Family Law

Mackey Chandler

Cover by Sarah Hoyt

Chapter 1

The campfire cast a yellow bubble of light in the deepening dusk, the exotic wood burning with a sharp spicy smell. The cozy circle of warmth and safety around the open fire was one of the pleasures of being far from civilization. Wildfires on this world burned until they ran out of fuel or were drenched by the rains, so the animals showed a deep fear of fire, fleeing from even the smell of the smoke. Men, on the other hand, worried them not at all. In time, experience would teach the local fauna to fear Man, but for now, the top predators showed no respect and rivaled Old Earth for variety and ferocity.

Relaxed beside their fire, Jack and Myrtle Anderson were unafraid and content. The fire, an electric camp fence, and a carbine laid beside each of them provided plenty of safety against the tiger-like carnivores they'd seen from the air. They were content because this world was remarkable, rich to the point they were sure they had made their last voyage of exploration. Claims on this planet would leave them wealthier than a person could spend in a lifetime of shameless self-indulgence.

Their discovery was what every independent explorer hoped for and so few achieved. Men had found only seventeen worlds with their own complex life. A number of water worlds had bacteria and algae analogs, but only seventeen planets had plants and land animals in complex variety, with air that men could breathe bare-faced. And of the seventeen, three were so deadly they were closed to colonization.

The first few weeks were especially tiresome. It took that long to go through all the protocols just to know they could walk around without a pressure suit. The pygmy pigs knew them from being processed before they were frozen and being cared for the week after being thawed, to normalize them. But they looked strangely at these puffy, scentless strangers with mirrored glass faces, who staked them outside.

The mice and sparrows were indifferent to their pressure suits, never being handled except in cages. In a week, against high odds, they were all still healthy. It was hard working sealed away from the impressive beauty, wondering if the flowers smelled sweet, wanting to feel the breezes bending the grasses, until they knew it wasn't a deadly illusion that would entice them to make a fatal blunder.

Then it took further studies before they went out without a respirator or decontamination showers. It was their sixth week before they went out without gloves and over boots. When they moved camp from one ecology to another they reverted somewhat and ran abbreviated tests with masks and gloves again.

Not just bacteria and viruses, but allergies and molds and aggressive parasites, had to be eliminated as dangers. Some settler might still find a fatal disease lurking in a pocket ecology a hundred years from now, some bacterium lurking in a swamp, or fungus in a rainforest, but they could establish there were some relatively safe areas.

The plant life tended to the same chemical isomers as Earth life and was lacking the nasty alkaloids and other defense chemicals so common to life on some other worlds. One new world had such aggressive plant life it had been named Thorn. By contrast, they agreed to name this world Providence. None of them were strongly religious; it was simply a shameless marketing ploy.

Who would want to colonize a world named Purgatory or Sahara? Paradise and Bountiful were taken and New Earth showed a serious lack of imagination. Even the worlds tagged At Last and Lucky Strike, if positive in tone, had not been named with a thought to writing promotional brochures for colonists and investors. Hanging an odd label on a new world was as bad an idea as saddling your child with a strange name.

Besides the huge granite-ware coffee pot on the edge of the fire, there were some tubers about the size of two fists held together. They were wrapped in foil after being rubbed in cooking oil and salted and peppered. Every once in a while Jack would roll them a bit with a stick, so they cooked evenly. They should be ready by the time their partner joined them for supper.

The crows they brought along ingested them with nary a hiccup, then the mice and finally the monkeys. After all the lab work was fine, Myrtle had worn a dab of the cooked root taped against her skin for twenty-four hours, with no reaction. Jack first ate a sample about the size of a grain of rice. They slowly increased the serving size, taking turns between them and their partner Gordon, until they were sure two hundred grams produced no unpleasant reaction. Several other promising plants would wait to be tested back in civilization. It was a time-consuming process they didn't desire to repeat that often.

The temptation to hurry the process and just dig in had been strong, because the odor of the cooked vegetable was maddening. It combined the fine starchy smell of a potato with oily rich tang of sesame. When the baked root was struck firmly before cutting it open, the interior burst apart into pearly beads like tapioca in a starchy matrix. The texture was as appealing as the taste. They named them Pearl Potatoes.

A pair of eyes appeared in the dark, reflecting the fire like a cat's eyes, but far higher above the ground than any cat would stand. Unafraid of the fire they approached until a few reflections caught off claws and sleek fur, then off an equipment harness and polished leather holster, for a sidearm neither of the Humans could comfortably lift, much less shoot.

When he eased down by the fire their partner Gordon was about the same mass as a mature grizzly bear. True hands on upper arms with opposed thumbs and claws on heavier lower arms angled down from his shoulders. He could run, with frightening speed, on four or six limbs if he rolled his fingers in and ran on his knuckles. To do that now his kind wore special running gloves to protect their hands. His eyes, when he was sitting, were about where Jack's would be standing. He had the same broad flat head of a bruin, indeed wider, but instead of a narrow muzzle, his mouth was a wide arc. Its broad shape resembled nothing else so much as a frog. That is until he opened it and showed the impressive dentition.

Despite it being a natural gesture, most of his kind had learned not to discomfort Humans by smiling. It didn't seem fair given that Humans owned the same smile reflex themselves. His race was called Derf. That word was from their own language and so far Humans had not coined a nick-name or even created a slur for their race. The reason for that was expressed in a common joke after the races' meeting - "What do you call a Derf when you meet him?" The only sensible answer was - "Anything he pleases."

