Sassinak

Chapter Fourteen

“Commander Sassinak…” The voice was vaguely familiar; Sassinak pulled her attention out of an engineering report and glanced up. Incredulous joy engulfed her.

“Ford!” She could hardly believe it, and then wondered why she hadn’t already known. Surely the name would have been on the roster of incoming officers -

“Lieutenant Commander Hakrar broke a leg and two ribs in a waterboat race… and they offered it to me, so - “ His broad grin was the same as ever, but now he subdued it. “Lieutenant Commander Fordeliton reporting for duty, captain.” He held out his order chip, and she took it, feeding it into the reader. Her side screen came up with a list.

“There’re just a few chores waiting for you, as you can see - “

“Mmm. Maybe I should have stopped for a drink before I reported aboard.” He leaned over to take a look at the screen, and feigned shock. “Good grief, Commander, hasn’t anyone done any work on this ship since you docked?”

Sassinak found herself grinning. “Did you see the holos of the damage we came in with?”

“No - but I heard rumors of a Board of Inquiry. Bad fight?”

“Fairly stiff. I’ll tell you later. For now - “ She looked him up and down. The same dark bronze face, the same lean body that could slouch carelessly in a dockside bar or dance elegantly at a diplomatic reception, the same tone of voice, wordlessly offering support without challenge. If she had had her pick of all the possible executive officers, he would have been the one. And yet - she wasn’t ready for anything more, not yet. Would he understand? “Just get yourself settled, and we’ll have a briefing at 1500. Need any help?”

“No, Commander, thank you. I met your Weapons Officer on the way to the dock, and she’s helped me find my way around.”

Sassinak leaned back, after he’d gone, and let herself remember that crazy trip as prize crew on a captured illicit trader, something more than ten years before. She’d been exec on a patrol-class vessel,Lily of Serai, and they’d caught a trader carrying illegal and unmarked cargo. So her captain had put her and five others aboard, as a prize crew to bring the trader to Sector HQ; she’d had command, and Fordeliton, then a Jig, had been her exec. She’d hardly known him before, but it was the kind of trip that made solid relationships. For the trader crew had tried to take the ship back, and they’d killed two of the marines - and almost killed Ford, but she had led the other two in a desperate hand-to-hand fight through the main deck corridors. If Huron had seen that, she told herself, he’d never have doubted her will to fight. In the end they’d won - though they’d had to space most of the trader’s original crew - and she had brought the ship in whole. When Ford recovered from his injuries, they’d become lovers - and in the years since, whenever they chanced to meet, they had enjoyed each other’s company. Nothing intense, nothing painful - but she could count on his quiet, generous support. Another incoming officer brought her much less content. Fleet Security, apparently impressed by her conviction that she had yet another agent on board, decided to assign a Security officer to the ship. Sassinak frowned over his dossier: a Lieutenant Commander (in Security, a very high rank) from Bretagne. All she’d wanted was a deeper scrutiny of her personnel records, and instead she got this… she looked at his holo. Slim, dark hair and eyes, somehow conveying even in that official pose a certain dapper quality.

In person, when he reported for duty, he lived up to his holo: suave, courteous, almost elegant. His voice had the little lilt she remembered from Bretagne natives, and he used it to compliment her on her ship, her office decor, her reputation. Sassinak considered biting his head off, but it was never wise to alienate Security. She gave him courtesy for courtesy, alluding to her first ship service under a Bretagnan captain, and he became even sleeker, if possible. When he’d gone to his quarters, Sassinak took a long breath and blew it out. Security! Why couldn’t they do the job right in the first place, and prevent hostiles from getting into Fleet, instead of sending people like this to harass honest officers and interfere with their work?

But Dupaynil turned out better than his first impression, He got along well with the other officers, and had a strong technical background that made him useful in both Engineering and Weaponry, His witty conversation, which skirted but never quite slid into malicious gossip about the prominent and wealthy among whom he’d worked, livened their meals. And he was more than a quick wit, Sassinak found out, when they discussed the matter of planet piracy and slave trading.

“You haven’t been at Headquarters for several years,” he said. “I’m sure you remember that speculation about certain families had begun even ten years ago…”

“Yes, of course.”

“Our problem has been not in finding out who, but in proving how - with persons of such rank, we cannot simply accuse them of complicity. And they’ve been very, very clever in covering their tracks, and making their accounts clean for inspection. That ship you captured, for instance - “

“I was thinking Paraden,” said Sass.

“Precisely. But you noted, I’m sure, that although there were apparent links to Paraden family enterprises, there was no direct, traceable proof…”

“No. I’d hoped the traces on those transports coming into the pirate base would be helpful.”

“Oh, they were. Commodore Verstan forwarded all available data - and we’re now sure of some kind of complicity between the Paradens and at least one group of political activists from Diplo.”

“That’s what I don’t understand,” said Sass. “The Paradens I’ve met were all prejudiced against any of the human variants - I’d think they’d be the last people to consort with heavyworlders.”

“The Paraden family stronghold maintains a body of heavyworlder troops. That’s not widely known, but we have - had, I should say - an agent that had infiltrated them just so far. It would be within their philosophy to use the heavyworlders that way - and to gain exclusive access to chosen worlds.”

“That young woman who went crazy and tried to poison us all was born on Diplo. But I thought she was too irrational to be anyone’s agent - “

“You’re undoubtedly right. No, if you have a saboteur on your ship. Commander, it’s someone more subtle than that. And quite possibly not a heavyworlder. There’s a growing sentiment that Fleet demands too much and delivers too little protection… that it’s used to keep colony planets subdued, or to prevent the opening of suitable worlds for colonies. Exploration has shifted a lot of blame to Fleet, over the past decade or so - and that concerns us, too. Why are we blamed when Exploration chooses to classify a world as unsuited for colonization? Why is Fleet responsible when the alien vote in the FSP puts a system off-limits for humans? Because we enforce the edicts, apparently… but who is emphasizing that, and why?”

“And you have no idea if any of this crew is such an agent?”

Dupaynil shook his head. “No - the records all seem clear, and that’s what you’d expect from a professional. They’re not going to do anything stupid, like use a faked name or background. We can check too easily on that sort of thing these days - the Genetic Index gives us the references for each planet-of-origin. If I said I was from Grantly-IV, for instance, you could look it up in the Index and find out that I should be blue-eyed and a foot taller.”

“But surely most planets have a variety of genomes - “

“A variety, yes, but not the entire range of human possibilities. Much of the time it doesn’t tell us precisely where someone is from - although with tissue samples for analysis it does much better - but it certainly tells me what questions to ask, and what to look for. Anyone from Bretagne, my home world, has experienced double moonlight, and knows about the Imperial Rose Gardens. You’re from Myriad - you lived in its one city - and so I know you experienced a seacoast with mountains inland, and you must have seen at least one gorbnari.”

Sassinak had an instant memory of the gorbnari, the wide-winged flyers of Myriad, who preyed on its native sealife. Not birds, not fishes - exactly - but gorbnari swooping down for krissi.

“So if I asked you,” Dupaynil went on, “whether gorbnari were gray or brown, you’d know - “

“That they were pale yellow on top and white underneath, with a red crest on the males… I see what you mean.”

“Since the Myriad colony was wiped out, and not replanted, the references to native wildlife are pretty vague. In fact, the only comment on gorbnari gives their color as ‘mid-to-light brown, lighter below’ because it’s taken from the first scoutship report - and that ship sampled on the other continent, where they are that color.”

“So you’re going to mingle with the crew, and check that sort of thing, stuff that doesn’t come up in the records at all?”

“Right. And of course, I’ll fill you in on whatever I find.”

Dupaynil was the last incoming crewman - when Sassinak thought about it, the perfect arrangement, since anyone transferring out so late would be noticed. The orders came through for them to leave, and soon they were on their way to their assigned position. Sassinak wasn’t sure whether to be glad or sorry that she had no chance to attend Huron’s funeral. Soon she was far too busy to brood about it.

For one thing, she had to supervise the continuing education of five newly “hatched” ensigns, fresh from the Academy, and eager to prove themselves capable young officers. Fordeliton handled their assignment slots, but she had an interview with each one, and chaired the regular evaluation sessions. It was a very mixed group. Claas, one of the largest heavyworlder women Sassinak had ever seen, came with a special recommendation from Sass’s old friend Seglawin at the Academy. (“I can trust you,” she’d written, “to perceive the sensitivity and generosity of this ensign - she’s bright, of course, and reasonably aggressive, but still too easily hurt. Toughen her, if you can, without sending her straight into the Separationists.”) Sassinak looked up - and up - at the broad face with its heavy brow and cheekbones, and mentally shook her head. If this girl was still oversensitive, after four years in the Academy, she had small chance of curing it.

Timran, stocky and just above the minimum height, had a low rank in the graduating class, and an air of suppressed glee. Clearly he was thrilled (surprised, even?) to have made it through commissioning, and equally delighted to have such a good assignment - and such a commanding officer. Sassinak was used to male appreciation, but his wide - eyed admiration almost embarrassed her. She wondered if she’d really been that callow herself. His only redeeming characteristic, according to the file, was “luck.” As his pilot instructor said, “Under normal circumstances, this cadet is adequate at best, and too often careless or rash. But in emergencies, everything seems to come together, and he will do five wrong things that add up to the best combination. If he continues to show this flair in active duty, he may be worth training as a scoutship pilot, or a junior gunnery officer.”

Gori, on the other hand, was a quiet, studious, almost prim young man who had ranked high in academics and sports, but only average in initiative. “The born supply officer,” his report said. “Meticulous, precise, will do exactly what he is told, but does not react well in chaotic situations. He should do well in a large crew, and ultimately onstation in a noncombat capacity. Note that this is not lack of courage; he does not panic in danger - but he does not exceed his orders even when this is desirable.”

Kayli and Perran were more “average,” in that their abilities seemed to be all on one level. Physically they were something else. Kayli was a stunning diminutive brunette, who could have had a new partner every night if she’d wanted it. What she wanted, apparently, was Gori. Sassinak was not surprised to find that they were already engaged, and planned to marry at the end of their first cruise. What did surprise her was Kayli’s continuing disinterest in the other men - very few people were exclusive in their relationships. But despite all suggestions, Kayli spent her off-duty time with Gori, much of it in the junior officer’s mess with books spread all over the table. Perran, not at all as overtly attractive as Kayli, turned out to be the vamp of the group. She had an insatiable interest in electronics… and men. Ford’s description of her stalk of the senior communications tech gave Sassinak her first relaxed laugh in weeks.

As the trip progressed, Claas seemed content enough, if quiet, and Sassinak noted that she seemed to spend some free time with Perran. It seemed like an odd combination, but Sassinak knew better than to interfere with what worked. Timran got into one scrape after another, always apologetic but undaunted as he discovered the inexorable laws of nature all over again. Sassinak wondered if he’d ever grow up - it didn’t seem likely at this point. Only her experience with other such youngsters, who surprisingly grew into competent adults if given the chance and a few years, reassured her. Gori and Kayli occupied each other, and Perran, having caught her first man, soon started looking for another. Sassinak felt a twinge of sympathy for the unlucky quarry; Perran was none too gentle in her disposal of the former lover.

Dupaynil turned up evidence of several anomalies in the crew. He said quite frankly that most of them were probably innocent errors - data entered wrong in the computer, or misunderstandings of one sort or another. But sorting them out meant hours of painstaking work, correlating all the data and holding more interviews to recheck vital facts.

“I had no idea that the personnel files were this sloppy,” grumbled Sass. “Surely most of these must mean something.” They were back to Prosser, and Sassinak was careful to say nothing about her earlier reaction to his holo in the files. His eyes weren’t quite as close together as she’d thought earlier. Dupaynil passed over the file with a shrug - nothing wrong with it at all.

“Have you ever really looked at your own file?” asked Dupaynil with a sly smile.

“Well, no - not carefully.” She had never wanted to brood over the truncated past it would have revealed.

“Look.” He called up her file onscreen, and ran it through his expanded database backups. “According to this, you had two different grades in advanced analytic geometry in prep school… and you never turned in your final project in social history… and you were involved in a subversive organization back on Myriad - “

“What!” Sassinak peered at it. “I wasn’t in anything - “

“A club called Ironmaids?” Dupaynil grinned.

“Oh.” She had forgotten completely about Ironmaids, the local Carin Coldae fan club that she and Caris had founded in their last year of elementary school. She and Caris and - who was that other girl? Glya? - had chosen the name, and written to the address on the bottom of the Carin Coldae posters. And almost a year later a packet had come for them: a club charter, replica Carin Coldae pocket lasers, and eight copies of the newest poster. Her parents wouldn’t let her put it up where anyone could see it, so she’d had it on the inside of her closet door. “But it wasn’t subversive,” she said to Dupaynil. “It was just a kid’s club, a fan club.”

“Affiliated with the Carin Coldae cult, right?”

“Cult? We weren’t a cult.” Even her parents, conservative as they were. had not objected to the club… although they’d insisted that a life-size poster of Carin Coldae, in snug silver bodysuit with a blazing laser in each hand, was not the perfect living room decoration.

Dupaynil laughed aloud. “You see, captain, how easy it is for someone to be caught up in something without realizing it? I suppose you didn’t know that Carin Coldae’s vast earnings went into the foundation and maintenance of a terrorist organization?”

“They did?”

“Oh yes. All you little girls - and boys, too, I must admit - who sent in your bits of change and proofs of purchase were actually funding the Sector XI resurgents, as nasty a bunch of racist bullies as you could hope to find. The Iron Chain, they called themselves. Carin herself, I understand, found them romantic - or one of them, anyway. She was convinced they were misunderstood freedom fighters, and of course they encouraged that view. So your little Ironmaids club, in which I presume you all felt brave and grown-up, was a front for terrorists… and you had your brush with subversive activity.”

Sassinak thought back to their six months of meetings, before they got tired of the routine. The little charter and handbook, which had them elect officers and discuss “old business” and “new business” according to strict rules. The cookies they’d made and served from a Carin Coldae plate, and the fruit juice they’d drunk from special glasses. If that was subversive activity, how did anyone keep doing it without suffering terminal boredom? She remembered the day they’d disbanded - not to quit watching Carin Coldae films, of course, but because the club itself bored them stiff They’d gone back to climbing in the nearby hills, where they could pretend that villains were hiding behind the rocks.

“I think the most subversive thing we did,” she said finally, “was decide that our school principal looked exactly like the villain in White Rims. I still have trouble believing - “

Dupaynil shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter. Security knows that nearly all the kids in those clubs were innocent. But some of them went on to another level of membership, and a few of those ended up joining the Iron Chain… and those have been a continuing problem.”

“I remember… maybe a year after we quit holding meetings, we got another mailout, suggesting that we form a senior club. But we’d lost interest, and anyway that was just before the colony was taken.”

“Right. Now - can you explain the two grades in analytic geometry? Or the uncompleted social history project?”

Sassinak frowned, trying to remember. “As far as I know, I always got top grades in math… what are those? Oh… sure… they were trying a pass/fail system, and gave all of us dual grades in math that semester. It’s not two grades, really; it’s the same grade expressed two ways. As for social history - I can’t remember anything.”

“You see? Three little things, and you can’t clear up all of them. And yet it’s not important. If we had a pattern - if you seemed to have incompletes in all your social science classes - it might matter. But this is nothing, and most of the odd things in your crew’s records are nothing. Still, we must look into all of it, even so silly a thing as a child’s fan club.”

Among the odd bits Dupaynil turned up in the next week were a young man who’d chosen to use his matrilineal name rather than his far more prominent patrilineal title, and yet another person of heavyworlder genetic background posing as a normal human. Sassinak came in on the interviews of both these, but neither had the unstable personality of the poisoner. The young man insisted that he’d joined Fleet to get away from his father’s influence - he’d been pushed to enter the diplomatic service, but preferred to work with his hands. The heavyworlder said frankly that heavyworlders looked down on him, but that he had found acceptance and even friendships among the lightweights. “If they know I’m from a heavyworld family, they’re afraid of my strength - I can tell by the way they hold back. But I can pass as a strong normal, and that suits me just fine. No, I wouldn’t help heavyworlders expand their influence - why should I? They’re snobs - they teased me and threw me out for being a weakling, as if they really were superior. They’re not. Let ‘em stay on their worlds, and let me go where I fit in.”

Dupaynil, Sassinak noticed, seemed far more sympathetic to the young man escaping a pushy father than to the heavyworlder. She herself found both convincing.

They had been on-station a month when their detectors picked up a ship off the normal FTL paths. Its IFF and passive beam gave its ownership as General Freight (again! thought Sass), but from the passive beam they could strip its origin code… and that was a heavyworld system.

Once more theZaid-Dayan took up the chase, guided by its Ssli perception of the quarry’s disturbance of space. And once more it soon became clear that the quarry was headed for someplace unusual.

Chapter Fifteen

“And just what is this?” No one answered the navigation officer’s murmur; Sassinak leaned over to see what identification data were coming up on the screen. Nav went on. “Mapped… hmm… on the EEC survey, Ryxi on the fifth planet, which is on this side of the system, and a human team dropped to do some exploration on the fourth, called Ireta. Wonder why it’s got a name, if it doesn’t have a colony and this was the first exploration team. Something about mesozoic fauna, whatever that means.”

“New contact: ship on insystem drive boosting out of the fifth planet’s system - “ That went up on the main screen, where they could all see it. “No leech beacon - d’you want to try its IFF, captain?”

“No - if they’re what I think, another pirate escort, they’ll notice that,” said Sass. “But… Ryxi?”

