her family's been here since forever, and they don't like newcomers that much, but Zori's nice to them anyway—"

"I'll have the mock duck à l'orange," Stella said to the woman in the black smock. "Toby?"

"Oh. Anything—" He looked at the menu finally. "Can I have that lamb thing, Aunt Stella?"

"Of course, dear. I said this was a celebration."

"What are we celebrating?"

"I'll tell you later. Rack of lamb," she said to the waitress. "And we'll want dessert later," she added, grinning at Toby.

When the waitress had gone, she leaned closer to him. "We have the patents," she said.

His face lit up. "All of them? Already?"

"Yes. And the ones you invented are in your name; the rest are in Vatta Enterprises."

"Is it going to make us rich?"

"Toby, we are rich. Compared with most people, anyway. But yes, it will make us a lot richer. If I don't do something stupid."

"You won't do anything stupid, Aunt Stella," Toby said. "You're much smarter than you think."

"I'm glad you think so, Toby," Stella said, her mind racing ahead to all the things she had to do to get the ansibles into production, through sales, before the profits she hoped for would roll in.