The case Gordon tossed down held over a hundred new samples of every grass, bush, and tree he could recognize as distinct, as well as photos of the site at which they were collected and an audio recording of his observations and impressions. Although he was a botanist he also grabbed samples of insects, or even small animals if he saw something interesting. That was Jack's area of study, but he could follow up on anything Gordon brought back worth pursuing. He even on occasion brought back an interesting rock for Myrtle, their geologist, to examine.

Myrtle handed Gordon a large saucepan for a mug and he poured himself a couple of liters of dark rich coffee. Now that the three adults were together they popped the tabs on some self-heating dinners, the Derf requiring a few extra of course.

"Lee sleeping?" Gordon asked.

"Yes, she wore herself out this afternoon cutting firewood," Myrtle pointed at a pile of kindling. "She wouldn't use a power tool saying she needed to know how to do it the old way, with a saw and axe, in case it was ever a necessity. But her dad did take the axe away when she got so tired she was getting punchy. She stayed awake long enough to eat most of a ration pack and crawled in the sack."

"That kid is into the self-sufficiency stuff so much she'll want to spin the thread and weave her own cloth, next time she needs a pair of jeans." Gordon joked. "You'd think she wanted to stay and be a pioneer."

"God, don't give her the idea. It's bad enough what she comes up with all on her own. She wanted to know last week how hard it would be to smelt some copper from that ore body we found," her mother said.

"Would it be all that difficult if we had coal, or made some charcoal?" Gordon asked.

"No, but she didn't really have anything she wanted to make with it. She just thought it would be cool to do," Jack explained. "Then we'd have a heavy hunk of copper we'd have to lug around as a keepsake until she got tired of it. At least when she was on the baking kick we ate the bread up. I deflected her by telling her about native copper, so now she's carrying a sensor pad with mineral software around everywhere and looking for native metals. Who knows? She may find some."

"If she does I'll list it as a separate land patent in her name," her mother said. "We've hit the legal limits to our claims as individuals, but nothing I've ever read in the codes says a minor member of an exploration party can't make claims." They grinned all around, happy to be reminded of their good fortune to have a find worth even their junior member writing claims. They'd never done so before.

"Likely nobody ever envisioned explorers having children along," Gordon mused, careful not to sound critical. They certainly hadn't, it was most irregular. "What have you got started there?" he asked, pointing at the self-heating meals. He pulled his great axe from his belt and held it, edge away, for a serving platter with his heavy clawed lower arms. He shattered one of the roots on the flat of the axe, before peeling the foil open exposing the creamy beads. The rich odor was mouth-watering.

"Two braised liver," Myrtle made a disgusted face to show what she thought of that, "and two fish."

"Umm-um," Gordon made a fuss over them, ignoring Myrtle's tongue tip thrust out in disgust. They'd done this a hundred times and it was just expected now. After fourteen years together they had a lot of little rituals and jokes they went through. Although the Humans were the married couple, all three of them could finish each other's sentences and knew at a glance in the morning when to tread lightly and not hassle one of them who was having a bad day.

Lee had been born onboard three years into their first trip, so Gordon had known her from the start, twelve Earth years, pushing thirteen now. She was a big girl for twelve, but not heavy at all, just long-limbed and promising to be a big woman when grown.

Gordon ripped the cover back from the two liver meals and dumped the contents on top of the pearl potatoes. The sautéed onions and bacon really made it for him. He produced a huge antique serving fork in sterling silver and mixed the ingredients on his axe face. Myrtle ignored him and dug into her own Pot Roast and Vegetables.

Eight bites later he was ready to do the same with the remaining potatoes and fish. The fish had macaroni and cheese with it. Gordon wasn't supposed to eat much cheese, but they wouldn't be closed in with him tonight so it wouldn't matter.

Gordon finished first and curled back to the fire on a ground cover, in a furry mound with his weapons beside him. When the Humans went to bed they piled enough fresh wood on the fire to qualify it as a bonfire and checked the perimeter sensors before joining their daughter in the tent. Gordon didn't stir at their activity.

* * *

The insistent buzz of the perimeter alarm jolted Gordon out of his sleep. He slapped the shut off on his pad and reached down tugging up the seals on his boots. By the time he stood, slid his pistol in its holster, and tucked his axe in his belt, Jack was standing at the entry of their tent with a long gun. Everybody was awake by then, so Gordon went ahead and turned the perimeter lights on.

There was a bobbing, rippling front of gray-green movement approaching, so solid he thought at first glance it was a flash flood. Then the movement and color suddenly resolved in the harsh light, into bobbing heads with big eyes, above bodies shoving forward shoulder to shoulder. The hot wire on the perimeter, which would stop a single large predator, hadn't stood against a pack that crushed the front runners over it from behind. They were eerily silent except for the drumming of taloned feet on the soft ground. Jack let off a long burst of automatic fire that cut the entire front row down. The living flood just rolled over the hump of bodies without pause.