“Dropped here some forty years ago - colonial permit - “

“No one’s ever suggested Ryxi were involved in this kind of thing,” said Dupaynil, looking as confused as Sassinak felt. “Certainly not in anything with heavyworlders. They hate them worse than they do normal humans.”

The Zaid-Dayan crept cautiously after the other two ships, which now seemed to be making for Ireta, a journey of some days on insystem drive. Sassinak wondered what someone might be planning - another “accidental” missile release? Some other dangerous accident? Dupaynil had come up with nothing definite, and although she had moved both the most likely suspects away from their usual duties, that didn’t make her feel any safer. She made sure that none of the same people were assigned duty in the quadrant missile rooms, that the stewards’ duties were rotated differently. What else could she do? Nothing, really.

Day by day the two target ships arced toward the distant fifth planet. Sassinak had time to look it up in the Index for herself, and check out the reference to “mesozoic.” One of her new Jigs, a biology enthusiast, rattled on to everyone about the possibilities. Huge reptilian beasts from prehuman history on old Terra, superficially similar to some races of reptiloid aliens, but really quite stupid… Sassinak grinned to herself. Had she ever had that kind of enthusiasm, and been so unaware of everyone else’s lack of interest? She thought not, but indulged him when he showed her his favorite slides from his files.

Fordeliton happened into the middle of this, and turned out to be another enthusiast, though more restrained. “Dinosaurs!” he said. “Old Terran, or near enough - “

“Pirates,” said Sassinak firmly. “Dangerous, or near enough.”

By the time they were close enough to be sure the quarry was intending to land, Sassinak had to worry what the other ship was doing. This could not be a colony raid, as on Myriad - there was no colony to raid. The ship that had come up from the Ryxi world was not holding a particularly good position for an escort - in fact, it almost seemed to be unaware of the transport. Could it be accidental? A ship on regular movement between planets?

The transport began to decelerate, dropping toward the planet. Behind, the second vessel seemed to be heading for a stable orbit. So far neither had detected theZaid -Dayanin its stealth mode. But she could not take the cruiser to the surface leaving a possible enemy up in orbit… yet she wanted to be sure just what the transport was up to. She needed two ships… and there was a way…

“Take a shuttle down, and see where they’re going. This world doesn’t have a landing grid, that we know of - hard to believe they’re actually going to land, but what else could they be doing? Stay in their dead zone, until they’re committed to a site, and then if you can possibly get away unseen, do it. Stay below and behind, until their landing pattern - “

“What about a landing party?” Timran’s dark eyes flashed.

“Ensign, I just said I wanted you to observe and return without alarming them - you don’t need a landing party. Just stay behind ‘em, low and fast, and once they’re down get back here. If I give you a troop of marines, you’ll try to find a use for ‘em.”

Ford shook his head as they watched the ensigns clamber into the shuttle hatch. “You know Timran would try to take on that entire transport by himself - “

“Yes, that’s why I wanted Gori with him. Gori’s got sense, besides being a good shuttle pilot. I just hope they follow orders.”

“Oh, they will. You’ve got ‘em scared proper.” The docking bay alarm hooted, and the load crew scurried for airlocks. The docking hatch opened, flowerlike, and the shuttle elevator lifted it level with the ship’s outer hull. Sassinak watched the flight deck officer signal the shuttle to start engines, and then boost away from theZaid-Dayan.

The shuttle made an uneventful approach to the transport, and on their screens appeared to be snugged into the transport’s blind spot. From high orbit, theZaid-Dayan’s technicians observed the next few descending circuits of the planet. Nothing indicated that the transport had realized it had a tail. Nor did any signal come from the ground. Then Com picked up a landing beacon, and radio signals from below.

“There’s the grid… weird… it’s on the edge of that plateau.”

“City? Town?”

“Nothing. Well… some infrared indication of cleared fields, plantings… but nothing big enough to put in a grid like that.”

“We can take that out easily enough,” said Arly. “One lousy transport and landing grid - “

“But what are they after? There’s no colony to raid for slaves, nothing to raid for minerals or other goods. Why’s there a grid here, and what are they doing here?”

“Wait a minute - that’s got to be artificial - “ Onto the main screen went a shot of something that looked like a working open-pit mine. “I haven’t seen anything like that without someone nearby. A mine? Iron? Copper?”

Sassinak looked at the puzzled faces around her, and grinned. It had to be important. And this time she had a degree of freedom to act. “A landing grid, a beacon, an open pit mine, and no city - on a world supposedly not open for colonization. I think it’s time we stripped our friend’s IFF.”

“Right, captain.” The Com officer flipped a switch, and then came back on line, sounding puzzled, “Captain, it’s a colony supply hauler, on contract to that Ryxi colony.”

“And I’m a rich ambassador’s wife. Try again.” A screen came up at her right hand as the Com officer insisted. “Nothing wrong with the IFF signal, captain, I’d swear it. Look.”

It looked clean.Mazer Star, captained by one Argemon Godheir, owned by Kirman, Vini amp; Godheir, Ltd., registration numbers, crew size, mass cargo and volume… every detail crisp and unmistakable. Com had already queried the database:Mazer Star was a thirty-seven year old hull from a respectable shipyard, refitted twice at the normal intervals, ownership as given, and no mysterious disappearances or changes in use.

“So what is it doing here?” asked Sass, voicing everyone’s confusion. She looked back at the Com section, and the Com watch all shrugged. “Well. They’re acting as if we don’t exist, so let’s see how close we can get.”

WhateverMazer Star was doing, it was not looking for a cruiser in its area; Sassinak began to feel a wholly irrational glee at how close they were able to come. Either their stealth gear was better than even she had supposed, or the stubby little insystem trader had virtually no detection gear (or the most incompetent radar operator in seven systems). Finally they were within tractor distance, and Sassinak ordered the shields full on and stealth gear off. And a transmission by tight-beam radio, although she felt she could almost have shouted across the space between ships. Certainly could have, in an atmosphere.

“Mazer Star, Mazer Star! FSP CruiserZaid-Dayan toMazer Star - “

“What the - who the formative novations areyou! Get off our tail or we’ll - “ That voice was quickly replaced by another, and a screen image of a stocky man in a captain’s uniform.

“Mazer Star, Godheir commanding, to Federation shipZaid-Dayan… where did you come from? Did you receive the same distress message?”

Distress message? What was he talking about? Sassinak took over from the Com officer, and spoke to him herself.

“Captain Godheir, this is Commander Sassinak of theZaid-Dayan. We’re tracking pirates, captain. What do you mean, distress beacon? Can you explain your presence in company with a heavyworlder transport?”

“Heavyworlder transport? Where?” On the screen, his face looked both ways as if he expected one to come bursting through his bulkheads.

“Below - it’s going in to land. Now what’s this about a distress beacon? And what kind of range and detection gear do you have?”

His answers, if a bit disorganized, quickly made sense out of the past several days. On long-term contract to supply the Ryxi colony, he’d recently returned to the system from a Ryxi relay-point. “You know they prefer to hire human crews,” he said with a twinkle. “Routine flying’s too boring for them, or something like that. We’d picked up some incoming specialists, and the supplies. Unloaded over there - “ He waved in a way that Sassinak interpreted as meaning the planet in question. “Then we heard about some kind of problem here, a human exploration team that needed help, maybe a mutiny situation. So we came over - we can land without a grid, you see - But if you’re here instead, then I guess we’re not needed. You certainly gave us a start, Commander, that you did - “

“You may be needed yet,” said Sass. “How were you supposed to find this missing team?” Godheir gave her the reference numbers, and said he’d detected a faint beacon signal from near the coast. While they were talking, Com suddenly waved wildly.

Timran, piloting the number one shuttle of theZaid-Dayan, felt for the first time since coming on active duty like a real Fleet officer. On the track of slavers or pirates or something, in command of his own ship, however small. Actually it was better small - more of an adventure. Gori, hunched in the copilot’s seat, was actually pale.

“This is really it,” Timran said, with another quick sideways glance. He had said it before.

“Don’t look at me, Tim - keep an eye on your sensors.”

“We’re doing just fine.” In his mind’s eye, he saw himself reporting back to Commander Sassinak, telling her exactly what she needed to know, saw her smiling at him, praising him…

“Tim! You’re sliding up on him!”

“It’s all right.” It wasn’t, quite, but he eased back on the power, and settled the shuttle into the center of the transport’s blind cone, where turbulence from its drive prevented its sensors from detecting them. It was harder than he’d thought, keeping the shuttle in the safe zone. But he could do it, and he’d follow it down to the bottom of the sea, if he had to. Too bad he didn’t have enough armament to take it himself. He toyed with the idea of enabling the little tractor beam that the shuttles used around space stations, what the engineering chief called the “parking brake,” but realized it wouldn’t have much effect on something the mass of that transport.

“This is what I thought about during finals,” he said, hoping to get some kind of reaction from Gori.

“Huh. No wonder you came in only twelfth from the bottom.”

“Somebody has to be on the bottom. If they didn’t think I could do the work, they wouldn’t have let me graduate. And the captain gave me this job - “

“To get you out of her hair while she deals with that escort or whatever it is. Krims, Tim, you spend too much time daydreaming about glory, and not enough - lookout!”

Reflexively, Tim yanked on the controls, and the shuttle skimmed over a jagged peak, its drive whining at the sudden load. “She said stay low,” he said, but Gori snorted.

“You could let me fly. I can keep my mind on my work.”

“She gave it to me!” In that brief interval, the transport had pulled ahead. “And I’ve got better ratings as a shuttle pilot.”

Gori said nothing more, which suited Timran fine right then. Hehad cut it a little close - although he was certainly low enough for fine-detail on the tapes. Now he concentrated on the landscape ahead, wild and rough as it was, and tried to anticipate where the transport would land. There - that plateau. “Look at that,” he breathed. “A landing grid. A monster - “ The transport sank toward it, seeming even larger now that it was leaving its own element and coming to rest.

He barely saw the movement - something small, but clearlymade, not natural - when a bolt of colored light from the transport reached out to it. “Look out!” he yelled at Gori, and slammed his hand on the tractor beam control. The shuttle lurched, as the badly aimed beam grabbed for anything in its way. Tim’s hands raced over the controls, bringing the shuttle to a near hover, and catching the distant falling object in the tractor beam just before it hit a low cliff.

“Anairsled!” breathed Gori. “Oh gods, Tim, what have youdone!”

“Did you see those murderers?” His teeth were clenched as he worked the beam to set the airsled down as gently as possible. “Those dirty, rotten, slimy - “

“Tim! That’s not the point! We’re supposed to be invisible!”

All the latent romanticism burst free. “We’re Fleet! We just saved lives, that’s what we’re supposed to do.”

“That’s not what the captain ordered us to do. Tim, you just told everyone, from the transport to whoever they’re meeting, that we’re here. That Fleet’s here.”

“So… so we’ll just… mmm… we’ll just tell them they’re under arrest, for… uh… attempting to…uh…”

“Illegal use of proscribed weaponry in a proscribed system is one charge you’re looking for.” Gori was punching buttons on his console. “Kipling’s copper Coms! The captain’s going to be furious, and I’ve heard about her being furious. She’s going to eat us alive, buddy, and it’s all your fault.”

“She’d want us to save lives…” Tim didn’t sound quite so certain now. For one thing, that transport had lifted, and then settled itself firmly on the grid. He sent the shuttle forward again, slowly, and wondered whether to stand guard over the airsled or threaten the transport, or what. It had seemed so simple at the time…

The voice in his earplug left him in no doubt. “I told you,” the captain’s crisp voice said, “to follow that transport down cautiously, with particular care not to be noticed. Did you understand that order?”

“Yes, ma’am, but - “

“Yet I find that you have engaged a possibly hostile vessel, making sure that you would be noticed; you may have damaged Federation citizens - “ That wasn’t fair at all; it was the crash that damaged them, and he hadn’t caused the crash… at least, he hadn’t shot the airsled, although his handling of the tractor beam had been less than deft. “Moreover, you’ve made it necessary for me to act - or abandon you, and if you were alone that would be a distinct temptation!” Gori smirked at this; he was getting the same tirade in his own earplug. “Now that you’ve started a riot, young man, you’d better stay in control of things until I get there.”

“But how -?” Tim began, but the com cut off. He was breathing fast, and felt cold. He looked over at Gori, no longer smirking. “What do we do now?”

Gori, predictably, had a reference. “Fleet Landing Force Directives, Chapter 17, paragraph 34.2 - “

“I don’t care where it is - what does it say?”

Gori went on, pale but determined, with his quotation. “It says if the landing party - which is us - is outnumbered or outgunned, and Fleet personnel are in danger of capture or injury - “

“They’re civilians,” said Timran. As he said it he wondered - but surely anyone on planet had to be civilians, or they would have known Fleet was down here.

“Really? Those look like Fleet duty uniforms to me.” Gori had a magnifier to his eye. “Shipboard working… Anyway, when personnel are in danger of capture or injury, and the landing party is outnumbered, then the decision to withdraw must be made by the commander of the orbiting ship, unless such ship - “

“She told us to stay here and stay in charge - “

“So that’s paragraph 34.3: In cases where rescue or protection of the Fleet personnel is deemed possible or of paramount importance, the pilot of the landing party shuttle will remain with the craft at all times, and the copilot will lead the rescue party - “

“That’s backwards!” said Tim, thinking of Gori’s character.

“That’s regulations,” said Gori. “Besides, if we just hover here we can keep anyone from bothering them. By the way, d’you have the shields up?”

He hadn’t thought of it, and thumbed the control just as the transport’s single turret angled their way. Gori was watching the plateau now, and commented on the people, clumped near the ship. “Native? This planet’s not supposed to be inhabited at all, but - “

“They might shoot, Gori,” Tim pointed out. He was glad to hear that his voice was steady, though his hands trembled slightly. He’d never expected that the mere sight of a blast cannon muzzle aimed his way would be so disturbing. Were shuttle shields strong enough, at this distance, to hold against a blast cannon?

Time passed. Down below still figures slumped in an airsled crumpled against the rocky face of the plateau. Above, the transport’s blast cannon continued to point directly at them. With only two of them aboard, Tim couldn’t see asking Gori to go out and check on the injured (dead? He hoped not) sled passengers. Should he hail the transport? Command them to send medical aid? What if they didn’t? What if they fired? Gori maintained a prudent silence, broken only by observations on activity around the transport. It felt like years before the com unit burped, and put the Navigation Senior Officer on the line. “Not long,” Bures said. “We’ve got a fix on you and the transport. How’s it going?”

Tim swallowed hard. “Oh… nothing much. We’re just hovering above the sled - “ “Don’t move,” Bures advised. “We’re coming in very fast, and if you move we could run right over you.”

“Where are you going to land?” But no one answered that question; the line had cut off. Gori and Tim exchanged anxious glances before settling to their watch again. Tim let his eyes stray to the clock - surely it had been longer than that.

Even through the shields they heard and felt the shock-waves of theZaid-Dayan’s precipitous descent. “Krims!” said Gori. “She’s using the emergency insystem - “ Another powerful blast of wind and noise, and the great cruiser hung above the plateau, its Fleet and Federation insignia defining the bow. Clouds of dust roiled away from it, temporarily blinding Tim even in the shuttle; when it cleared, Tim could see the transport shudder at its berth. “ - drive,” finished Gori, paler than before. Tim, for once, said nothing.

“The only good thing about all this,” said Sassinak, when they were back aboard, “is that I know you can’t be a saboteur, because you weren’t on board when the sabotage occurred, and it would have required immediate access. Of course you might be in collusion…”

Tim tried to swallow, unsuccessfully. It wasn’t that she bellowed, or turned red, the way some of his instructors had when he had been particularly difficult. She looked perfectly calm, if you didn’t notice the pale rim around her mouth, or the muscles bunched along her jaw. Her voice was no louder than usual. But he had the feeling that his bones were exposed to her gaze, not to mention the daydreams in his skull… and they seemed a lot less glamorous right then. Even, as she said, stupid, short-sighted, rash, and unjustified. She had left them hovering where they were until the locals (whoever they were) had extricated the injured and moved them into the cruiser. Then the cruiser’s own tractor beam had flicked out and towed them in as if the shuttle were powerless and pilotless. Once in the shuttle bay, they’d been ordered to their quarters until “the captain’s ready for you.” Gori had said nothing while they waited, and Tim had imagined himself cashiered and stranded on this malodorous lump of unsteady rock.

“I’ll expect you to recite the relevant sections of regulations. Ensign, the next time you see me. I’m sure your cohort can give you the references.” That was her only dig at Gori, who had after all been innocent. “You may return to your quarters, and report for duty at shift-change.” He didn’t ask where: it would be posted in his file. He and Gori saluted, and retired without tripping over anything - at that point Tim was mildly surprised to find out his body worked as usual.

Curiosity returned on the way to their quarters. He looked sideways at Gori. No help there. But who were the husky, skin-clad indigenes? They had to be human, unless everything he’d been told about evolution was wrong. Why had someone built a landing grid on an uncharted planet? Who were the people in the Fleet uniforms, if they weren’t from this ship?

Alone with Gori in their quarters, he had no one to ask. Gori said nothing, simply called up the Fleet Regulations: XXIII Edition on screen, and highlighted the passages the captain had mentioned. The computer spat out a hardcopy, and Gori handed it to Tim. Duties, obligations, penalties… he tried not to let it sink in, but it got past his defenses anyway. Disobeying a captain’s direct order in the presence of a hostile (or presumed hostile) force was grounds for anything the captain chose to do about it, including summary execution. She could have left him there, left both of them there, including innocent Gori, if she’d wanted to, and no one in Fleet would have had a quibble.