Gordon picked up his long weapon and flicked the selector to flechettes. The darts from the 30mm shotgun tore through three or four ranks of the reptilian creatures before they lost momentum. That cut a real notch in their ranks, but the pack was so big they were being flanked. He couldn't spare the time to look, but Jack's weapon sounded its higher pitched stutter again and was joined by a second long chatter that would be Myrtle firing beside Jack.

He saw a movement in the corner of his eye and turned. The approaching creature leaped as it attacked, to bring its hind legs up to claw. Gordon sidestepped and swung the butt of his weapon, catching it under the chin and folding its head back at an angle nothing with a spine could survive. He dropped the muzzle again and swept all behind them, cutting down the ones who had flanked them and were trying to circle back. The lights seemed to blind them making them stumble into each other.

By the time Gordon turned full circle, spraying a line of death, all the creatures were down except where his friends were under a roiling sea green clump. The tent behind them was collapsed. Out of flechettes, he switched to solid rounds and aimed head high, afraid of hitting his partners on the bottom of the pile. Most of them went down with one long stuttering burst, but a couple of them who'd been leaning below his line of fire turned and rushed him. He dropped the rifle and pulled his axe from his belt, swinging it double handed. The first jumped from so far out it was easy to sidestep for someone with his reflexes and once in the air, the creature couldn't change its trajectory.

His axe bit almost to the center of the leading creature's body as it flew past. Stinging hot blood sprayed down his arm clear to his shoulder, steaming in the cold night air. Even mortally wounded it was voiceless. The second animal, seeing its partner killed, changed tactics, and ran at him head held low and jaws open. Gordon swung the axe backhand, catching it on the side of its round head with the flat of the blade. The muted clang left one side of its head as flat as the axe and it rolled away legs still running, though it was dead. At last, it was still and quiet, nothing in sight standing. He turned slowly looking for signs of any stirring. The still air was heavy with the sharp smell of propellant and the rich butchery smell of hot smashed bodies.

Gordon grabbed the long lizard tail of one of the dead, dragging it off the pile at the tent entry. It looked pretty much like pictures he'd seen of Velociraptors. Shorten the neck a bit and make the head egg-shaped and it was close enough. He kept digging until he pulled the last one off his friend Jack. Myrtle was tucked halfway under him. Then he sat down and cried.

After a while, he continued. They'd got past his partners inside the tent and he slit it open with his axe pulling the dead creatures away. The sleeping bag he uncovered was ripped and chewed, despite being tough ballistic cloth, but looking closer he was surprised to see it was whole and peppered with small holes. Lee had shot from inside her bag, defending herself with her pistol. When he didn't move or make noise for a moment there was a hesitant - "Dad?"

"No, Lee - your uncle Gordon. Don't shoot."

"They're dead, aren't they? I heard you crying."

"Yes, honey. I'm sorry. I did all I could. There were just too many of them."

"Uncle Gordon, I need to go to the bathroom really bad. Can I go to the latrine?"

That was a problem. Their camp latrine was under a heap of dead monsters. "Lee, there are some things there I don't want you to see. Will you promise me to keep your eyes closed and I'll carry you?"

"I promise."

He let the child unzip the bag, her small fingers better for the task, and scooped her up one-armed, pistol in his other true arm and axe in his powerful lower arms, claws set in the wooden shaft. She pushed her face against his chest and grasped his combat harness, his chest fur too short to hang onto.

Opposite the tent from the bodies he stopped after about twenty meters and made sure she couldn't see her parents from there.

"OK, down and do your business while I guard." Gordon leaned over and scooped a hole with a single swipe of a lower arm, claws turning back a big divot of sod. He stood back up, stretched tall, slowly scanning for danger. As always with Humans the stink was terrible. Not that any of them could help it, but his nose was always offended.

"I don't have any paper here," Lee complained.

"I'm not stepping away from you for anything. There may be some straggler come waltzing in after the pack, or a wounded one could get sorted out and rush us."

"Never mind," Lee said and shrugged out of her undershirt and cleaned herself thoroughly with that, throwing it in the hole too. Then she kicked the divot in to spare him bending back down. She knew how badly the smell bothered him.

"Up, on my neck, Lee. I'm going to put you in the air-car and then I'll get just a few things we need to take back. We'll stay there until morning. I don't want to fly back to the shuttle in the dark. I've never been a great air-car pilot. The seat moves back far enough for me, but the controls are still Human-sized. I really have to have a delicate hand to use them."

Lee settled on Gordon's shoulders, legs around his great neck, and grabbed the mat of fur under his ears on each side. He rose to look around and then settled back to six limbs to lope up the hill to where their air-car was parked, still within the lighted perimeter.

"Uncle Gordon, I'm afraid. If more of those animals come and get you, I'll be stranded all alone. I can't run the shuttle or the ship. Can't you stay inside with me where it's safe, until morning and then get the things you need in daylight?"

Gordon was afraid that by morning there would be scavengers. He wanted to recover the Andersons as whole as possible, also a single copy of the creatures that attacked them. But what the girl said was true. If he did something stupid and got himself killed she would die too. Maybe the lights would keep the bigger ones away. It would be unkind to scare her all over again by leaving her alone.

"OK, Lee. We'll do it your way and in the morning I'll lift the aircar and look all around before grabbing the stuff from our camp. I don't know why we didn't see any of these critters on our scan when we surveyed the area. They're hot-blooded. The one sprayed blood on me when I axed him and it almost scalded me. They should have stood out like a beacon on infrared, even if they were solitary and only form up a pack when they run prey, there weren't enough single animals on scan to make this group up. Not within fifty kilometers. Even if we had raised full chain link hot fences and razor wire rolls in between, I'm not sure that pack wouldn't have pushed it down."