For the first time, Tim thought about the stories he’d heard… why the ship was so long in the repair yard, what kind of engagement that had been. A colony plundered, while Sassinak did nothing, in hopes of catching more pirates later. More than two or three people had died there; she had let them die, to save others. He didn’t like that a bit. Did she? The ones who’d talked about it said not, but… if she really cared, how could she? Men and women, children, people of all sorts - rich, poor, in between - had died because she didn’t do what he had done - she didn’t come tearing in to save them.

Gradually, in the hollow silence between his bunk and Gori’s, Tim began to build a new vision of what the Fleet really was, and what his captain had intended. What he had messed up, with his romantic and gallant nonsense. Those people in the colony had died, so that Sassinak could trace their attackers to powers behind them. Some of her crew had died, trying to save the children, and then destroy a pirate base. This very voyage probably had something to do with the same kind of trouble, and saving two lives just didn’t mean that much. If he himself had been killed before his rash act - and for the first time he really faced that chilling possibility of not-being - it would have done Fleet no harm, and possibly his captain some good.

When the chime rang for duty, Tim set off for his new job (cleaning sludge from the filters) with an entirely new attitude. He fully intended to become the reformed young officer the Fleet so needed, and for several hours worked diligently. No more jokes, no more wild notions: sober reality. He recited the regulations under his breath, just in case the captain should appear in this smelly little hole.

In this mood of determined obedience to nature and nature’s god in the person of his captain, he didn’t even smile when Jig Turner, partner in several earlier escapades, appeared in the hatchway.

“I guess you know,” said Turner.

“I know if I don’t finish these filters, we’ll be breathing this stink.”

“This isn’t bad - you should smell the planet’s atmosphere.” Turner lounged against the bulkhead, patently idle, with the air of someone who desperately wants to tell a secret.

“You’ve been out?” Despite himself, Tim couldn’t fail to ask that.

“Well, no. Not out exactly, but we all smelled it when they brought the injuries in. Worse than this… like organic lab.” Turner leaned closer. “Listen, Tim - did you really fire on that transport?”

“No! I put a tractor on the airsled, that’s all.”

“I wish youhad blown it.”

“I didn’t have anything to blow it with. But why? The captain’s mad enough that I caught the sled.”

“D’you know what that transport was?” Of course he didn’t, and he shook his head. Turner went on, lowering her voice. “Heavyworlders.”

“So?”

“Sothink, Tim. Heavyworlders, meatheads, in a transport - tried to tell the captain they were answering a distress beacon, but it scans like a colony ship. To a proscribed planet… which has heavyworlders on italready.”

“Huh?” He couldn’t follow this. “The ones in the airsled?”

“No. The ones on the ground… near the transport, and getting the victims out… youmust have been watching, Tim, even you.”

“I saw them, but they didn’t look like heavyworlders… exactly.” Now he came to think of it, they had been big and well-muscled.

“It’s a heavyworlderplot,” Turner went on quickly. “They wanted the planet - there was a mutiny, I heard, in a scouting expedition, and the heavyworlders started eating raw meat, and killed the others and ate them - “

“I don’t believe it!” But he would, if he let himself think about it. Eating one sentient being had to be the same as eating another: that’s why the prohibition. He’d had an aunt who wouldn’t eat anything synthesized from perennial plants, on the grounds that shrubs and trees might be sentient.

“The thing is, if one heavyworlder can mutiny, why not all? There’s already this bunch of them living free out there, eating meat and wearing skins - what’s to stop the ones on this ship from going crazy, too? Maybe it’s the smell in the air, or something. But a lot of us think the captain should put ‘em all under guard. Think of the heavyworld marines… we wouldn’t stand a chance if they mutinied.”

Tim thought about it a moment, while screwing the access port back on the filter he’d just cleaned, and shook his head. “No - I can’t see anyone from this ship turning on the captain - “

“But they could. They could be planning something right now, and if we don’t warn her - “

Tim grinned. “I don’t think. Turner, that the captain needs our warning to know where danger is.”

“You mean you won’t sign the petition? Or come with us to talk to her?”

“No. And frankly I think you’re nuts to bother her with this.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Commander Sassinak, Tim saw, looked as immaculate as usual, though she must have gone through the same narrow passages that had smudged his uniform. She gave him a frosty smile, which vanished as she met Turner’s eyes. “Tell me, Lieutenant Turner, did you ever happen to read the regulations on shipboard conspiracy?”

“No, captain, but - “

“No. Nor were you serving on this ship when heavyworlder marines - the very ones you’re so afraid of - saved the ship and my life. Had they been inclined to mutiny. Lieutenant, they’d have had more than one opportunity. You exhibit a regrettable prejudice, and an even more regrettable tendency to faulty logic. The actions of heavyworlders on an exploration team more than four decades ago say nothing about the loyalty of my crew. I trust them a long sight more than I trust you - they’ve given me reason. I don’t want to hear any more of this, or that you’ve been spreading such rumors. Is that clear?”

“Yes, captain.” At Sass’s nod. Turner hurried away. Tim stood at attention, entirely too aware of his smelly, stained hands and messy uniform. The captain’s lips quirked: not a smile, but something that required control not to be.

“Learned anything. Ensign Timran?”

“Yes, captain. I… uh… memorized the regulations - “

“About time. As it happens, and I don’t want you getting swelled head about this, things have worked out very well. From this point on, consider that you acted under orders at all times: is that clear?”

It wasn’t clear at all, but he tried to conceal his confusion. His captain sighed, obviously noticing the signs, and explained. “The other ship, Tim, the one that appeared from the Ryxi planet, was not a pirate: it was a legal transport, on contract to supply the Ryxi, replying to a distress signal.”

“Yes, captain.” That was always safe, even though the rest of it made no sense at all.

“For political reasons, which you will no doubt hear discussed later, your rash intervention has turned out to benefit Fleet and the FSP. It is necessary that those outside this ship believe your actions were on my orders. Therefore, you are not to mention, ever, to anyone, at any time, in any place, that your actions in the shuttle were your own bright idea. You did what I told you to do - is that clear now?”

Slightly clearer, and from the tone in her voice he had better understand, with no more questions.

“I’ve also told Gori, and all previous comments in the files have been wiped.” Which meant it was serious… but also that he wasn’t going to have that around his neck forever. Dawning hope must have shown on his face, for hers softened slightly. “Timran, listen to me, and pay attention. You’ve got natural good luck, and it’s priceless… but don’t depend on it. It takes more than good luck to make admiral.”

“Yes, captain. Uh - if I may - are the people all right? The ones in the airsled?”

“Yes. They’re quite well, and you may even meet them someday. Just remember what I said.”

“Yes, captain.”

“And clean up before mess.” With that she was gone, a vision of grace and authority that haunted his life for years.

Chapter Sixteen

Sassinak returned to the bridge by way of Troop Deck, as she wanted to manage a casual encounter with the marine commander. She had already realized that the combination of events might alarm some of the crew, and inflame suspicion of heavyworlders.

She found Major Currald inspecting a rack of weapons; he gave her a somewhat abstracted nod. “Captain - if you’ve a moment, there’s something - “

“Certainly, Major.” He led the way to his office, and Sass noticed that he had seating for both heavyworlders and smaller frames. She chose neither, instead turning to look at the holos on the wall across from his desk. A team of futbal players in clean uniforms posed in neat rows, action shots of the same players splattered with mud, a much younger Currald rappelling down a cliff, two young marine officers (one of them Currald? She couldn’t tell) in camouflage facepaint and assault rifles. A promotion ceremony; Currald getting his “tracks.” Someone not Currald, the holo in a black frame.

“My best friend,” said Currald, as her eyes fixed on that one. She turned to face him; he was looking at the holo himself. “He was killed at Jerma, in the first wave, while I was still on a down shuttle. He’d named his son after me.” He cleared his throat, a bass rasp. “That wasn’t what I asked to speak to you about, captain. I hesitated to come up to Main Deck and bother you, but - “ He cleared his throat again. “I’m sorry to say I expect some trouble.”

Sass nodded. “So do I, and I wanted to tell you first what I’m going to do.” His face stiffened, the traditional heavyworlder response to any threat. “Major Currald, I know you’re a loyal officer; if you’d wanted to advance heavyworlder interests at my expense, you’d have done it long before. We’ve discussed politics before; you know where I stand. Your troops have earned my trust, earned it in battle, where it counts. Whoever that saboteur is, I’m convinced it’s not one of your people, and I’m not about to let anyone pressure me into thinking so.”

He was surprised; she was a little annoyed that he had not trusted her trust. “But I know a lot of the crew think - “

“A lot of the crewdon’t think,” she interrupted crisply. “They worry, or they react, but they don’t think. Kipling’s bunions! The heavyworlder mutiny here was forty- three years ago: before you were born, and I was only a toddler on Myriad. None of your marines are old enough to have had anything to do with that. Those greedyguts would-be colonists set out months ago - probably while we were chasing that first ship. But scared people put two and two together and get the Annual Revised Budget Request.” At that he actually grinned, and began to chuckle. Sass grinned back at him. “I trust you, Major, and I trust you to know if your troops are loyal. You’ll hear, I’m sure, that people have asked me to ‘do something’ - throw you all in the brig or something equally ridiculous - and I want you to know right now, before the rumors take off, that I’m not even thinking about that. Clear?”

“Very clear, captain. And thank you. I thought… I thought perhaps you’d feel you had to make some concession. And I’d talked to my troops, the heavyworlders, and we’d agreed to cooperate with any request.” Sass felt tears sting her eyes… and there were some who thought heavyworlders were always selfish, never able to think of the greater good. How many of them would have made such an offer, had they been innocent suspects? “You tell your troops. Major, that I am deeply moved by that offer - I respect you, and them, and appreciate your concern. But if no other good comes out of this, the rest of this crew is going to learn that we’reall Fleet: light, heavy, and in-between. And thank you.”

“Thankyou, captain.”

Sassinak found the expected delegation waiting outside the bridge when she got back to the main deck. Their spokesman, ‘Tenant Varhes, supervised the enlisted mess, she recalled. Their concern, he explained in a reedy tenor, was for the welfare of the ship. After all, a heavyworlder had already poisoned officers and crew…

“A mentally imbalanced person,” said Sassinak coldly, “who happened to also be a heavyworlder, poisoned officers - including the marine commander, who happens to be a heavyworlder - and crew, including some heavyworlders. Or have you forgotten that?”

“But if they should mutiny. The heavyworlders on this planet mutinied - “

“Over forty years ago, when your father was a toddler, and Major Currald hadn’t been born. Are you suggesting that heavyworlders have telepathic links to unborn heavyworlders?” That wasn’t logical, but neither were they, and she enjoyed the puzzlement on their faces as they worked their way through it. Before Varhes could start up again, she tried a tone of reasonableness, and saw it affect most of them. “Look here: the heavyworlders on this ship areFleet - not renegades, like those who mutinied here, or those who want to colonize a closed world. They’re our companions, they’ve fought beside us, saved our lives. They could have killed us many times over, if that’s what they had in mind. You think they’re involved in sabotage on the ship - I’m quite sure they’re not. But even so, we’re taking precautions against sabotage. If it should be a heavyworlder, that individual will be charged and tried and punished. But that doesn’t make the others guilty. Suppose it’s someone from Gian-IV - “ a hit at Varhes, whose home world it was, “would that make Varhes guilty?”

“But it’s not the same,” came a voice from the back of the group. “Everybody knows heavyworlders are planet pirates, and now we’ve found them in action - “

“Some planet pirates are heavyworlders, we suspect, and some are not - some are even Ryxi.” That got a nervous laugh. “Or consider the Seti.” A louder laugh. Sassinak let her voice harden. “But this is enough of this. I don’t want to hear any more unfounded charges against loyal members of Fleet, people who’ve put their lives on the line more than once. I’ve already told one ensign to review the regulations on conspiracy, and I commend them to each of you. We have real hostiles out there, people: real would-be planet pirates, who may have allies behind them. We can’t afford finger-pointing and petty prejudices among ourselves. Is that quite clear?” It was; the little group melted away, most of them shamefaced and clearly regretting their impetuous actions. Sass hoped they’d continue to feel that way.

Back on the bridge, Sass reviewed the status of the various parties involved. The heavyworld transport’s captain had entered a formal protest against her action in “interfering with the attempt to respond to a distress beacon.” Her eyebrows rose. The only distress beacon in the story so far had been at the Ryxi planet, the beacon that had sentMazer Star on its way here. The heavyworlder transport had run past there like a grass fire in a windstorm. Now what kind of story could he have concocted, and what kind of faked evidence would be brought out to support it? She grinned to herself; this was becoming even more interesting than before, The “native” heavyworlders, descendants of the original survey and exploration team… or at least of the mutineers of that team… were mulling over the situation but keeping their distance from the cruiser. The transport’s captain had kept in contact with them by radio, however.

TheMazer Star, supply ship for the Ryxi colony, had managed to contact the survivors who’d been in cold-sleep. So far their statements confirmed everything on the distress beacon, with plenty of supporting detail. A mixed exploration team, set down to survey geological and biological resources - including children from the EEC survey vessel, the ARCT-10, that had carried them, highly unusual. Reversion of the heavyworlder team members to carnivory - their subsequent mutiny - murder, torture of adults and children - their attempt to kill all the lightweights by stampeding wildlife into the camp. The lightweights’ successful escape in a life-boat to a seacliff cave, and their decision to go into coldsleep and await the ARCT-10’s return.

Sass ran through the computer file Captain Godheir had transferred, explaining everything from the original mixup that had led the Ryxi to think the human team had been picked up by the ARCT-10, to theMazer Star’s own involvement, after a Thek intrusion. Thek! Sass shook her head over that; this had been complicated enough before; Thek were a major complication in themselves. Godheir’s story, unlike that of the heavyworlder Captain Cruss, made perfect (if ironic) sense, and his records checked out clean with her on-board databanks.Mazer Star was in fact listed as one of three shuttle-supply ships on contract to a Ryxi colony in this system. She frowned at the personnel list Godheir had transferred, of the expedition members stranded after the mutiny. Lunzie? It couldn’t be, she thought - and yet it wasn’t a common name. She’d never run into another Lunzie. Medic, age 36 elapsed - and what did that mean? Then she saw the date of birth, and her breath quickened. By date of birth this woman was ancient - impossibly old - and yet - Sass fed the ID data into the computer, and told Com to ready a low-link to Fleet Sector Headquarters. About time the Admiral knew what had happened, and she was going to need a lot of information. Starting with this.

“Captain?” That was Borander, on the pinnace, with a report of the airsled victims’ condition.

“Go ahead.”

“The woman is conscious now; the medics have cleared her for transport. The man is still out, and they want to package him first.”

“Have you had a contact from their base?”

“No, captain.”

“You may find them confused, remember, and not just by a knock on the head. Don’t argue with them; try to keep them calm until you get a call from their base, or our medical crew gets to them.” The message relayed from Godheir was that both crew were barriered by an Adept, and thought they were members of a Fleet cruiser’s crew. They’d be more than a little surprised to find themselves in a different cruiser, Sass thought, particularly if the barriers had been set with any skill.

And one of these was the team co-leader - essentially the civilian authority of the entire planet. Governor? Sass wondered what she was like, and decided she’d better be set up for a formal interview just in case. Some of these scientist types didn’t think highly of Fleet. She signalled for an escort, then went to her office, and brought up all the screens. One showed the pinnace just landing, and when she plugged in her earpiece, Borander told her that a message had just come from the survivor’s base for the woman. Sass approved a transfer, and watched on the screen as Borander and his pilot emerged to give their passenger privacy. She presumed that the unconscious man was in the rear compartment, with a medic. When the woman - Varian, Sass reminded herself - came out, she seemed to be a vigorous, competent sort. She was certainly used to having her own way, for she took one look around and began to argue with Borander about something. Sass wished she’d insisted on an open channel between them, but she hadn’t expected that anything much would happen. Now she watched as the argument progressed, with hand-waving and head-shaking and - by the expressions - raised voices. She pressed a button, linking her to the bridge, and said “Com, get me an audio of channel three.”

“ - Nothing to do with Aygar and anyone in his generation or even his parents’.” The woman’s voice would have been rich and melodic if she hadn’t been angry - or stressed by the crash, Sass reminded herself. She followed the argument with interest. Borander let himself be overwhelmed - first by the woman’s vehemence, and then by her claim of precedence as planetary governor. Not, Sass was sorry to notice, by her chain of logic, which was quite reasonable. She shook her head at the screen, disappointed - she’d thought Borander had more backbone. Of course the woman was right: the descendants of mutineers were not themselves guilty, and he should have seen that for himself. He should also have foreseen her claim of authority, and avoided the direct confrontation with it. Most of all, Fleet officers shouldn’t be so visibly nervous about their captains’ opinion - acting that way in a bar, as an excuse not to get into a row, was one thing, but here it made him look weak - never a good idea. How could she help him learn that, without losing all his confidence - because he didn’t seem to have much.

So, Co-leader Varian wanted to bring both those young heavyworlders into her office and argue their case right away, did she? She was no doubt primed for an argument with a boneheaded Fleet battleaxe… Sass grinned to herself. Varian might be a planetary governor, of sorts, but she didn’t know much about tactics. Not that she planned to be an enemy. She followed their progress up the ramp and through the ship, but by the time they appeared outside her office, she was waiting to greet them. As she stood and shook hands with Varian, she saw the younger woman’s eyes widen slightly. Whatever she’d thought a cruiser captain was like, this was clearly not it… Not the oldbattleaxe you expected, hmm? thought Sass. Nor the office you expected? For Varian’s eyes had lingered on the crystal sculpture, the oiled wood desk with its stunning pattern of dark red and black graining, the rich blue carpet and white seating. Sass gave the two young heavyworlders a polite greeting. One of them - Winral? - seemed almost dazed by his surroundings, very much the country cousin lost in a world of high technology. The other, poised between hostility and intelligent curiosity, was a very different order of being indeed. If there were wild humans, Sass thought,as there are wild and domestic kinds of some animals, this would be a wild one. All the intelligence, but untamed. On top of that, he was handsome, in a rough-cut way.

She continued with pleasantries, offering a little information, feeling out the three of them. Varian relaxed quickly once she realized Sassinak intended no harm to the innocent descendants of the mutineers. Clearly she felt at home in civilized surroundings and had not gone native. Varian wanted to know the location of the ARCT-10, of course.

“That’s another good question to which I have no answer,” Sass told her, and explained that she’d initiated a query. It hadn’t been listed as destroyed, and no distress beacon had shown up, but it might take days to figure out what might have happened. Then she turned to Aygar, and asked for his personal identification - which he gave as a pedigree. Typical, she thought, for the planet-born: you are who your parents were. Fleet personnel gave ship and service history; scientists, she’d heard, gave university affiliation and publications. Winral’s pedigree, when he gave it, contained some of the same names… and after all the mutineers had been few. They’d probably worked to avoid inbreeding, especially if they weren’t sure how long it would be before a colony ship joined them. Or if one would come at all.

When she began to review the legal status of the younger heavyworlders, Varian interrupted to insist that the planet did, indeed, have a developing sentient species. Sass let her face show surprise, but what she really felt was consternation. Things had been complicated enough before, with the contending claims of mutiny, mining rights, developmental rights derived from successful settlement - and the Theks’ intervention. But all rules changed when a planet had a sentient or developing sentient native species. She was well-read in space law - all senior officers were - but this was more than a minor complication - and one she could not ignore.

Avian, too, Varian told her. Sass thought of the Ryxi, volatile and vain, and decided to keep all mention of Varian’s flyers off the common communication links. At least the Ryxi weren’t as curious as they were touchy - they wouldn’t come winging by just to see what the excitement was all about.

Aygar, meanwhile, wanted to insist that the heavyworlders at the settlement owned the entire planet - and could grant parts of it to the colonists in that transport if they wanted to. Sassinak found herself enjoying his resistance, though she made it clear that under Federation law his people could not claim anything but what they had developed: the mine, the fields, the landing grid. And she strongly advised him to have nothing more to do with the heavyworlder transport, if he wanted to avoid suspicion of a conspiracy.

When she offered him her hand, at the conclusion of the interview, she wondered if he’d try to overwhelm her. If he was as smart as he looked - as he must be to have accomplished what the reports said - he would restrain himself. And so he did. His grip on her hand was only slightly stronger than hers on his, and he released her hand without attempting a throw. She smiled at him, well-pleased by his manner, and made a mental note to try recruiting him for Fleet duty. He’d make a terrific marine, if he could discipline himself like that. She explained that she’d be sending over data cubes on FSP law, standard rights and responsibilities of citizenship, the sections on colony law, and so on, and that she’d supply certain items from the ship’s stores under the shipwreck statutes. Then the two heavyworlders were gone, with an escort back to the outside, and she turned her attention back to Varian.

Varian would clearly rather have left with the heavyworlders, and Sass wondered about that. Why was she being so protective? Most people in her position would, Sass thought, have been more ready to see all the heavyworlders in irons. Had she formed some kind of attachment? She watched the younger woman’s face as she settled into one of the chairs. “A rather remarkable specimen, that Aygar. Are there more like him?” She let her voice carry more than a hint of sensuality, and watched a flush spread across Varian’s cheek. So… did she really think older women had no such interests, or was it jealousy?

“I’ve only encountered a few of his generation - “

“Yes, generation.” Sassinak decided to probe a little deeper. “You’re now forty-three years behind your own. Will you need counseling? For yourself or the others?” She knew they would, but saw Varian push that possibility away. Did she not realize the truth, or was she unwilling to show weakness in front of a stranger?

“I’ll know when I get back to them,” Varian was saying. “The phenomenon hasn’t caught up with me yet.”

Sassinak thought it had, at least in part, but admired the woman for denying it. And what was this going to do to Lunzie? Somehow she wasn’t nearly as worried about her. Varian asked again about the ARCT-10, as if Sassinak would have lied in the first place. A civilian response, Sass thought: she never lied without a good reason, and usually managed without needing to. Someone came in to report that Varian’s sled had been repaired, and Sass brought the interview to a close. Supplies - of course, a planetary governor could requisition anything she required - just contact Ford. Sass knew he would be glad for a chance to get off the plateau and see some of the exotic wildlife. But now…

“Your medic’s name is Lunzie, isn’t it?” she asked. Varian, slightly puzzled, nodded. Sass let her grin widen, enjoying the bombshell she was about to drop. “I suppose it was inevitable that one of us would encounter her. A celebration is in order. Will you convey my deepest respects to Lunzie?” Varian’s expression now almost made her burst out laughing: total confusion and disbelief. “I cannot miss the chance to meet Lunzie,” Sass finished up. “It isn’t often one gets the chance to entertain one’s great-great-great grandmother.” Varian’s mouth hung slightly open, and her eyes were glazed. Gotcha, thought Sass wickedly, and in the gentlest possible tones asked one of the junior officers to escort Varian to her sled.

Nothing wrong with that young woman that seasoning wouldn’t cure, but - Sass chuckled to herself - it was fun to outwit a planetary governor. Even one who’d had a concussion. She followed Varian’s progress through the ship, and was pleased to note that shock or not, she remembered to check on her crewmate. When Med queried, with a discreet push of buttons, Sass acknowledged and approved his leaving with Varian. Varian, she suspected, never considered that he might have been held.

Ford appeared, and shook his head at her expression. “Captain, you look entirely too pleased about something.”

“I may be. But compared to the last cruise, things are going extremely well, complications and all. Of course we don’t know why the Thek are here, or what they’re going to do, or if that heavyworlder transport has allies following after - “ Ford shook his head. “I doubt that. A hull that size could carry colony seedstock, machinery and all - “

“True. That’s what I’m hoping - but you notice I put a relay satellite in orbit, and left a streaker net out. Just in case. Oh yes - you’re interested in the sort of wild-life they’ve got here, aren’t you?”

“Sure - it was kind of a hobby of mine, and when I was on the staff at Sector III, they had this big museum just down the hill - “

“Good. Are you willing to take on a fairly dangerous outside job? And do some acting in the meantime?”

“Of course.” He blanked all the expression off his face and faked a Diplo accent. “I could pretend to be a heavyworlder if you want, but I’m afraid they’d notice something…”

Sass shook her head at him. “Be serious. I need to know more about this world - direct data, not interpreted by those survivors, no matter how expert they are in their fields. Varian, the co-leader who came today, is entirely too eager to claim sentient status for an avian species. It may be justified, or it may not, but I want independent data. There’s something odd about her reactions to the Iretan-born heavyworlders, too. She ought to be furious, still - she’s less than a ten-day out of coldsleep; she witnessed a murder; the initial indictment filed with Godheir spoke of intentional injury to both co-leaders. That’s all fresh in her mind, or should be. Her reasoning’s correct; the grandchildren of mutineers are not responsible. But it’s just not normal for her to think that clearly when her friends and colleagues have suffered. I’ve seen this kind of idealism backfire - this determination to save every living thing can be carried too far. She’s very dedicated, and very spirited, but I’m not sure how stable she is. With a tribunal coming up to determine the fate of this planet and those people, I need something solid.”

“I see your point, captain, but what do you want me to do?” “Well - I’d guess she’d fall for unconditional enthusiasm. Boyish gush, if you can manage it - and I know you can.” She let her eyes caress him, and he laughed aloud. “Yes - exactly that. Be dinosaur-crazy, act as if you’d do anything for a mere glimpse of them - you’re so lucky to have the chance, and so on. You can start by being skeptical - are they really dinosaurs? Are they sure? Let’s pick a survey team today, and brief them - you can introduce them as fellow hobbyists tomorrow. They’ll probably accept two or three, and if they go for that maybe another two or three later. How’s that sound?”

“Right. Makes sense.” Ford, faced with a problem, tackled it wholly, absorbed and alert at once. She watched as he scrolled through the personnel files, with a search on secondary specialties. “We’ll have to pick those who do have a real interest - they’d catch on to something faked, and I can’t teach someone all about dinosaurs in one night - “ He stopped, and fed an entry to her screen. “How about Borander? He’s taken twelve hours of palaeontology.”

“No, not Borander. Did you see how he interacted with Varian?”

“No, I was with Currald then.”

“Well, take a look at the tape later. Young trout let her dominate him. Admittedly, she’s a Disciple, and she’s declared herself planetary governor, but I don’t like my officers buckling that easily. He needs a bit of seasoning. Who else?”

“Segendi - no, he’s a heavyworlder and I doubt you want to complicate things that way - “

“Right.”

“What about Maxnil, in supply? His secondary specialty is cartography, and he’s listed as having an associate degree in xenobio.” Sass nodded, and Ford went on, quickly turning up a short list of three crew members who could be considered “dinosaur buffs.” It was even easier to come up with a list of those who knew a reasonable amount of geology, although harder to cut the list to three. All had excellent records, and all had worked with non-Fleet personnel.

Sass nodded, at last. “Good selection. You brief them, Ford, and be sure they understand that they did not know dinosaurs were here until tomorrow. We didn’t see anything on the way down: we came too fast. I had seen the information stripped from the beacon, but no one else had. Once you see the beasts, I imagine you won’t have to fake your reactions. But keep in mind that I need information on more than large, noisy, dangerous reptiloids.”

Ford nodded. “Do you still want to speak to Major Currald before lunch?”

“If he feels he has things well in hand with the transport. What’s that captain’s name - Cruss? Foul-mouthed creature, that one. I want Wefts and heavyworlders, round the clock - “

“Here’s the roster.” As usual. Ford had anticipated her request. She thought again how lucky she was to have Ford this time, and not Huron. In a situation like this, Huron’s initiative and drive could have been disastrous. She could trust Ford to back her tactics, not go off and do something harebrained on his own.

She glanced at the roster of Fleet personnel stationed inside the transport to ensure that personnel in coldsleep were not revived. She didn’t want to face a thousand or more heavyworlders: theZaid-Dayan would have no trouble killing them all, but Fleet commanders were supposed to avoid the necessity of a massacre. Each shift combined Wefts and heavyworlders: she trusted her heavyworlders, but with Wefts to witness, no one could later claim that they’d betrayed her trust. “Get Currald on the line, would you?”

A few moments later, Currald’s face filled one of the screens, and he confirmed that the situation remained stable.

“I’ve told the native-born survivors that I’ll supply some of their needs, too,” Sassinak told him. “I don’t want them to think that all good comes from Diplo. I’ve got some things on order, that’ll be delivered to the perimeter. But if you can turn surveillance and supervision over to someone, I’d appreciate your company at lunch,”

“You’re not giving them weapons - “

“No, certainly not.”

“Give me about half an hour, if you can, captain; I’m still arranging the flank coverage.”

“That’s fine. I’ll order a meal for half an hour from now - and if you’re held up along the way, just give me a call.” She cleared the circuit, and turned to Ford. “See if Mayerd can meet with us, too - and you, of course, after you’ve notified your short lists that you’ll brief them this afternoon. I’ll be on the bridge, but we’ll eat in here.”

On the bridge, she told the duty officer to carry on, and came up behind Arly. Although most of the ship had been released from battle stations, the weapons systems were powered up and fully operational. It would be disastrous if someone erred at this range - no doubt the transport would be destroyed (with great loss of life she’d have to account for) but the resultant backlash could endanger theZaid-Dayan. Arly acknowledged her without taking her gaze from the screens.

“I’m just running a test on quadrant two - “ she said over her shoulder. “Interlock systems - making sure no one can pull the same trick again - “

Sass had more sense than to bother her at that moment, and waited, watching the screens closely, although she could not interpret some of the scanning traces. Finally Arly sighed, and locked her board down.

“Safe. I hope.” She smiled a bit wearily. “Are you going to explain, or is this a great security mystery?”

“Both,” said Sass. “How about lunch in my office?”

Arly’s eyes slid back to her screens. “I should stay - “

“You’ve got a perfectly competent second officer, and it’s my considered opinion that nothing’s going to break loose right now. That Cruss may be up to something, but we’ve interrupted his plans, and this is our safe period. Relax - or at least get out of that seat and eat something.”

Currald brought the stench of the Iretan atmosphere back into Sassinak’s office, just as the filters had finally cleared it out after the morning’s visit. He apologized profusely, but she waved his apology aside.

“We’re going to be here awhile, and we might as well adapt. Or learn to wear nose-plugs.”

Arly was trying not to wrinkle her nose, but positioned herself a seat away from Currald. “It’s not you,” she said to him, “but I simply can’t handle the sulfur smell. Not with a meal on the table. It makes everything taste terrible.”

Currald actually chuckled, a sign of unusual trust. “Maybe that’s what drove the mutineers to eating meat - I’ve heard it ruins the sense of smell.”

“Meat?” Mayerd looked up sharply from a sheaf of lab reports. “It makes the person who eats it stink of sulfur derivatives, but it doesn’t confuse the eater’s own nose.”

“I don’t know…” Sass paused with a lump of standard green vegetable in white sauce halfway to her mouth. “If things taste different in a sulfurous atmosphere - and they do - “ She eyed the lump of green with distaste. “Then maybe meat would taste good.”

“I never thought of that.” Mayerd’s brow wrinkled. Ford grinned at the table generally.

“Here comes another scientific paper… The Effect of Ireta’s Atmosphere on the Perception of Protein Flavorings’… ‘Sulfur and the Taste of Blood.

“Don’t say that in front of Co-leader Varian,” Sass warned. “She seems to be very sensitive where the prohibition is concerned. She wouldn’t think it was funny.”

“It’s not funny,” Mayerd said thoughtfully. “It’s an idea… I never thought of it before, but perhaps an atmospheric stench would affect the kinds of foods people would prefer, and if someone were already tempted to consider the flesh of living beings an acceptable food, the smell might increase the probability - “ The others groaned loudly, in discordant tones, and Mayerd glared at them. Before she could retort, Sassinak brought them to order, and explained why she’d wanted them to meet.

“Co-leader Varian is perfectly correct that the Iretans are not responsible for the mutiny or its effects. At the same time, it’s in the interests of FSP to see that this planet is not opened to exploitation, and that the Iretans assimilate into the Federation with as little friction as possible. They’ve been told a pack of lies, as near as we can tell: they think that the original team was made up of heavyworlders, and abandoned unfairly. They expected help from heavyworlders only, and apparently think heavyworlders and lightweights cannot cooperate.

“We have the chance to show them that heavyworlders are assimilated, and welcome, in our society. We all know about the problems - Major Currald has had to put up with harrassment, as have most if not all heavyworlders in Fleet - but he and the others in Fleet believe that the two types of humans are more alike than different. If we can drive a friendly wedge between those young people and that heavyworlder colony ship - if we can make it clear that they have a chance to belong to a larger universe - perhaps they’ll agree to compensation for their claims on Ireta, and withdraw. That would be a peaceful solution, quite possible for such a small group, and with compensation they could gain the education they’d need to live well elsewhere. Even if they don’t give up all their claims, they might be more willing to live within the limits a tribunal is almost certain to impose… especially if Varian is right, and there’s a sentient native species.”

Currald said, “Do you want active recruitment? The ones I’ve seen would probably pass the interim tests.”

Sass nodded. “If you find some you want for the marine contingent, let me know. I’d approve a few, but we’d have to be sure we could contain them. I don’t believe any have been groomed as agents, but that’s a danger I can’t ignore.”

Mayerd frowned, tapping the lab reports on the table beside her tray. “These kids were brought up on natural foods, not to mention meat. Do you think they could adjust to shipboard diets right away?”

“I’m not sure, and that’s why I want you in on this from the beginning. We’re going to need to know everything about their physiology. They’re apparently heavyworlder-bred, but growing up on a normal-G planet hasn’t brought out the full adaptation. Major Currald may have some insights into the differences, or perhaps they’d be willing to talk to other heavyworlders more freely. But you’re the research expert on the medical staff: you figure out what you need to know and how to find out. Keep me informed on what you need.”

“I’ve always thought,” said Mayerd, with a sidelong glance at Currald, “that it’s possible heavyworlders do require a blend of nutrients delivered most efficiently in meat. Particularly those on cold worlds. But you can’t do research on that in the Federation - it’s simply unmentionable. Not fair, really. Scientific research shouldn’t be hampered by religious notions.”

A tiny smile had twitched Currald’s lips. “Research has been done, clandestinely of course, on two heavy-G worlds I know of. It’s not just flesh, doctor, but certain kinds, and yes, it’s the most efficient source of the special requirements we have. But I don’t think you want to hear this at table.”