"Maybe they weren't hot when you looked," Lee suggested.

"How's that?" Gordon asked.

"Maybe when they are full they are cold-blooded and sit around digesting for a long time to make it last, but when they get hungry they switch on and get hot-blooded to make running and hunting easier."

"That's really good thinking, Lee. You might just have something there." He lifted her off double-handed and through the hatch into the car. He pulled out a couple of blankets they used as lap robes and laid them on the seat for her. Gordon would just curl in a ball on the flat cargo area behind the seats.

"I know it may be hard, but we're safe in here, just lay still and rest if you can't sleep." Gordon laid his axe under his elbow and hitched his pistol around where it wasn't in the way and tucked himself in a ball. Sleep for him came surprisingly easy.

Chapter 2

Gordon woke in the early dawn, the perimeter lights still blazing, but the sky behind them a bright salmon instead of black. Sticking up between his true arms was a little head with her nose buried in his armpit. Her arms were curled in front of her, with her hands crossed and palms on her shoulders. Her legs were tucked up to and his second set of arms, crossed so that they went behind her tucking her in close.

"Umm, somebody left me a little snack in the night," Gordon rumbled in her ear and thrust a wet nose into the sensitive skin behind it.

"Ahhh, ahhh, cold nose!!!" Lee protested, twisting to get away. That just got her another nose attack right between the shoulder blades. She kept turning until she went full circle, looking him in the face and then her expression changed as she remembered last night and what happened.

"Oh Unc'," she wailed and cried and cried, until she finally ran down and gave herself the hiccups. "What are we going to do?"

"What people always do," he explained softly, gently grooming her hair behind her ears. "We feel sad, but get on with all the things we have to do to live. It's harder for a while. We never entirely forget, but it does get easier not to be sad after some time."

"We weren't done." Lee protested.

"I know," Gordon agreed, understanding exactly what she meant.

* * *

From the air, everything for kilometers around looked like it had in the days before the attack. The huge eyes on the creatures gave him hope they didn't hunt in the daylight. Gordon circled around and landed, with the tent off of the car's back quarter where Lee couldn't see. There were no big scavengers yet, just a few rat analogs that scurried away as soon as he opened the door.

Jack and Myrtle went in specimen bags, as well as the monster whose neck he'd broken. He'd have saved one of each sex, but he didn't see any obvious gender signs. The aircar had external chill lockers for such cargo, so Lee was spared riding with body bags in the cabin.

That task taken care of, Gordon allowed Lee out to salvage anything important to her, while he watched. She found her computer, the metal detector she'd been using, a couple of spare magazines for her pistol that was down to six rounds, and her jacket. Gordon recovered his own sample case, their weapons, and his friends' personal computers.

Gordon recovered some ration packs, but most of the equipment like the lights he just abandoned as irrelevant and not worth the risk of exposing himself to injury recovering them, with no backup adults to get them off-planet. He'd never need them again and the capital that they represented, so dear when they were bought, was nothing against the claim they had now. The bulk of their supplies were still in the aircar anyway. This was just one of several camps they'd have made on this continent, before returning to the shuttle. That plan was done.

"I didn't get to tell mom, look what I found down by the stream, Unc'." Lee pulled a couple of beautiful gold nuggets out of her jacket pocket and showed him. They were big ones, the largest easily a hundred grams.

"I'm glad you showed me that before we left," Gordon made sure his computer was streaming to the expedition log and spoke.

"Note to our log - Claim number one for Lee Anderson, the valley of our third camp on Providence, claim marker 37-14-1239, with all adjoining peaks and a hundred kilometers beyond the drainage divide defined by those peaks. In particular all mineral rights, timber rights, as well as surface rights and riparian rights clear to the ocean to which the river drains. A patent to Lee Anderson and her heirs in perpetuity, whether residents or not."

"I've never had a claim of my own before," Lee said, eyes wide with surprise.

"High time you did then. Not that we found all that much before worth claiming, but your folks mentioned it for this world. You know you'll hold all the claims your mom and dad had, as well as two of the three general shares for the whole discovery?"

"I'm rich then aren't I?" Lee asked. It seemed a novel idea.

"So am I, Honey. We're both so stinking rich it's hard to understand. This is a world a ship with a crew of fifty or sixty would be delighted to find for a corporation and still count themselves rich off just their bonuses. If you think of anything else you want to claim before we leave speak up. Your folks and I claimed pretty close to the limits for individuals, but this valley is only about a quarter of what you could claim. That's just something nice to have. The real money is in the finder's percentage and we only split it three ways," Gordon caught himself and frowned. "Two now," he corrected softly.

Lee looked at the vast vista, the bowl of the valley filling their vision bounded by snow-capped mountains on both sides. It stretched away from them, growing wider, so far away that the bordering mountains marched over the horizon on their way to the distant sea. Gordon didn't say anything, letting her come to grips with having such a vast possession.

"Gordon, can I make a rule about how my land is used?" Lee asked.

"Sure, that's why I was so specific in making the claim for you."