“Another consideration,” said Sassinak into the silence that followed, “is that of crew solidarity. It will do the heavyworlder critics in our crew good to see what heavyworlder genes look like when not stressed by high-G: with all respect, Currald, the Iretans look like normals more than heavyworlders.” He nodded, sober but apparently not insulted. “But as you know, we’ve had trouble with a saboteur before. If anything happened now, to heighten tensions between heavyworlders and lightweights - “ She paused, and glanced at every face. They all nodded, clearly understanding the implications. “Arly, I know you’ve made every possible safety check of the weapons systems, but it’s going to be hard to keep your crews fully alert in the coming days. Yet you must: we must not have any accidental weapons discharges.”

“Speaking of that,” said Hollister. “I presume we’re screened…?” Sass pressed the controls and nodded. “I hadn’t had a chance to tell you, and since the crisis appeared to be over - “ He pulled a small gray box from his pocket and laid it on the table. “I found this in the number two power center just as we landed. Disabled it, of course, but I think it was intended to interfere with the tractor controls.”

Sass picked up the featureless box and turned it over in her hands. “Induction control?”

“Right. It could be used for all sorts of things, including setting off weapons - “

“Where, precisely, did you find it?”

“Next to a box of circuit breakers, where it looked like it might be part of that assembly - some boxes have another switchbox wired in next to them. Same shade of gray, same type of coating. But I’ve been looking every day for anything new, anything different - that’s how I spotted it. At first I wasn’t even sure, but when I touched it, it came off clean - no wires. Nela cracked it and read the chips for me; that’s how I know it was intended to mess up the tractor beam.”

“Dupaynil?” She looked down the table at him. His expression was neutral. “I’d wish to have seen it in place, yet clearly it had to be disabled in that situation, with the possibility of hostile fire. Did you consider physical traces?”

Hollister nodded. “Of course. I held it with gloves, and Nela dusted it, but we didn’t find any prints. Med or you, sir, might find other traces.”

“The point is,” said Sassinak, “that we’ve finally found physical evidence of our saboteur. Still aboard, since I’m sure Hollister can say that wasn’t in place yesterday, and still active.”

“If we find a suspect,” Dupaynil said, “we might look inside this for traces of the person who programmed it.”

“If we find a suspect,” said Sassinak. “And we’d better.” On that note, the meeting adjourned.

Chapter Seventeen

Sassinak had made extensive preparations for her meeting the next morning with Captain Cruss. Unless he had illegal Fleet-manufactured detectors, he could not know that a full audio-video hook up linked her office to Ford’s quarters and the bridge. Currald had furnished his most impressive heavyworld marines for an escort through the ship, although Sassinak had chosen Weft guards for her personal safety. She wanted to see if Cruss would overreach himself.

When Currald signalled that Cruss was on his way, she watched on the monitor. The five men and women that sauntered across the grid between ships were unpleasant-looking, even for heavyworlders. They had not bothered to put on clean uniforms, Sassinak noticed; even Cruss looked rumpled and smudged. She glanced briefly at her white upholstered chairs, and muttered a brief curse to rudeness… no doubt they would do their best to soil her things, and smirk to themselves about it. She knew too many fastidious heavyworlders to believe that they were innately dirty.

By the time they reached Main Deck, Sassinak had heard comments from observers she’d stationed along their path. They had argued about leaving their hand weapons with the guards; Captain Cruss carried a small, roughly globular object which he insisted he must hand-carry to Sassinak himself. She signalled an assent. They had made snide remarks to Currald and the heavyworlder escort, and pointedly turned away from the Wefts. They had lounged insolently on the grabbar in the cargo lift, and commented on the grooming of ship’s crew in terms that had the reporting ensign red-faced. And of course they were late… a studied discourtesy which Sassinak met with her own. When Gelory ushered them in with cool precision, Sassinak glanced up from a desk covered with datacards.

“Oh! Dear me, I lost track of time.” She could see, behind the heavyworlders, Currald’s flick of a grin: she never lost track of time. But she went on, smoothly and sweetly. “I’m so sorry, Captain Cruss - if you’ll just take a seat - anywhere will do - and give me a moment to clear this.” She turned back to her work, quickly organizing the apparent disarray, and tapping the screen before her with a control wand. Arly, by prearrangement, appeared in the doorway with a hardcopy file, and apologized profusely for interrupting.

“It’s all right. Commander,” said Sass. Arly’s eyes widened at this sudden promotion in rank, but she had the good sense to ride with it. “Are those the current status reports? Good - if you’ll relay these to Com, and tell them to use the Blue code-book - and then ask the Chief Engineer to clear these variations, that will be all.” She handed Arly a stack of datacards and the hardcopy that had just spit from her console. With a quick glance at the file Arly had handed her, she thumbed a control that opened a desk drawer, deposited it therein, and returned her attention to Cruss and his crew. “There, now. We’ve had so much message traffic, it’s taken me this long to sort things out. Captain, I’ve spoken to you - and this is your crew -?”

Cruss introduced his crew with none of the overused, but filthy, epithets of the day before. They glowered, uniformly, and stank of more than Ireta. Sassinak wondered if their ship were really that short of sanitary facilities, or if they preferred to smell bad.

“May I see your ship’s papers - “ It was not really a request, not with theZaid-Dayan’s weaponry trained on the transport, and her marines on board. Cruss took a crumpled, stained folder out of the chest pocket of his shipsuit, and tossed it across the room. One of the marines turned to glare at him, and then glanced to Sassinak for guidance, but she did not react, merely picking up the distasteful object and opening it to read. “I’ll also need your personal identification papers,” she said. “Crew ratings - union memberships - if you’ll hand those to Gelory - “ They knew Gelory was a Weft; she could tell by the subtle withdrawal, as if they were afraid a Weft could harm them by skin touch. Sassinak went on reading.

According to the much-smudged (and probably faked) papers, transport and crew were on lease to Newholme, one of the shabbier commercial companies licensed by the Federation Colonial Service to set up colonies. Stamps from a dozen systems blotched the pages. Entry and exit from Sorrell-III, entry and exit from Bay Hill, entry and exit from Cabachon, Drissa, Zaduc, Porss.., and Diplo. Destination a heavyworld colony two systems away, which Sassinak thought she recalled had reached its start-up quota.

With hardly a sound, Gelory deposited the crew’s individual papers on Sass’s desk, murmuring “Captain,” and drifting back to her place. Sassinak made no comment, and turned to these next, ignoring the squeaks and grunts of her furniture as the heavyworlders shifted in bored insolence, as well as their sighs and muttered curses. With the heavyworlders safely installed in her office. Ford should soon have Varian and Kai - the co-leader she hadn’t met - in his quarters nearby, where they could see the interview without being seen. Until then, she intended to pore over these papers as if they were rare gems.

Luckily they were about as she’d expected, justifying a long examination. Captain Cruss, it turned out, had no master’s license - just a temporary permit from Diplo. He had been a master mate (and what land of rank was that, Sassinak wondered… she’d not seen that before) on an ore-hauler for eight years, and second mate on an asteroid-mining shuttle before that. Newholme had granted a temporary waiver of its usual requirements on the basis of Diplo’s permit - that looked like a bribe.

First-mate, senior pilot Zansa, on the other hand, had had a master’s license and once worked for Cobai Chemicals - which implied that her master’s license had been legitimate. But it was stamped “rescinded” in the odd orange ink that nothing could eradicate completely - and with a notation that Zansa had become addicted to bellefleur, a particularly dangerous drug for a ship captain. Sassinak looked up and found Zansa, who bore the characteristic facial scars of a bellefleur addict, though they were all pale and dry.

“I’m clean,” the woman growled. “Been clean five years, and next year I can retake the exams - “

“Shutup,” said Cruss, savagely, and Zansa shrugged, clearly not intimidated. Sassinak went back to the papers. So… Zansa was the expert, and Cruss the cover - though she wondered why they hadn’t found a legitimate master. Surely they could have done better than a recovering bellefleur addict.

Second pilot Hargit had had a checkered career, with rescinded visa stamps all over his records: charges and some convictions for petty theft, assault and battery, and “disturbance.” That was from Charade, which usually had a pretty tolerant attitude towards disturbances. For the past five years, he’d piloted a cargo hauler between two heavyworlder planets, apparently without incident.

Lifesystems engineer Po was the largest of the five, a gross mass of flesh that escaped his shipsuit where the fastenings had strained from the cloth. He had a toothy grin that made Sassinak want to reach for a stunner - the kind of grin she remembered too well from her days as a slave. He had also been cashiered from the Diplo insystem space militia. She wondered how many of the hopeful colonists in coldsleep on the transport would have a chance to wake up with this… person… watching over their safety. He’d given up the fight to maintain traditional heavyworlder fitness on shipboard, but Sassinak did not doubt his strength.

And last was the “helper,” Roella. Her papers listed a variety of occupations, in space and on planet, including “entertainer” - which, for someone of her appearance, meant only one thing. She’d also been jailed twice, for “disrespect” - but that was on Courance, where unlike Charade they were very picky indeed.

Plenty of questions to ask, but nothing she wanted to pursue too far, not now. A light came up on her console; she ignored it, and went on reading, rolling the control wand in her fingers. If they were clever, these heavyworlders, they would realize what it was - a stun-wand, as well as a link to her computers. With their backgrounds, they’d all had intimate experience with a stun-wand, somewhere. She finished turning through Roella’s ID packet, and sighed, as if deeply pained by all this. Then she looked up at the tense, angry faces across from her.

“Yes, yes. Captain Cruss,” she said, pouring all the smoothness she could into her voice. “Your papers do seem to be in order, and one cannot fault your chivalry in diverting to investigate a distress call…” What distress call? For they’d have had to receive it many light years away, the way they’d come. Of course they didn’t know they’d been followed.

But Cruss was explaining, or trying to, that it had not been a normal distress call. Sassinak pushed her own thoughts aside to listen. A homing capsule, intended for the EEC compound ship which had dropped both the Ryxi colony and the exploration team. It had gone astray, somehow been damaged, and been found just beyond the orbit of the outermost planet of this system.

Not bloody likely, Sassinak thought grimly… it would be like someone in an aircraft happening to notice a single small bead on the end of the runway as they landed. Nothing that size could be detected in FTL flight, and it was more than a little unlikely that they’d come out of FTL on top of it by accident. She was surprised when Cruss stood up, and deposited the battered hunk of metal on her desk with insolent precision. So - that was his surprise - and he had a homing capsule, or part of it. Stripped of its propulsion unit and power pack, it was hardly recognizable. She refrained from touching it, noting only that engraved ID numbers were just visible along one pitted side.

She was not convinced of his story, even when he generously offered to let her extract the capsule’s message from his computer, but she had no intention of arguing with him at this point. She doubted he knew that the Fleet computers had their own way with such capsules - and could extract more than a faked message implanted therein. But all that would come out at the trial. Now she smiled, graciously, and explained her reasons for confining them all to their ship, but with permission to trade for fresh foodstuffs with the locals. Cruss surged to his feet with another stale curse, and his companions followed. Sassinak sat quietly, relaxed: behind them the two Wefts had shifted to their own form, and clung to the angle of bulkhead and overhead. The marine escort was poised, hands hovering over weapons.

“I hope your water supplies are adequate,” she said in the same conversational tone. “The local water is foul-tasting and smells.” Cruss actually growled, a rumble of furious denial that he needed anything, from her or anyone else. “Very well, then,” she went on. “I’m positive you’ll wish to continue on your way as soon as we have received clearance for you. The indigenes will have all the help we can give them. You may be sure of that.” She stood, tapping the wand against her left palm, to watch them leave. Cruss made a motion toward the capsule, but Sassinak lowered the wand to forestall him.

“I think that had better remain,” she said calmly. “Sector will wish to examine it - “ His eyes shifted angrily. Guilty, she thought. What had they done to that thing? And where had it been sent? Surely not all the way to Diplo - - at the sublight speed a capsule traveled, that would take years. His muscles bunched; Sassinak flicked a finger signal and the Wefts reassembled themselves beside him. He flinched, his expression shifting from barely controlled fury and contempt to alarm.

“Good day. Captain,” she said easily, despite a mouth suddenly dry as the crisis passed. Of the others, only Zansa looked longingly toward the pile of personal documents on her desk - Sassinak avoided her eyes until she’d turned to leave.

As soon as the door slid shut, Sassinak relaxed back into her chair and turned it to face the video pickup. Ford quickly hooked their video into her screen, so that she could see them. Varian looked much better today: a vividly alive young woman who reminded Sassinak of herself, with those thick dark curls. But Varian’s eyes were a clear gray, today untinged by the pain or stress that had clouded them the day before. Kai, on the other hand, looked nothing like an expedition leader. Slumped in his seat, pale, a padded suit protecting vulnerable skin… and his voice, when he spoke, revealed the strain even this much activity placed on him. He seemed harried, nervous - in a way more normal than Varian, for someone who’d been through a mutiny and forty-three years of coldsleep. Plus whatever had attacked him. She chatted with them, trying to assess Kai’s condition and Varian’s wits. Neither of them had any idea what the Thek presence meant, although Kai told her about the existing cores, found before the mutiny. She was still digesting that when Kai turned formal, and asked if she considered her presence to be the relief of the expeditionary team. “How could it?” she asked, meanwhile wondering why he’d give her such an opening. Did he want to be removed from command? Did he distrust his co-leader? Varian seemed as surprised by his question as Sassinak. Sassinak filled out her quick answer, explaining her understanding of their entirely legitimate position, and reminding them again of her willingness to give them any assistance. Varian accepted this happily, but Kai still seemed constrained. Either he was very sick still, from all that had happened, or something else was wrong. After she’d turned them over to Ford, who would take Kai down to sickbay for Mayerd’s diagnostic unit to work on, and Varian to supply, she sat for awhile, frowning thoughtfully at the screen that had held their image.

She put the ID papers of both transport and crew in a sealed pouch, and stored it safely away for later examination. Dupaynil came in, with two Com specialists, to take the homing capsule’ away. He asked if she wanted to watch them extract the message, but she shook her head. At the moment, she’d take a break from the day’s craziness, and discuss the evening’s menu with her favorite cook.

When the call came in from the survivors’ geologist, one Dimenon, relayed through Com, she collected the Iretan heavyworlders and the expedition co-leaders. Mayerd shepherded Kai, clearly unwilling to let such an interesting case out of her sight, and Ford brought Varian. Dimenon had had a good reason for contacting the cruiser - not only a video of twenty-three small Thek, but an interaction between them and the creature that had attacked Kai. Sassinak had already viewed the tape once, and now in the re-run watched Kai’s reaction to these odd creatures - fringes, they called them. The man was positively terror-struck as the fringes advanced on the Thek, his breathing labored and his skin color poor. He had not moved well, coming into her office, but she thought if a fringe appeared in real life he would somehow manage to run. Pity and disgust contended in her mind. Had he always been like this, or had events overcome him? What did Varian think? Sassinak glanced at her, and realized that she, too, was covertly watching him, her expression guarded.

Sassinak distracted Varian with a question about the fringes, and Mayerd, bless her perception, kept the conversation going thereafter… although Kai’s answers, when he spoke, tended to cause a sudden rift. Then the Iretans began to ask their own questions, about the Thek, and their place in the Federation. Sass’s opinion of Aygar’s intelligence climbed another notch. He could think - and, it seemed in the next exchange, he even had a sense of humor. For when Sassinak asked him what weapon his people used against the fringes, he said, “We run,” in a tone of rich irony.

A slight easing of tension, and the conversation continued: fringes and their habits, the aquatic fringes the expedition had observed before the mutiny. Aygar was surprised by that… and Sassinak was just wondering how she could shift the conversation to the reptiloids when Varian, answering a question, mentioned the word. Dinosaurs. Fordeliton leaped on it with such eagerness that Sassinak half-expected Varian to recoil suspiciously. But apparently she thought it was natural for a grown man, a Fleet cruiser Executive Officer, to leap into an argument about whether anything resembling a true Old Earth dinosaur could have evolved in such a different world. Varian reeled off a string of names. Ford gaped, and then brought Aygar into it.

Sassinak let the excited exchange continue a minute or so, then put a halt to it with such pointed lack of interest for anything but the political situation that she knew they’d erupt again when her back was turned. So much the better. By the time she ushered the Iretans out, Varian and Kai had practically adopted Ford. She had no trouble persuading them to take all six of the short-listed specialists… Varian, in fact, was openly gleeful. She wondered if Mayerd had found out anything from Kai, besides the nature of his injuries and illness, but the medic had spent all her time on physical symptoms.

“It’s no use asking why he’s depressed and nervous until he’s no longer in pain, feverish, and numb in places.”

“I should think numbness preferable to pain,” said Sassinak tartly. “How can he be both?”

Mayerd gave her a look which reminded her she hadn’t eaten on time, and suggested they take a short break. “Eat a bit of that chocolate you keep hidden around here,” she said, “and I’ll have a cup of tea, and we’ll all keep from biting our heads off, shall we?”

“Don’t mother me, Mayerd. I’m not old and decrepit.”

“No,” said Mayerd shrewdly, “but you’re about to meet a fourth-generation ancestor who’s years younger than you are, and for all you know a raving beauty who’ll steal Ford’s heart away and leave you withering in the blast of dead passion.”

Sassinak whooped, and her tension dissolved in an instant. “You - That’s ridiculous!”

“True, O Captain. So are some other people. Done grieving for Huron yet, or are you still feeling so guilty you can’t enjoy your many admirers?”

“You’re making me blush. None of your business, I’d say, except it is, since you’re my physician. Well, yes, I have enjoyed normal - or at least pleasurable - involvement in the last few weeks.”

“Good. About time. That boy Tim’s in awe of you, by the way, so I hope you’re going to let him back into your good graces sometime.”

“Already done, fairy godmother, so let me be.”

“Back to Kai, then. The toxin destroyed nerve tissue, so he’s got sensory deprivation on some areas of skin - nasty, because he doesn’t know when he’s hurt himself. Where the tissue’s not destroyed, it’s stimulated - just like pain, but the brain can’t register constant stimulus like that, so he just gets these odd stabs and twinges, and a general feeling of something very wrong, very deep. His blood count’s off, which probably causes the exhaustion you noticed, and he’s not sleeping well, which doesn’t help. I offered to slap him in one of the big tanks, and let him sleep it off until we got him to Sector, but he refused. Which, in this case, took considerable guts, despite that display while you ran the tape.”

“Umm. It bothered me, particularly in someone in his position.”

“That Varian’s got enough bounce for two,” said Mayerd; Sassinak could detect the faintest trace of distaste, and knew that Mayerd would always prefer a patient to a patient’s healthy friend. With that in mind, she suggested that Mayerd visit the survivors that afternoon, when the diagnostic unit had finished meditating over Kai’s condition.

“I’d already thought of that. They’ll need clothes… you were planning a formal dinner, weren’t you?”

“To show off, yes.” Sassinak chuckled. “You mind-reader: people will think you’re a Weft if you keep that up. Raid my closet, if you need anything I’ve got - there’s a red dress that might suit Varian.”

“I’ve got a green that will be perfect for Lunzie,” said Mayerd smugly. “And all Kai’s measurements, so I’ve already located something for him.”

By the time Mayerd stopped by to show Sassinak what she’d chosen, on her way to the sled, the stewards were giving Sassinak sideways looks that meant they’d like her to clear out so they could set up for dinner. She had elected to serve in her office, a more intimate setting than the officers’ mess.

“I’m going, I’m going,” she said, grinning at the cook as he came to survey the room’s layout, with an eye to planning service. She stopped by the bridge, where everything seemed to be under control, and discovered that most of them knew about her ancestress… after all, she hadn’t told Ford or the others to keep it a secret. She worked through the day’s reports, noting replies to some queries back to Sector, and some pending - she’d hoped to have more information for Kai and Varian tonight, but apparently not. Something might come in any time, of course. Finally Arly caught her attention and pointed to the clock. Time to be getting ready - but she’d cleared most of her work, and would start the morrow only slightly behind.

As she went to her cabin to clean up, she found she could not quite analyze her emotions. Lunzie… another Lunzie. No, not another Lunzie, butthe Lunzie. That hardly seemed fair to her little sister - but then nothing had been. She wouldn’t think about that, she told herself, and poured another dollop of shampoo on her hair. Thank the gods that the cruiser didn’t have to use Iretan water!

But what would she be like? What could she be like? More like someone her elapsed age, or more like an old lady… a very, very old lady? She had the file holo… but that told her little. Her own file holo, the still one, didn’t tell a viewer that much. Movement was so much of a person - she thought of this, wringing out her hair, and flipping it into a towel with easy practiced gestures. No two people even bathed alike, dried themselves alike… and what if her ancestress turned out to be prudish about sex? That thought brought a blush to her cheeks. She looked at herself in the mirror, thinking of Mayerd’s teasing remarks. What if she wasn’t… what if she had Sass’s own casual attitude… and after all Ford was very good looking. No. Ridiculous. Here she hadn’t even met her, and already she was thinking of that kind of rivalry with her great-great-great-grandmother?

Besides, Mayerd would be back before then, and could tell her - if she would, because doctors did stick together - and would it be worse, Sassinak asked herself suddenly, to lose a family because of long coldsleep, as Lunzie had certainly done, or gain one because someone down the line was alive when you awoke? She eased into the long black slip that fit under her formal evening dress uniform, and began assembling it: the black gown, skirt glittering with tiny stars, and the formal honors winking on the left breast of the bodice. Somehow the formals, jeweled as they were, seemed more remote from the events that earned them than the full-size medals that jingled softly on a white-dress suit. This was the first time she’d pinned the formal rank jewels of Commander on the shoulders; the last time she’d worn this outfit, she’d been a Lieutenant Commander at Sector Headquarters, on duty at a diplomatic ball. The long, close-fitting black sleeves were ringed with gold: the captain of the ship, even in evening dress.

A last look - the merest touch of color on her lips - and she was ready. The proper twenty minutes before the guests would arrive, and there was Mayerd, also ready, and Ford. They grinned at each other, and Sassinak resisted the temptation to check on her office. Ford would have done it. She congratulated Ford on the increased “coverage” of his chest… he had picked up more than a few impressive medals, in the years since she’d seen him last. Mayerd wore her Science Union badge, and the little gold pin that meant honor graduate of the best medical school in the human worlds. They chatted idly, waiting at the head of the ramp, and Sassinak was very aware that both were watching her closely, to catch her reaction to Lunzie. They’d said nothing except that her relative would “suit” her.

“There it is - “ Ford gestured, and Sassinak caught a moving gleam in the darkness. Hard to see which was which, with so many bits of light shifting around, but Ford, as usual, was right. A four-seater airsled settled gently near the foot of the ramp, and the honor guard jogged out into place. Sassinak wondered, suddenly, if she should have gone quite this far without warning them… civilians, after all… but they seemed to understand what the shrill piping whistle meant. And the crisp ruffle of drums.

Varian and Lunzie, long skirts swirling in the wind, led the way up the ramp past a rigid honor guard. Sassinak could tell they were impressed, though she had trouble keeping her eyes off Lunzie’s face: she hadn’t wanted to stare like that since she was a first-year cadet. Instead, she pulled herself up and saluted: appropriate to the planetary governor and her staff, but they’d all know it was for Lunzie. Varian gave a quick dip of the head, like a nervous bird, but Lunzie drawled a response to her greeting and offered a firm handshake.

For a long moment they stood almost motionless, then Lunzie retrieved her hand, and Sassinak felt a bubble of delight overcoming the last bit of concern. She would have liked this woman even if she hadn’t been a triple great-grandmother - and she’d have to find an easier way to say all that. They had too much to say to each other! She grinned, cocking her head, and Lunzie’s response was too quick to be an attempt to mimic - it was her natural gesture, too.

From there, the evening went quickly from delight to legend. Whatever chemistry went into the food, the drink, and the companionship combined into a heady brew that had Lunzie making puns, and Sassinak reciting long sequences of Kipling’s verse. She noticed, as she finished a rousing version of “L’Envoi” that Lunzie had a speculative expression, almost wary. On reflection, perhaps she shouldn’t have accented “They travel fastest who travel alone” quite so heavily, not when meeting the only member of her family she’d seen since Myriad. She grinned at Lunzie, and raised her glass.

“It’s kind of a Fleet motto,” she said. “Convince the youngsters that they have to cut free from home if they want to wander the stars…”

Lunzie’s answering smile didn’t cover the sadness in her eyes. “And your family, Sassinak? Where were you brought up?”

It had never occurred to her that Lunzie wouldn’t know the story. She felt rather than saw Ford’s sudden stiffness, Mayerd’s abrupt pause in lifting a forkful to her mouth. No one had asked in years, now: Fleet knew, and Fleet was her family. Sassinak regained control of her breathing, but Lunzie had noticed; the eyes showed it.

“My family were killed,” she said, in as neutral a voice as she could manage. “In a slaver raid. I… was captured.”

Varian opened her mouth, but Kai laid a hand on hers and she said nothing. Lunzie nodded without breaking their gaze.

“They’d be proud of you,” she said, in a voice with no edges. “I am.”

Sassinak almost lost control again… the audacity of it, the gall… and then the love that shone so steadfastly from those quiet eyes.

“Thank you, great-great-great-grandmother,” she said. A pause followed, then Ford leaped in with an outrageous story about Sassinak as a young officer on the prize vessel. The others followed with their own wild tales, obviously intent on covering up the awkwardness while Sassinak regained her equanimity. Mayerd and Lunzie knew the same hilarious dirty rhyme from medical school, and rendered it in a nasal accent that had them all in stitches. Varian brought up incidents from veterinary school, equally raunchy, and Kai let them know that geologists had their own brand of humor.

As they lingered over their liqueurs, the talk turned to the reports Kai and Varian had filed on the mutiny. Sassinak noticed that Kai had not only moved better, coming up the ramp, but seemed much less tense, much more capable, during dinner. Now he described the details of the mutiny in crisp, concise sentences. Mayerd had said she’d begun a specific treatment for him, but had it really worked this fast? Or had something else happened to restore his confidence?

They were interrupted by Lieutenant Borander, who was still, to Sass’s eyes, far too nervous in the presence of high rank. But his news was rivetting: the heavyworlder transport had tried to open communications with the Iretan settlement, and had not received an answer. Sassinak’s party mood evaporated faster than alcohol in sunlight, and she noticed that the others were as sober-faced as she was. Lunzie pointed out that they had nothing to answer with - no comunits could last forty-three years in the open in this climate. But Aygar, Ford said, had not asked for communication equipment. Yet, when they all thought about it, the Iretans had been in contact with the transport before it landed. How?

“On what frequency was Cruss broadcasting?” asked Kai. Sassinak looked at him: whatever had happened, he was clearheaded and alert now. Borander answered him, and Kai gave a wicked grin. “That was our frequency, Commander Sassinak… the one we used before the mutiny.”

“Interesting. How could he have learned that from the supposed message in the damaged homing capsule? It doesn’t mention any frequencies. He’s well and truly used enough rope…” She called in Dupaynil, after a little more discussion, and the party broke up. Sassinak wished they’d had just a little longer to enjoy the festive occasion. But the time for long dresses and fancy honors was over - an hour later she was back in working uniform.

Chapter Eighteen

The next morning, after several hours in conference with her supply officers, she began allocating spares and replacement supplies to the Iretans and the expedition survivors. Surely Sector would order them back to report, rather than expecting them to finish the usual cruise - and that meant they could spare all this. She put her code on the requisitions, and went back to lean on Com again. Better than brooding about Lunzie - the more she thought about that, the more unsettled she felt. The woman was younger, not older - apparently a fine doctor, certainly an interesting dinner companion, but she could not feel the awe she wanted to feel. Lunzie might have been one of her younger officers, someone she could tease gently. And yet this “youngster” had a right to ask things that Sassinak didn’t want to recall. She knew, by the look in Lunzie’s eyes, that she would ask: she would want to know about Sassinak’s childhood, what had happened.

She saw a crewman flinch from her expression, and realized her thoughts had control other face again. This would never do. She wondered if Lunzie felt the same tangle of feelings. If she thought her ancestress should somehow be older, in experience, perhaps Lunzie felt that Sassinak should be younger. And yet she’d had that jolt of sympathy, that instant feeling of recognition, of kinship. They’d be able to work their way through the tangle somehow. They had to. For the first time since her capture, Sassinak felt a longing for something outside Fleet. Perhaps she shouldn’t have avoided her family all these years. It might not have been so bad, and certainly Lunzie wasn’t the stuff of nightmares.

She caught herself grinning as she remembered Mayerd’s tart comments. No, Lunzie wasn’t a raving beauty - though she wasn’t exactly plain either, at least not in that green dress, and she had the warm personality which could draw attention when she wanted it. And Lunzie approved of her, at least so far. It will work out, she thought again, fiercely. I’m not going to lose her without at least trying. Trying what, she could hardly have said.

From this musing, the alarm roused her to instant alertness. Now what? Now, it seemed, the Thek were appearing, and demanding that the expedition leaders be brought to the landing site.

“Ford, take the pinnace,” said Sassinak, ignoring Timran’s eager upward glance. She had finally let him take an airsled on one of the supply runs, and he’d managed to drop one crate on its corner and spew the contents all over the landing area. One disk-reader landed on an Iretan’s foot, creating another diplomatic crisis (fortunately brief: they were barely willing to acknowledge pain, which made it hard to claim injury), and Tim was grounded again.

While the pinnace was on its way, she tried to guess what the Thek were up to this time. They’d been acting like ephemerals, in the past few days, whizzing from place to place, digging up cores, and, unusual for Thek, chattering with humans. Then the Thek appeared above the landing grid.

“Large targets,” said Arly, her fingers nervously flicking the edges of her control panel. They were, in fact, the largest Thek Sassinak had ever seen.

“They’re friendly,” she said, wishing she was entirely sure of that. She had enough to explain to the admiral now, without a Thek/human row. “Are they coming to see us, or that co-leader fellow?”

“Or them?” Sassinak pointed to the main screen, showing two of the largest Thek descending near the heavyworlder transport. “Umm. Let’s treat it as diplomatic: Major Currald, let’s have a formal reception out there, and,” she turned, quickly pointing at officers with the most experience in working with aliens, “you, and you, and - yes, you. We’ll assume a delegation’s coming, and since we represent FSP here, they’ll come to us.”

By the time she reached Troop Deck and the landing ramp, two of the smallest Thek had planted themselves on the grid nearby. Around the bulge of theZaid-Dayan, she could see a section of the pinnace as Ford landed it.

But the Thek appeared to be far more interested in Kai than in the cruiser’s welcoming committee. One of them actually greeted him, in recognizable if strained speech. Sassinak motioned her officers to silence and did not interrupt. Whatever was going on, she’d find out more by going along with the Thek plan.

The Thek offered a core to Kai for examination; he gave the coordinates of its original location. Thunder rumbled underfoot: Sassinak noticed nothing in the sky. Theks talking to Theks? Sassinak glanced at each of them in turn: the immense ones and a medium - huge one near the heavyworlder colony ship, the medium - large and relatively smaller ones nearby. After a moment’s silence, Sassinak leaned forward.

“Kai, ask if this planet is claimed by Thek.” Although she spoke as softly as she could, the Thek answered her instantly.

“Verifying.” Then, a moment later, “Dismiss. Will contact.”

Kai turned to Sassinak, a look between respect, frustration, and annoyance. Well, she had intruded on his private conversation. She shrugged, and tried to lighten the mood.

“Dismissed, are we?”

Apparently that worked, for she could see his lips twitching with controlled laughter. Ford gave her a fast wink, then smoothed his face into utter blandness as Kai looked at him. What had Ford been up to with the co-leader? The wink told her only that he’d have a good story to tell later… and she’d have to wait to hear it. In the meantime, she dismissed the honor guard, who departed cursing quietly at having been put into the tight-collared formal uniform in this heat if it wasn’t really necessary, and invited Kai up for a visit.

He certainly looked better today, far more the sort of vigorous, outgoing young geologist who had been chosen co-leader with Varian. For a moment she wondered if he and Varian had ever paired up - and if so, why they weren’t paired now.

But the real question was what the Thek were doing on Ireta. So many Thek on one supposedly unclaimed planet was as great a mystery as anything else. Kai ventured hardly any explanation, beyond saying that perhaps the Thek were “worried.” Sassinak wondered if that was really all he thought, or all he thought he should say. She had no reason to hide her chain of logic from him, and went on to explain, watching closely for his reaction.

“A convocation of such size surely suggests a high degree of interest, Kai. And that old core - that was the same core which brought Tor?” He nodded, and she went on. “All those little Thek sucking up old cores - when they weren’t frying fringes… you see my point, surely. Your EEC ship’s records, and Fleet records, both list Ireta as unexplored. Yet you found Thek relics and the first Thek on scene appeared surprised at them. Doesn’t that suggest a missing link in the famous Thek chain of information? Something happened, here on Ireta, to one or more Theks, which somehow did not transmit to the others?” Kai followed her argument but his expression settled on anxiety rather than relief. “The old core is of Thek manufacture,” he said, almost reluctantly. “Unquestionably it’s generated Thek interest. But I can’t see why…”

Sassinak felt a moment’s impatience. The scientists always wanted to know why, before they halfway understood exactly what had happened. Or so it seemed to her. She was glad enough to put events in order, sure she had all the relevant parts, before worrying about why and what if. She let Kai and her officers go on talking, wandering their own logical or illogical paths through Thek behavior, the geology of Ireta, and the probable age of the core in question.

A light flashed on her console: message from the bridge. She thumbed the control on her earplug. “Sir, all those little Thek have landed near the original expedition campsite…”

With two key punches, she had that up on one of the screens and the scene stopped Kai in mid-sentence.

“Every fringe on Ireta is homing in on our campsite,” he said, his expression anxious.

It took her a moment to realize what he meant: the heat exuded by so many Thek would inevitably attract fringes, just as one Thek had attracted the fringe that had attacked Kai. Before she could think of something to reassure him, the screen showed new Thek activity as a score or more spun away crazily into the sky and offscreen. Now what were they doing? Kai looked as confused as she felt.

By this time, Sassinak felt the need of refreshment and, noticing that Kai looked a little wan, she invited him into the officer’s mess. A few deft comments from her and Kai, and Anstel and Pendelman were into a lively discussion of Iretan geology with excursions into evolutionary biology. Sassinak listened politely enough, but with the internal feeling of the adult listening to eight-year-olds discussing the merits of competing toys. At least they were busy and happy, and if they stayed out of trouble, she might get some work done.

Varian’s arrival added another bit of fizz to the meeting, so that Sassinak had no need to keep up any corner of the conversation. Relaxed, she let herself think about the Thek from a Fleet perspective. If the data relays had all worked correctly - and she knew whose heads would roll if they hadn’t - they’d gathered more information about Thek in flight and landing today than Fleet had anywhere in its files.

Her technical specialists, now busily talking hyracotheriums and golden fliers with Varian, had already taken discreet samples of the landing grid and the plateau face. Those data, along with the observations of the large Thek sinking into the landing grid, should reveal more about the way Thek handled heat dispersion.