"OK, I'd like to make it a rule nobody can ever build a house or anything for ten kilometers around where our camp was. They can put up a plaque or a statue or something to show where mom and dad died, but that's it. It should be like a park and nobody can sell it off."

"It's on the log, Lee. It's like law now," Gordon promised.

"Good."

After they were in the air and headed back to the shuttle Lee asked Gordon, "Do you think those dinos could swim?"

"I really doubt it. Their tail is too thin and round and the feet have no webbing. Their tiny forelegs are probably not sufficient to keep their heads above water and they are very dense bone and muscle. Maybe if they were smart enough to hold on to a piece of wood like a life jacket, but I have my doubts they are that intelligent."

"Then I'd like to claim a nice island somewhere," Lee said. "Far enough from this continent there shouldn't be any of those lizards there."

"We'll look on our survey and pick a couple out," Gordon said. "If those critters give settlers much trouble, a couple of nice islands might be choice real estate. But my guess is after ten or twenty years they will be asking if they should set a preserve aside to keep them from going extinct. That's what happens with predators big enough to threaten man or his livestock."

* * *

Gordon set a course for Derfhome without consulting Lee. If her parents had been alive they would have set out straight for Earth automatically. They needed to file claims for their planet and Derf had no such registry, only Earth. It wasn't critical to hurry, because they'd left a claim satellite in orbit. That and their records gave them five years to make their claims.

Claim jumping was not something he feared. That had been firmly eliminated a long time ago. The huge exploration companies saw to it, because they didn't want to expend half their energies and treasure fighting over keeping what they found. Their huge find would rattle a few people, but not enough to bring the system down. There had been two big finds by independents before, with no problem. Indeed, the big exploration companies found occasional news of such a find produced a flood of quality applicants.

Lee had been studying all morning. Gordon was pleased she'd taken up the routine of her lessons without his prompting. For a few of the things her mom and dad had tutored her, she was on her own for now. He could neither spar with her nor teach guitar. Otherwise, the ship's library had all the lesson materials anyone could wish.

Gordon had always been one of her tutors too. It had been the natural thing to ask his help when he was the closest adult. Besides Derf, Gordon had taught her German and was currently learning Japanese with her, using an interactive program on the computer. He was also an accomplished artist in watercolors and colored pencil and shared that with her. Sometimes now though the lesson was interrupted when something made Lee think of her mom or dad and she needed to be held not tutored.

Gordon waited to talk to her until after they were in a shipboard routine and he felt sure Lee was stable emotionally. She was still mourning, he was too, but she was sleeping OK and she was not in denial. She didn't avoid speaking of her mom and dad or pretend they were still alive. The crying was tapering off after a couple of weeks. After lunch, he took the opportunity.

"Lee, there's something we need to talk about."

"Every time Mom said that to me it was something bad."

"It's serious," Gordon allowed. "But it doesn't have to be bad. I need to know what you want to do now, with the choices we can give you. You know we're both going to be rich. That makes some things easier, because we can both afford to do almost anything we want. We have to decide what you want to do and where you want to live for the next six years until you are an adult. You aren't used to living with other people, but you are going to have to learn how to get along with crowds of folks who aren't family. It might not be as easy as you think."

"Anywhere you want to live is fine with me," Lee agreed, with an indifferent shrug. "You'd know better than me where it's nice. We could go around and look at different places. All I know is the High Hopes and I've only seen a regular house on video. I've lived in a hotel for a couple of weeks between trips. I know most people have a permanent place they stay, like in the videos." Gordon said nothing and let her rattle on.

Lee stopped and looked funny at Gordon. "Or are you saying you don't want me to live with you anymore?" Her voice caught on a ragged edge and she looked scared worse than when she'd come out of the sleeping bag.

"No, that's not what I'm saying. In fact, that's the first thing I want to offer and get out of the way. I'd like to adopt you as your guardian if you're willing," Gordon offered.

"Well of course," Lee got up and came around the table, pushing his true arms open to step in. "Hold me, Uncle Gordon. You shouldn't scare me like that. You're the only family I've got and I never had any other idea but that I'd be with you. Nobody else knows me and I love you."

"And I love you too," Gordon said, gently scratching with four-inch claws right between her shoulder blades where she liked, "but other people might have a hard time with us being family. I can almost guarantee you no other little Human girl is living with Derf as family, much less adopted."

"Oh, come on," Lee scoffed. "With all the billions of people and all the way things can happen? Dad always said if something can happen it will eventually."

"Eventually," Gordon allowed. "And somebody has to be first. You have no idea how rare it is for a child to grow up on a space ship. Your mom and dad always were nervous those times between trips, when we lived in a hotel. They were always worried some busybody would object that it was no way to raise a child and ask the court to take you away so you'd have a normal life. Somehow, I think they may have an even harder time with the idea of me being your surrogate daddy. A lot of people will see me as your parents' business partner and no familial relation at all."

"Well, I'll tell them different," Lee said. "It would be just wrong to pull us apart."

"Thank you," Gordon said, pleased. "You may have to tell them. I want to stop at Derfhome first before we go to Earth. I set course already before talking to you, so we have to stop there now, no matter what we do. If you will be my daughter I intend to adopt you there on Derfhome first and that makes it harder for anyone to argue at Earth. So you have a couple of weeks to get used to the idea and talk about it. If you have any conditions, well, Derf law is a lot more flexible than Earth law. Derf can form just about any contract they wish and it's nobody else's business."