Varian broke into her musings with the kind of questions a planetary governor ought to ask, Sassinak noted. Were the Thek known to be interested in planet piracy? Were they indeed? She wished she knew.

The meeting broke up shortly after that, with Anstel now in the role of one of the “science officers” accompanying Varian and Kai. The rest of that day, Sassinak spent composing messages for Sector Headquarters, and poring over the first, incomplete replies to her queries. Fleet had to be informed that the Thek were there, and rather than be bombarded by stupid questions when she was likely to be busy, better that they be supplied with some sort of explanation… but the admiral would want all the data. In order.

Her original signals, asking for clarification ofMazer Star’s status, the Ryxi colony’s status, and so on, had of necessity been brief. The incoming stack in her official file had its own priorities. Only one item surprised her, and that was “predominant owner” of the company holding title to the heavyworlder transport: Paraden.

She thought of the pale-eyed, red-headed young man who had tried to get her in such trouble in the Academy, and of Luisa Paraden’s connection (of sorts) to the slaver she and Huron had captured. This time it was Arisia Paraden Styles-Hobart, holding fifty three percent, and not on the board of directors at all… but Fleet had been able to discover that she was active in the company… or at least A. P. Hobart, whose ID for tax purposes was the same, was the “Assistant Director of Employee Assignment.” Handy, if you wanted to hire a crooked man to captain your crooked ship.

She wondered where Randolph Neil Paraden had ended up: somewhere in Newholme? The treasurer or something? Surely not; Fleet would have noticed that, too. The good news was that the ARCT-10 had shown up - or at least its message to Sector HQ had arrived. Severe damage from a cosmic storm (Sassinak quirked her lips: “investigating a cosmic storm” was a stupid sort of civilian idea. Space had enough hazards when you tried to play it safe), some (unlisted) casualties, but “no great loss of life.” Whatever that meant to a ship the size of most moons, with a normal shipboard population in the thousands in a variety of races.

They’d lost their FTL capability, and most of their communications, and spent nearly all the elapsed time hobbling toward a nearby system at well below lightspeed. No real hardship for those who lived their lifetimes on board anyway, but it must have been tough on the “temporary” specialists who’d expected to be home in six months.

And, of course, for the ones left behind on Ireta. Sassinak’s hand hesitated on the console. Should she call Kai now, or wait until tomorrow? She glanced at the time, and decided to wait. They’d be getting ready for that gathering she’d heard about, and perhaps by morning she’d have a list of casualties so that he could quit worrying (or start mourning) his family. And those children - their parents on the ship would be old, or dead, by now. She could and did call upMazer Star to confirm that she’d received Fleet clearance for them.

“And you should receive some kind of official recognition,” she told Godheir. “There’s a category for civilian assistance. Depending on the tribunal outcome, it might even mean a cash bonus for you and your crew; certainly I’ll recommend it.”

“Ye don’t have to do that. Commander Sassinak…” Captain Godheir’s screen image looked appropriately embarrassed.

“No, but you deserve it. Not just for your quick response, although it’s in everyone’s interest to encourage honest citizens to respond to mayday calls, but for your continued willingness to help the expedition. I know you aren’t designed to deal with youngsters recovering from that kind of trauma. And I know you and your crew have spent a lot of hours with them.”

“Well, they’re good kids, after all, and it’s not their fault. And no family with them.”

“Yes, well, I expect, with the Thek here, this will wrap up shortly, and you’ll be free to go. But you have my gratitude for your help.”

“I’m just glad you weren’t the pirate I thought you at first,” said Godheir, rubbing his head. “When you hailed us, that’s all I could think of.”

Sassinak grinned at him; she could imagine that having something like theZaid-Dayan suddenly pop up behind him could have startled a peaceful transport captain. “I was just as glad to find that you weren’t an armed slaver escort. Oh, by the way, do you have as many dinosaur buffs as I seem to have brought along?”

“A few, yes. They’re convening at the main camp tonight, along with some of yours, I think.”

“That’s what I thought.”

His expression asked if she had a problem with that, and she didn’t, except to wonder if fanning the flames of the dinosaur enthusiasts had been such a good idea.

“I don’t expect any trouble from Captain Cruss, with the Thek nearby, but still - “

“I’m taking precautions. Commander,” he said quickly, not quite offended at her presumption. Sassinak nodded, glad he’d taken the hint, and willing to have him a little huffy with her. Better that than trouble in the night.

“I assumed you had, Captain Godheir,” she said. “But so many things aren’t going according to Regulations already…” He smiled, again relaxed.

“Right you are, and we’ll be buttoned up tight. I’ll tell my crew not to overdo the hospitality juice, whatever it is and wherever it comes from.”

Dupaynil was waving at her from the corridor; Sassinak signed off, and turned to him.

“Captain, we got the homing capsule stripped,” he said happily. “And a fine bit of imaginative writing that was, let me tell you. Imaginative wiring, too. We’re still doing forensics on it. We’ve got surface deposit / erosion scans going, another seven hours on that, and there’s a new technique for analyzing biochemical residues, but basically we’ve got Cruss and Co. in a locked cell right now.”

“In order?” suggested Sassinak. Dupaynil nodded, and laid it all out for her.

“A fake, of course: a clever one, but a fake. First the homing capsule itself, which clearly shows the pitting and scarring one would expect from some four decades of space travel. Except where the propulsion unit and so on were removed - not by natural causes, either, but by tools available to any civilized world. Then roughed up to a pretense of the distressed natural surface.”

“Which tells you that the homing capsule went somewhere, then was broken apart, and returned - “

“Probably with Cruss in his ship, although not certainly. It might have been placed for him to find. Now the message… the message was clever, very clever. Ostensibly, it’s the message Cruss told you, the one he let us ‘copy’ from his computer. It’s not a long message, and it repeats six times.”

Dupaynil cocked his head, giving Sassinak the clear impression that he wanted her to guess what followed. “And then another message?” she prompted. “On the loop behind those?” “Precisely. I was sure the Commander would anticipate. Yes, after six boring repetitions, which any ordinary rescuer must have assumed would go on until the end, we found a sixty second delay - presumably the number of repetitions coded the length of the following delay - and then the real message. The location of Ireta; the genetic data of the surviving heavyworlders, including the planned breedings for several generations; a brief account of the local biology and geology; a list of special supplies needed; a recommendation for founding colony size. There are, as you would expect, no destination codes remaining. We cannot prove, from the message alone, who were its intended recipients. For that we await the physical evidence of the shell; it is just possible that its travels are, in a way, etched on its surface. But what they sent was an open invitation: this is who we are, where we are, and what we have. Come join us.”

Sassinak could think of no adequate comment. Proof indeed that the mutineers were intentional planet pirates. She took a long breath and let it out. Then: “Are you sure they intended it for heavyworlders exclusively?”

“Oh yes. The genetic types they asked for all code that way. Besides, I’ve now got the old Security data on the mutineers. Look, Separationists, but not Purists. All of them, at one time or another, were in one of two political or religious movements.”

“And no one spotted this beforehand?” She felt a rumble of anger that no one had noticed, and therefore people had died, and others had lost over forty years of their lives.

Dupaynil shrugged eloquently. “Exploration ships do not welcome Security, especially not Fleet Security. They insist that their specialists must have the freedom to investigate, to think for themselves. Of course I am not against that, but it makes it very hard to prevent the ‘chance’ connivance of those whose associations cause trouble.”

“Umm. I expect that Kai and Varian will visit again tomorrow, Dupaynil, and I would prefer to withhold this until we have the physical data - or until something else happens. At the rate things are going wild, something else may indeed make disclosure necessary.”

“I understand. When you’re ready for me to arrive with the discovery, just let me know.” He gave her a very Gallic wink, and withdrew to continue his investigations.

The next morning, Sassinak was glad that she had made it to bed at a reasonable hour: the Thek abruptly summoned her, Kai, Varian, and, to her surprise, the Iretans and Captain Cruss. She sent Ford with the pinnace to pick up the governors and Lunzie and recall any crew from the campsite.

Meanwhile, the outside pickups revealed that the Thek which had been positioned near cruiser and transport were now grouped at the far end of the landing grid. Sassinak studied the screen for a few moments, and turned away, baffled. What were they doing?

She ate breakfast and changed into a dress uniform without expressing any such confusion to the crew, though their bafflement was apparent to her. Halfway through a glass of porssfruit juice, something tickled her memory about Thek.

She’d seen something like this… it came back in a rush. The dead world, the time she had gone down with a landing party, and the Thek had come. First a few had clustered like that, and then others had come and clumped into some kind of structure. She’d forgotten about it for years, because of that mess with Achael, but… “cathedral” was what someone had termed it, the special conference mode of the Thek. To which she was bidden.

Despite herself, Sassinak shivered, remembering that folk involved in a Thek conference often found themselves extremely obedient servants of its determinations. She promptly initiated a Discipline procedure so that she would remember all that transpired during that unique experience. Then grinned to herself. This could make a riveting recital the next time she needed something to enliven a dull evening at the Sector HQ Officers’ Club.

While she and most of the other “invited” guests went willingly through the one opening left by Theks fitting themselves into the immense structure. Captain Cruss did not. His boots dug grooves in the ground to show his unwillingness but inexorably he was brought into the cathedral and the last Thek clunked into place. Oddly enough, a curious ambient light provided illumination. Sassinak caught Aygar’s contemptuous look and turned away, only then noticing the collection of porous shards, a dull dark charcoal grey rather than the usual Thek obsidian, but patently a nearly disassembled Thek.

“Your core evidently bore strange fruit,” she said to Kai, keeping her voice low. “And if that is indeed a very ancient Thek, we ephemerals will have to revise some favorite theories… and some good jokes.”

“Commander,” Cruss cried, his heavy voice reverberating so loudly the others winced, “I demand an explanation of the outrageous treatment to which I have been subjected.”

“Don’t be stupid, Cruss,” Sassinak said, pivoting to him. “You know perfectly well the Thek are a law unto themselves. And you are now subject to that law, and about to sample its justice.”

“We have verified.” The words, intoned in a non-directional voice, opened the conference. “Ireta is for Thek as it has been for hundreds of millions of years. It will remain Thek. For these reasons…”

With no apparent passage of time, Sassinak found herself leaning against Aygar. She needed to: she felt every second of her age in the steamy Iretan midday with its blazing sun beating down on them. Aygar clung to her for a moment more, obviously experiencing a similar disorientation. In the touch of his strong hands, she sensed that his earlier contempt for her had lessened. When he came out of his current shock, she expected he’d be a much more pleasant fellow.

Someone groaned. Sassinak blinked her eyes clear and saw Varian holding Kai upright. Cruss crouched on the ground in such an attitude of dejection that she could almost pity him. Almost, not quite.

In the meantime, she had had her orders. She had to get her marines, Weft and human, off that transport before Cruss woke up and lifted it off-world. Innocent or not, anyone on board at lift-off would have only one destination. That, the Thek had made quite clear. Trying to shake off the after-effects of that extraordinary experience and access the Discipline-retained memories, she let Ford and Lunzie shepherd them into the pinnace for the short hop back to the cruiser. But she couldn’t organize her thoughts beyond responding to the implanted instructions.

Once in her quarters she gave the necessary orders and then paused to catch her breath. The Thek had somehow compressed the very air inside their cathedral, enervating to the humans, and what she’d really have liked was a long quiet stretch of solitary meditation, to regain her own sense of space.

Half-bemused, and half-annoyed, she noticed that Lunzie was not so patient. Her Great-great-great prodded Ford into finding her liquor cabinet, poured drinks for everyone, and offered a toast “To the survivors!”

Sassinak drank, thinking to herself that Lunzie must have enjoyed that Sverulan brandy as much as it deserved, to be so eager to find more. Prior to the conference, Lunzie had buffered Kai and Varian and now she snapped them out of it. They burst into speech, and stopped as their voices clashed.

Sassinak chuckled. “Cruss took quite a beating.” Gingerly she touched her temples where a massive head-ache was gathering. “We all did.”

“Despite our clear consciences and pure hearts,” Varian added with a sly grin at Lunzie. Sassinak depressed the comunit button. “Pendelman, request Lieutenant Commander Dupaynil to join us. And didn’t we just get exactly the information we needed. Cruss spilled his guts. Not that I blame him.”

“Then you know who’s behind the piracy?” Lunzie asked, excited.

“Oh, yes. I’ll wait until Dupaynil gets here. Kai and Varian have been covered with glory, too. Which is only fair.”

Kai took up the narrative then, explaining that they had rescued a Thek who had been trapped for eons and buried so deeply it had been unable to summon help. Originally Ireta had been earmarked as a feeding ground with its rich transuranics so satisfying to Thek appetites, hence the cores. The Thek Ger had been guardian, to make certain young Thek did not strip the planet of its riches and leave it a barren husk.

“The Thek are the Others,” Lunzie gasped.

“That is the inescapable conclusion,” Sassinak agreed. “Thek are nothing if not logical. We were also exposed to quite a hunk of Thek history. I’ll joggle the rest out of my head later. The relevant fact is that it became apparent to the Thek after a millennium of gorging that, if they couldn’t curtail their appetites, they ran the risk of eating themselves out of the galaxy.”

“No wonder they had an affinity for dinosaurs,” Fordeliton exclaimed with a whoop of laughter.

“We get to preserve them now,” Varian said, rather proudly.

Kai grinned shyly. “Ireta is restricted, of course, as far as transuranics go but I, and my ‘ilk,’ as they put it, have the right to mine anything up to the transuranics for… is it as long as ‘we’ live? I’m not sure if the limit is just for my lifetime.”

“No,” said Lunzie. “By ilk, the Thek probably mean the ARCT-10, for as long as it survives. You deserve it, Kai. You really do.”

“Curiously enough,” Sassinak said into the respectful pause that followed, “the Thek did appreciate the fact that you all have lost irreplaceable time. Thek justice is unusual.”

Thek had lumped all humans - the timelagged, the survivors, and the descendants - in one group as survivors. They could remain or leave as they chose.

“I wonder if some of the Iretans might consider enlisting in the Fleet,” Sassinak mused, thinking of Aygar. “Wefts are excellent guards but Ireta produced some superb physical types. Ford, do see if we can recruit a few.”

“And the surviving member of the original heavyworlder contingent?” Lunzie asked.

“Mutiny cannot be excused, nor the mutineer exonerated,” Sassinak answered, her expression stem. “He is to be taken back to Sector Headquarters to stand trial. The Thek were as adamant on that score as I am.”

“And Cruss is being sent back?” Ford asked.

Sassinak steepled her fingers, permitting herself a satisfied smile. “Not only sent back but earthed for good. Neither he, his crew, nor any of the passengers will ever leave their planet. Nor will that transport lift again.”

“The Thek do nothing by halves, do they?”

“They have been exercised, if you can imagine a Thek agitated,” Sassinak went on, getting to the real meat of the cathedral’s findings, “about the planetary piracies and patiently waiting for us to do something constructive about the problem. The intended rape of Ireta has forced them, with deep regret, to interfere.” Just then, Dupaynil entered. “On cue, for I have good news for you. Commander. Names, only one of which was familiar to me.” She beckoned the Intelligence officer to take a seat as she leaned forward to type information on the terminal. “Parehandri is so conveniently placed for this sort of operation…”

“Inspector General Parehandri?” Fordeliton exclaimed shocked.

“The same.” Lunzie chuckled cynically. “It makes sense to have a conspirator placed high in Exploratory, Evaluation, and Colonization. He’d know exactly which planetary plums were ready to be plucked.”

Kai and Varian regarded her with stunned expressions.

“Who else, Sassinak?” Lunzie asked.

She looked up from the visual display with a smug smile. “The Sek of Formalhaut, Aidkisaga IX, is a Federation Councillor of Internal Affairs.” She noticed Lunzie’s startled reaction but went on when she saw Lunzie close her lips tightly. “One now understands just how his private fortune was accrued. Lutpostig appears to be the Governor of Diplo, a heavyworlder planet. How convenient! Paraden, it will not surprise you to discover, owns the company which supplied the grounded transport ship.”

“We could never have counted on uncovering duplicity at that level. Commander,”.was Dupaynil’s quiet assessment. He frowned slightly. “It strikes me as highly unusual for a man at Cruss’ level to know such names.”

“He didn’t,” Sassinak replied equably. “He was only vaguely aware that Commissioner Paraden was involved. The Thek extrapolated from what he could tell them of recruitment procedures, suppliers, and what they evidently extracted from the transport’s data banks.”

“But how can we use the information they obtained?” Dupaynil asked.

“With great caution, equal duplicity and superior cunning. Commander, and undoubtedly some long and ardent discussions with the Sector Intelligence Bureau. Fortunately, for my hypersuspicious nature, I’ve known Admiral Coromell for years and trust him implicitly…”

“You know Admiral Coromell?” Lunzie asked, amazed.

“We are in the same fleet, dear ancestress. And knowing where to look for one’s culprits is more than half the battle, even those so highly placed.” Sassinak saw her thoughtful look and went on briskly. “I have been given sailing orders, too. So, Fordeliton, brush up on your eloquence and see whom you can recruit from among the Iretans. Kai, Varian, Lunzie, I’ll have Borander return you to your camp with any supplies you might need to tide you over until the ARCT-10 arrives. Just one more thing…” and she swiveled her chair about, turning to the rank of cabinets behind her and opening one with a thumblock. She heard Lunzie’s sigh of satisfaction as the squatty little brandy bottles came into view.

“Clean glasses. Ford - I’ve a toast to propose.” And when all stood with their glasses ready, she expanded Lunzie’s brief presentation: “To the brave, ingenious, and honored survivors of this planet… including the dinosaurs.”