"How can you ask conditions to be family?" Lee asked.

"Humans do it all the time when they marry. They write up a prenuptial agreement that says how and where they will live, or how much of a household budget one will have if they don't have their own money. It may be a second or third marriage and one partner wants his wealth set aside for their own children, separate from any heirs the other has. That might be a good idea for you," Gordon suggested. "If you are my daughter I'd be your heir if something happened to you. If you leave the money to somebody else, it would remove any thought I was adopting you for your money. It's not like I don't have plenty of my own."

Lee made a face to show what she thought of that.

"We might agree to spend a certain amount of time on Earth, or another Human world, so you get used to dealing with other Humans," Gordon suggested.

"There are Humans on Derfhome, right?" Lee asked.

"Yes, but it's not a Human society. Dealing with a society is a lot different than dealing with individuals. You have laws and bureaucracy and customs that are more rigid than either, truth be known. You'll see."

Chapter 3

Derfhome didn't look that much different from orbit than Earth. Different shapes to the land, a little bit less water, but blue and green and brown, with white swirls much the same. Lee was old enough now to appreciate the complexities of approaching a civilized world. She's been eight when they had been to Grandhome, as their last planetfall. She'd sat at a dead console then, reading a book, quite bored with the adults droning on about stuff on the com.

This time Lee sat at a live board, side by side with Gordon, and listened to all the traffic control commands and clearances he had to deal with. He muted his mic frequently and explained as much as he could. She might have to do it herself someday. Traffic control was still in English just like Earth and had been going clear back to pre-space aircraft, but Lee could tell not all the Derf were as fluent or unaccented as Gordon.

Their ship, the High Hopes, had a four-seat command deck and was technically a ten-person ship, ten Humans that is. Gordon used a lot more life support, equal to about three Humans. One of the reasons they bought a Falcon IV was it was designed after the discovery of Derfhome and had Derf capable corridors and hatches. In seventy years Derf not only been crew, but there were now Derf who owned ships. When Derf had first gone along in Human ships they were often stuck in a hold, with access to most of the ship impossible.

A Derf cabin was made in a Falcon by the expedient of removing a partition between two Human cabins. Since they had room to spare Gordon had taken the volume of three Human cabins and the Andersons had made theirs a double. Exploration ships never had enough room for supplies, or specimens and materials coming back, so the other rooms weren't wasted. One was an armory and one an autosurgery. Both made double so Gordon could use them too. Only Lee had a single and her mom had been worried that was too small for her now.

Rather than take their own shuttle down to Derfhome it was much cheaper to dock at an orbital and take a commercial shuttle down. That avoided all kinds of complications and delay of decontaminating their shuttle because it had been in a new biosphere. Sealing it off made it much simpler and infinitely cheaper. Fuel, water, and other consumables could be supplied without breaching quarantine. Only they had to be decontaminated.

They left all their personal items on board, except what was on their back and Gordon's carry case with ID and his bank cards.

The first thing they had to do coming from a new live world was submit to a medical evaluation and a very thorough clean up, which included special showers and hard vacuum cleaning of what they carried before they were free to enter public spaces.

The Anderson's remains would be taken from their hold where Gordon had laid them by the lock, easy to remove and handled like biohazard for autopsy and cremation. Gordon didn't intend to talk to Lee about that unless she asked. No point at all in stirring up every horrible memory when she was doing so well.

Any well-populated world had such procedures, but exploration ships often had to stop at the first port they could make. A newer colony world would probably just service their ship and turn them away if they couldn't evaluate them, maybe even put medical staff aboard if needed and send them along.

Their log was examined for any fevers or medical problems and they had swabs and blood samples drawn. If they hadn't been in flight for near a month they'd have been required to sit out a ten-day incubation period before entering the habitat, much less the world below. They exited their ship directly into a medical suite.

The doctor who entered stood back and asked in English if Lee was comfortable being examined by her, or if she wanted to wait until her parent was done with his examination and could be present? The doctor was a female Derf with lighter fur, noticeably smaller than Gordon.

"I'm sure if you have been assigned this task you are wholly qualified. I would never be so rude as to question your ability when I have no medical training," Lee said. The fact that she said it in perfect Derf and made the gesture of respect crossing her true (and only) hands palm in seemed to surprise the nice lady.

"Well, I see it'll be easy enough talking with you. Some Human children are scared of Derf if they haven't been around them. We are after all big and look a lot different. How do you come to speak Derf so well?"

"From my uncle Gordon who's going to be my... stepdad now," Lee said, reverting to English. She didn't know how you could say that in Derf.

"I don't understand that phrase," the lady doctor said.

"Is he in another room close-by?" Lee asked.

The lady looked at the computer she carried and touched a couple of places. "Yes, he's two doors down the hall."

"Why don't you go peek in at him and everything will be clear," Lee promised.

When the doctor came back she was chuckling, with a grin like a Great White, and wasn't worried Lee would take it wrong. Neither did she hang back to avoid scaring her.

"Whatever 'step' means, that Derf is one fine looking hunk, in case you didn't know it. You put in a good word for doctor Shaborbroh if you get a chance."

"He's rich too," Lee told her and got another genuine laugh. She wondered if the doctor was what Derf considered good looking too? She'd have to ask Gordon how to tell. Maybe have him point out examples. She'd been away from people so long growing up she wasn't sure she even knew what was good looking or ugly for her own species. Sometimes the examples they put forth in movies and vid didn't make sense to her. Everything she'd read made it clear it was important to a lot of people. All of a sudden she realized she didn't know if she was pretty or plain. Unc' was right. This dealing with groups was going to be complicated.

When she was done Lee was probably cleaner than she'd ever been before, still slightly damp and terribly hungry because her entire digestive tract had been flushed out and examined. She smelled of antiseptic and even her ears had been swabbed for cultures and peered in and carefully cleaned. They'd decided she could keep her hair. She could have put up with losing it, but she wondered how Uncle Gordon would like being shaved?

The doctor returned and gave her two packets, one to be added to her next meal and the other a tube of gel to be rubbed all over her skin.

"You can start on the gel now if you want. You've had the bacteria stripped from you so thoroughly you need to restore the beneficial varieties and these are cultures of them."

Lee's clothing was not processed yet so she was waiting for them, sitting on the Derf idea of a blanket, on a Derf examination table about the size of a billiard table. The top was almost to her armpit level off the floor and she'd had to jump and throw a leg over the edge, to make it up there when she first came in. She started at her toes and rubbed little dabs of the gel all over. It seemed to be oil based instead of water, so it wasn't cold.

It helped that Derf kept the temperature at a very comfortable level for a Human in bare skin, instead of freezing their patients in paper gowns like Human doctors. It was quite different than the dimly remembered one time in her life she'd seen a Human doctor. That had been when she was six years old and she'd had a physical and inoculations, the first time they returned to civilization after her birth.

* * *

Humans were common enough on the orbital station that there were plenty of restaurants with Human scale chairs and silverware. The guide book said the port below was the same too. Out in the countryside though, Humans had best have their own silverware and pillows, clothing and medicines, or do without. The guide suggested a folding step stool was a handy thing to have along too.

When released, Lee and Gordon went straight to a restaurant. It was between the usual meal times, so it wasn't crowded. Lee ordered like she'd never eat again. Most of the Derf items on the menu were things she'd tried, because Gordon had them along on the ship. She was offered a Human menu and ordered off it and off the Derf menu too. A double cheeseburger with sweet onion relish didn't surprise the waiter, but a bowl of devil horn soup from the Derf sheet did. It was mixing bowl size and full of an egg drop broth with little black peppers, that rivaled habañeros for heat.

There were tables with Derf and tables with Humans. There were even a few tables with a mix. But there were no other children of either species in the restaurant and everybody was trying hard not to stare at the pair of them. They might as well have gone ahead and satisfied their curiosity, for all the success they were having.

While they waited they plotted. "While we're here you should see a few of the sights. You never really know when you'll get back. It's been fifteen years for me and that wasn't something I planned," Gordon told her.

"Does your family know we're coming?" Lee asked.

"I dropped them mail saying we'd be around. Things don't change very quickly in a Derf holding. I expect things will look much the same as when I left. We'll spend a week at least. Anything less would suggest we didn't really want to be there. Derf do things slower than Humans. Some of that is probably because we live longer. You knew that didn't you?"

"Yes, I know that Derf can live over two hundred T-years. But I have no idea how old you are, Unc'."

"I'm coming up on seventy, sneaking up on middle age for a Derf. Not old enough they will try to get me to settle down back at home, but old enough to get a little respect from the youngsters who remember me from my last visit. There are some other places we should see while we're here. We should see the Richards' monument and graveyard."

"Who's he and when did he die?" Lee wondered.

"Oh, nobody knows what happened to Richards. It's his monument, but the graveyard part is for some of his crewmates who died here. That's who is in the cemetery. He jumped out of Fargone twenty years or so ago on an explorer like us and the ship was never seen again. He was the commander on the ship that discovered Derf, discovered for Humans that is. We've been here all along of course. You haven't read the story?" Gordon wondered.

"No, I know it was about seventy years ago. I haven't read much modern history. Dad has been having me study lots of old stuff, pre-space stuff." Lee got her soup then, so Gordon told her the story while she ate.

"Our first contact that we had with outsiders - Humans - was with a big company ship. They located a group of Derf out on a hunt. It was as if an alien race surveyed a modern Earth and decided to contact a family of Mongol herders instead of setting down in Moscow. It might have seemed safer to them, but it was a slow way to initiate contact. All the people with real authority were in the clan keeps.

"This group was seasonal hunters and trappers and they appeared to have a pretty low level of tech to the Humans. They used mostly bronze for their axes and arrow points. They were clansmen sent to hunt in the fall who would return to their keep to winter over. Not what Humans think of as true nomads.

"There were no radio emissions, so they assumed Derf had no electronics. Truth was, even then, most clan seats were connected by shielded telephone lines, radio was slow to be adapted because our star interferes with it so much. Derf made good steel too, but it was expensive and limited in use to such things as better knives and surgical instruments. In fairness, some of that was the fact we have some really exceptional bronze alloys that substitute well for steel. We even had firearms, although they were very expensive and rare.

"Derf can pull a stiff bow and we're the biggest thing in the woods, so we don't need guns for protection. We killed off the few predators who could challenge us in our prehistory. And it's been about twelve hundred years since we had a clan war, so there isn't any big market for military weapons.