That got a smile from all of them, and a chuckle as the smooth brandy slid down. Revived by the brandy’s kick, Kai and Varian rose, eager to get back to their camp. The Thek decision had given them both a lot to look forward to, and plenty of work.

“Kai, Varian, you go on without me,” Lunzie said, surprising the co-leaders but not Sassinak. “I’d like a little while longer with this relative of mine.” She turned to Sassinak, a bit shy and stiff suddenly.

In the flurry of parting, Sassinak rather hoped she knew what might be coming. After all, Varian would have her animals to study; Kai would have his minerals to mine… what would Lunzie have? Nothing. She’d be picked up by the ARCT-10; she’d try to find a recertification course to bring her up to date in medicine, and then she’d hire out for something else. Not the sort of life Sassinak would want. Even if she’d been a doctor.

“Let’s eat here,” she said, as Kai and Varian, escorted by Ford, went off down the corridor. “It’s an awkward time for them in the messhall, right between shifts.”

“Oh. Fine.” Lunzie wandered around the office as Sassinak ordered the meal, looking at the pictures and the crystal fish. “That’s my favorite,” said Sassinak of the fish. “After the desk. This thing is my great hunk of self-indulgence.”

“Doesn’t seem to have hurt you much,” said Lunzie, with a bite to it.

Sassinak laughed. “I saw it fifteen years ago, saved for seven years. The place makes them one at a time and won’t start one on credit. They spent two years building it, and then for five years it sat in storage until I had a place to put it.”

“Umm.” Lunzie’s eyes slid across hers, then came back.

“As near as I can make it, that Thek conference lasted four and a half hours,” Sassinak said, running her finger around her damp collar. She’d loosen it once lunch had been served. Right now she had to loosen up Lunzie. She held up the bottle. “Wouldn’t you recommend another shot. Doctor Mespil. Purely medicinal, of course.”

“If this old fool can prescribe a similar dose for herself?” Lunzie’s smile was little more natural as Sassinak filled both their glasses with a generous tot.

“Thanks.”

Before they’d finished savoring the brandy, two stewards brought trays heaped with food: thinly sliced sandwiches, two bowls of soup, bowls of fried delicacies, fresh fruit obviously bartered from the Iretans.

Lunzie shook her head. “You Fleet people! And I always thought a military life in space was austere!”

“It can be.” Sassinak tasted her soup and nodded. Another one of her favorite cook’s creative successes. The stewards smiled and withdrew. Now Sassinak loosened her tunic. “There are certain… mmm… perks that come with rank and age.”

“Mostly rank, I’d guess. I’m happy for you, Sass, you seem to have earned a lot of respect, and you’re clearly suited to your life.”

For some reason this made Sassinak vaguely uneasy. “Well… I like it. Always have. It’s not all this pleasant, of course.”

“No? Have you seen combat often?”

“Often enough. Cruise before this one, we were boarded. Someone even took a potshot at me.”

That caught Lunzie with her spoon stopped halfway to her mouth, and she put it down safely in the soup before asking more.

“Boarded? I didn’t know that happened in… I mean, a Fleet cruiser?”

“That’s exactly the reaction of the Board of Inquiry. It seemed like a good idea at the time, though, Lunzie.” Far from being upset by her great-great-great as a listener, Sassinak discovered a certain catharsis easing tension, almost as beneficial as medication. And just the thread of a new thought, bearing on the information the Thek had extracted. “My Exec had a shipload of slaves to get out of that system ASAP.” She told Lunzie the whole story, backing and filling as necessary.

“And you’d been a slave… you knew…” Lunzie murmured softly.

There was more understanding in that tone than Sassinak could well stand; she changed the subject again, surprised to find herself mentioning another problem.

“Yes, and as for crew loyalty, by and large you’re right. But not entirely. For instance,” and Sassinak leaned back in her chair, regarding her guest with a measuring glance, “right now, I’m fairly sure that we have an informer aboard: someone in the pay of any one of those prestigious names we’ve been made privy to. Dupaynil and I have scanned and dissected the records of everyone on board and it hasn’t done us a bit of good. We can’t find tampering or inconsistencies or service lapses. But we have got a saboteur. My crew ‘re all starting to suspect each other. You can imagine what that does to morale!” Lunzie nodded, eyes sharpening. “The timid ones came to me, wanting me, of all things, to arrest our heavyworlders. As if heavyworlders were the Jonahs.” She noticed Lunzie’s startled expression. “And the next thing will be some political movement or other. There has to be a way to find the rotter, but I confess I’m stymied. And I particularly want the bugger found before any hint of what we’ve discovered here on Ireta can possibly leak.”

Lunzie began peeling a fruit, letting the rind curl below her fingers. “Would you like me to look through the files - the unclassified stuff, I mean? Maybe an outside eye? Sort of singing for my lunch, as it were?”

“Singing for your lunch?”

“Never mind. If you don’t trust an outsider…”

“Oh, I trust you - gods below, my own great-great-great-grandmother.” Sassinak caught herself on the rim of a hiccup, and decided that she was the least bit cozy from the brandy. “You could look through my bottom drawers if you wanted. But what can you find that Dupaynil and I haven’t found?”

“I dunno. But being older ought to do some good, if being younger can’t.”

At this, they locked glances and giggled. Fresh eyes, Lunzie’s eyes, made no sense, and very good sense, and they were both more relaxed than necessary. Two hours later, poring over the personnel files, they had sobered but were no nearer solving Sassinak’s problem.

“I didn’t think you needed this many people to run a cruiser,” said Lunzie severely. “It would be easier to check a smaller crew.”

“Part of that great life I have as a cruiser captain.”

“Right. One more engineering technician, grade E-4, and I’m going to…” Suddenly she paused, and frowned. “Hold it! Who’s this?”

Sassinak called up the same record on her own screen. “Prosser, V. Tagin. He’s all right; I’ve checked him out, and so has Dupaynil.” She glanced again at the now-familiar file. Planet of origin: Colony Makstein-VII, so - matotype: height range 1.7 - 2 meters, weight range 60 - 100 kg, eye color: blue/gray, skin: red/yellow/black ratio 1:1:1, type fair, hair type: straight, fine, light-brown to yellow to gray. Longheaded, narrow pelvis, 80% chance missing upper outer incisors. She screened Prosser’s holo, and saw a 1.9 meter, 75-kilogram male with gray eyes in a longish pale face under straight fine, fair hair. By his dental chart, he was missing the upper outer incisors, and his blood type matched. “There’s nothing off in his file, and he’s well-within the genetic index description. His eyes are too close together, but that’s not a breach of Security. What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s impossible, that’s what.”

“Why?”

Lunzie looked across at her, a completely serious look. “Did you ever hear of clone colonies?”

“Clone colonies?” Sassinak stared at her blankly. She had neither heard of such a thing nor seen a reference to it. “What’s a clone colony?”

“What databases do you have onboard? Medical, I mean? I want to check something.” Lunzie had gone tense suddenly, alert, almost vibrating with what she wouldn’t explain - yet.

“Medical? Ask Mayerd. If that’s not enough, I can even get you access to Fleet HQ by FTL link.”

“I’ll ask Mayerd. They were talking about covering it up, and if they did - “ Lunzie didn’t go on; Sassinak didn’t push her. Time enough.

Lunzie was on the internal corn, talking to Mayerd about medical databases, literature searches, and specific medical journals, in a slang Sassinak could hardly follow. “What do you mean. Essentials of Cell Reference isn’t publishing? Oh - well, that’s a stupid reason to change titles… Well, try Bioethics Quarterly, out of Amperan University Press, probably volume 73 to 77… nothing? Ceiver and Petruss were the authors… Old Mackelsey was the editor then, a real demon on stuff like this. Of course I’m sure of my reference: as far as I’m concerned it was maybe two years ago.” Finally she clicked off and looked at Sass, a combination of smugness and concern. “You’ve got a big problem, great-great-great-granddaughter, bigger than you thought.”

“Oh? I need any more?”

“Worse than one saboteur. Someone’s been wiping files. Not just your files. All files.”

“What exactly do you mean?” It was the first time she’d used her command voice in Lunzie’s presence and she was glad to see that it was effective. It didn’t, she noticed, scare Lunzie, but it did get a straight answer out of her.

“You never heard of clone colonies, nor has Mayerd who ought to have. I was a student on an Ethics Board concerning such a colony.” Lunzie paused just a moment before continuing. “Some bright researchers had decided that it would be a possibility to have an entire colony sharing one genome: one colony made up exclusively of clones.”

“But that can’t work,” Sassinak said, recalling what she knew of human genetics. “They’d inbreed, and besides you need different abilities, mixtures…”

Lunzie nodded. “Humans are generalists. Early human societies had no specialization except sexual. You can’t build a large, complicated society that way, but a specialized colony, maybe. They thought they could. Anyway, in terms of the genetic engineering needed for certain environments, it would be a lot cheaper to engineer one, and then clone, even given the expense of cloning. And once they’d cleared the generation-limit problem, and figured out how to insert the other sex without changing anything else, it would be stable. If you know there are no dangerous recessives, then inbreeding won’t cause trouble. Inbreeding merely raises the probability that, if such harmful genes exist, they will combine. If they don’t exist, they can’t combine.”

“I see. But I’m not sure I believe.”

“Wise. The Ethics team didn’t either. Because I’d been around, so to speak, when that first colony was set up and because I’d worked in occupational fields, I had the chance to give an opinion on the ethical and practical implications. One of a panel of two hundred or so. We saw the clones, well, holos of them, and the research reports. I thought the project was dangerous, to both the clones and to everyone else. For one thing, in the kind of environment the clones were designed for, I thought random mutations would be far more frequent than the project suggested. Others thought the clones should be protected: the project had a fierce security rating anyway, but apparently it went a step further and all references were wiped.”

“What does that have to do with Prosser, V. Tagin?”

Lunzie looked almost disgusted, then relented. “Sassinak, that colony was on Makstein VII. Everyone in it - everyone had the same genome and the same appearance. Exactly the same appearance. I saw holos of members of that colony. Your Mr. Prosser is not one of the clones, though he’s been given the somatypes.”

“Given?”

“The Index entries were written to cover the appearance of the clones should any of them travel, while indicating a range of values as if they were from a limited but normal colonial gene pool. His somatype has been faked, Sassinak. That’s why you didn’t catch it. No one would, who didn’t know about clone colonies in general and Makstein VII in particular. And you couldn’t find out because it’s not in the files anymore.”

“But someone knows,” said Sassinak, hardly breathing for the thought of it. “Someone knew to fake his ID that way…”

“I wonder if your clever Lieutenant Commander Dupaynil could ask Mr. Prosser where he actually does come from?” Lunzie said in a drawl as she examined her fingertips, a mannerism which made Sassinak blink for it was much her own.

She keyed in Dupaynil’s office and when he acknowledged, she sent him the spurious ID they’d uncovered. “Detain,” was all she said but she knew Dupaynil would understand. “Great-great-great-grandmother,” she said silkily, well pleased, “you’re far too smart to stay in civilian medicine.”

“Are you offering me a job?” The tone was meek, but the sharp glance belied it.

“Not a job exactly,” Sassinak began. “A new career, a mid-life change, just right for fresh eyes that see with old knowledge that has somehow got lost for us who need it.” Lunzie raised an inquiring eyebrow but her expression was alert, not skeptical. Sassinak went on with mounting enthusiasm, building on that little inkling she’d had before lunch. “Listen up, great-great. Do you realize what you have, to replace what you think you’ve lost? Files in your head, accessible facts that weren’t wiped… and who knows how many more than just references to a prohibited colony!”

The old clone colony trick works only once, great-great.”

“Let’s not put arbitrary limits to what you have in your skull, revered ancestress. The old clone colony trick may not be all you’ve saved behind your fresh old eyes. You’ve got an immediate access to things forty-three and even a hundred and five years old which to me are either lost in datafiles or completely unknown. And this planetary piracy’s been going on a long, long time by either of our standards.” She saw the leap of interest in Lunzie’s eyes and then the filming of old, sadder memories before the new hope replaced them. “I’m not offering you a job, old dear, I’m declaring you a team member, a refined intelligence that those planet hungry moneygrubbing ratguts could never expect to have ranged against them. How could they? A family team with almost the same time-in-service of say, the Paradens…”

“Yes, the Paradens,” and Lunzie sounded very grim. Then her thin lips curved into a smile that lit up her eyes. “A team? A planet pirate breaking team. I probably do know more than one useful thing. You’re a commander, with a ship at your disposal…”

“Which is supposed to be hunting these planet pirates…”

“You’re Fleet and you can ask certain questions and get certain information. But I’m,” and Lunzie swelled with self-pride, “a nobody, no big family, no fortune, no connections - bar my present elegant company - and they don’t need to know that. Yes, esteemed descendant, I accept your offer of a team action.”

Sassinak had just picked up the brandy bottle to charge their glasses when a loud thump on the bulkhead and raised voices indicated some disturbance. Sassinak rolled her eyes at Lunzie and went to see what it was.

Aygar was poised on the balls of his feet just outside her office, with two marines denying him entry.

“Sorry about the noise, captain,” said one of them. “He wants to speak to you and we told him…”

“You said,” Aygar burst out to Sassinak, “that as members of FSP, we had privileges…”

“Interrupting my work isn’t one of them,” said Sassinak crisply. She felt a discreet tug on her sleeve. “However, I’ve a few moments to spare right now,” and she dismissed the marines.

Aygar came into her office with slightly less swagger than usual. If he ever dropped that halfsulk of his, Sassinak thought he’d be extremely presentable. He didn’t have the gross heavyworlder appearance. He could, in fact if he mended his attitude, be taken as just a very well developed normal human type. He’d fill out a marine uniform very well indeed. And fill in other places.

“Did Major Currald recruit you?”

“He’s trying,” and that unexpected humor of Aygar flashed through again.

“I thought you intended to remain on Ireta, to protect all your hard work,” Lunzie said in the mild sort of voice that Sassinak would use to elicit information. But she had a gleam in her eye as she regarded the handsome young Iretan that Sassinak also instantly recognized. It surprised her for a moment.

“I… I thought I wanted to stay,” he said slowly, “if Ireta was going to remain our world. But it’s not. And there are hundreds of worlds out there…”

“Which you could certainly visit as a marine.” Sassinak sweetened her tone and added a smile. Two could play this game and she wasn’t about to let her great-great- great-grandmother outmaneuver her in her own office.

Aygar regarded her through narrowed eyes. “I’ve also had an earful of the sort of prejudice heavyworlders face.”

“My friend, if you act friendly and well behaved, people will like a young man as well favored as you,” Sassinak said, ignoring Lunzie. “Life on Ireta and out of high-g environment has done you a favor. You look normal, although I’d wager that you’d withstand high-g stress better than most. Act friendly and most people will accept you with no qualms. Swagger around threatening them with your strength or size, and people will react with fear and hatred.” Sassinak shrugged. “You’re smart enough to catch on to that. You’d make an admirable marine.”

Aygar cocked an eyebrow in challenge. “I think I can do better than that. Commander. I’m not about to settle for second best. Not again. I want the chance to learn. That’s a privilege in the FSP, too, I understand. I want to learn what they didn’t and wouldn’t teach us. They consistently lied to us.” Anger flashed in his eyes, a carefully contained anger that fascinated Sassinak for she hadn’t expected such depths to this young man. “And they kept us ignorant!” That rankled the deepest. Sassinak could almost bless the cautious, paranoid mutineers for that blunder. “Because we,” and when Aygar jabbed, his thumb into his chest he meant all of his generations, “were not meant to have a part of this planet at all!”

“No,” Sassinak said, suddenly recalling another snippet of information gleaned from the cathedral’s Thekian homily, “you weren’t.”

“In fact,” Lunzie began, in a voice as sweet as her descendant’s, “you’ve a score to settle with the planet pirates, too. With the heavyworlders who sent Cruss and that transport ship.”

Aygar shot the medic such a keen look that Sassinak damned her own lapse - that’d teach her to look at the exterior of a man and forget what made him tick.

“You might say I do at that,” he replied in much too mild a tone.

“In that case,” Sassinak said, glancing for approval at Lunzie, “I think we could actually take you on as a… mmm… special advisor?”

“I’ve just signed on in a similar capacity,” Lunzie said when she saw Aygar hesitate. “Special duties. Special training.”

“Not in the usual chain of command,” Sassinak gave him a look that had melted scores of junior officers.

“And who do I have to take orders from?” he asked, looking from Sassinak to Lunzie with the blandest of expressions on his handsome face.

“I’m still the captain,” Sassinak said firmly, with a glare for her great-great-great-grandmother, who only grinned.

“You may be a lightweight, captain, but I think I can endure it,” he said in a drawl, holding her gaze with his twinkling eyes.

“Welcome aboard, specialist Aygar!” And Sassinak extended her hand to take his in a firm shake of commitment.

Lunzie chuckled wickedly. “I think this is going to be a most…” her pause was pregnant “… instructive voyage, granddaughter. Shall we toss for it?”

Just for a moment, Aygar looked from one to the other, with the expression of someone who suspects he hasn’t quite caught a hidden meaning.

“We specialists should stick together,” she added, offering him a glass of the amber brandy. “You’ll drink to that, won’t you. Commander?”

‘That, and other things! Like ‘down with planet piracy!’ “ She pinned Lunzie with a meaningful stare, wondering just what she’d got herself in for this trip.

“Hear, hear!” Lunzie lustily agreed.