"The Humans sent a shuttle down, spread blankets, and put out some trade goods near the clansmen. The Derf came in cautiously. That was just smart if you consider they had never seen anything before that was clearly a flying artifact. We have no history of UFO sightings in popular culture like you people. After three days of feeling each other out, most of both sides felt safe to visit.

"They traded a few words and were starting to trade a few trinkets. They were getting a feel for relative value. Some things there was no interest in, and they would be withdrawn by the side that offered them. The Humans ran a camera on the shuttle recording it all and the Derf sent a junior member of their party as a runner to inform their clan.

"On the third day, one of the shuttle crew made a mistake. She felt intimidated, took a step back, and put her hand on her gun. They might have been country folk, but the Derf weren't stupid. They knew what weapons were, just by how they were carried and they knew what firearms were, even if they didn't have such a luxury.

"The Derf was a female, like the crew-person. She pointed at the hand on the pistol and used one of the few words they knew. She said quite clearly on the video - 'No.' The second mistake the Earthies made was another of the crew, misreading the confrontation between the crew woman and Derf, grabbed at his weapon too. But he made the fatal error of trying to draw it. Derf custom is crystal clear; if you draw a weapon, it's assumed you intend to use it.

"The poor fellow had a bronze axe in his breast bone before he even fully cleared leather. Once it goes bad like that, with everybody drawing weapons, there's no recovering. The shuttle video showed it was over in three seconds. The final score was Derf: 7, Humans: 0, bronze against modern weapons."

"Ouch," Lee said, grimacing.

"Indeed. Here my people are, with a bunch of dead aliens on their hands and they didn't know what to do with them. I mean they were obviously people, so they couldn't just let them lay exposed, but they didn't know if Human's custom was to bury their dead, or cremate them, or what. They didn't know if any more they met would be hostile or not and didn't want to further antagonize them.

"So the Derf did what they'd do for their own. They cut wood and built great stacked funeral pyres and laid the bodies on top in as good an order as they could. All this was in front of the camera on the shuttle, although they didn't know that it was watching them. But they didn't light the pyres; they left one male to guard them against scavengers and withdrew.

"Now because the Humans had a big ship, they had a second shuttle. They could have been stupid and wiped the Derf party out from the air. Or they could have tried a new contact somewhere else, thinking word would not get out, since they didn't know we had telephones.

"Fortunately for everybody, Commander Richards had a brain, just like our male who made the funeral pyres. He watched the video from the grounded shuttle several times. The Derf treated his dead with respect and stole nothing of the trade goods laid out. He related later, that made him decide to land a crew to recover the first shuttle and he went down too.

"He did something quite brave. He tossed his gun belt in the airlock and walked down to meet the Derf unarmed. The male there reciprocated by lodging his axe in a tree, before walking up to Richards. Not that he needed it given his mass and claws, but it was a nice gesture. Once they were talking again the Derf called in his eldest female of the hunters, to be principle voice. They made especially sure the Humans understood Derf custom about drawing a weapon.

"The basic agreement they held out for was that Derf were to be treated exactly equal to Humans. Now remember, this is a work party they contacted at random. Not some clan elders who were used to negotiating with their peers. And hunters, not some city folk, or traders who are used to doing business deals. So they did a hell of a job of representing for our whole race with the first aliens we'd ever seen.

"Commander Richards agreed to equality eventually, although it took some days. I'm sure, now that I know Humans better, that he knew it would not go over well at home. The final version was - Humans would follow Derf law on Derfhome and Derf would follow Human law on Earth. They also established right there at the start that Humans and Derf could buy and sell land outside of clan territories as individuals, but there would be no extraterritoriality. Derf would not be forced onto reservations, or concede tracts of land to Humans.

"When word got back to Earth a lot of people were unhappy with Commander Richards. But it was within his authority to negotiate and it was affirmed by a Congress who accepted his word that his people were in error and worried about creating enemies. It's certainly better than the treaties anyone else has gotten from Man. As far as we're concerned he was a great statesman. It wasn't Humans that put up a monument to him, it was we Derf," Gordon said.

"I'd like to see that," Lee agreed. "Did they honor your people on the monument too?"

"That's not our way of doing things. It would be an embarrassment to anyone still alive. That was only seventy years ago. Maybe later after they have died we might add them. This was so soon after I was born I was too young to remember it, so they still count me in the generation born before contact. And do you know? I'd bet maybe one in ten thousand Humans have ever seen a Derf still. There's just too damn many of you," Gordon complained.

"But almost everybody has seen pictures," Lee pointed out. "Not that they do you justice." She decided to share what the doctor told her about his being a 'hunk'. Just then his food came and no matter how she prodded him he wouldn't discuss it pretending to have his mouth full and ignoring that topic. She gave up and worked on an apple-caramel confection with vanilla ice cream, until one more bite and she'd need to be carried away.

"Oh my, that's so much better than ration packs," Lee told him.

"Your days of eating ration packs are over," Gordon said, laughing. "Just don't expect everything to be this fancy in the backcountry when you meet my family. This is a five-star restaurant. Just having a live waiter tells you it's ritzy. There might be half a dozen places in the system that can cook like this and three of them are probably on-station. My family cooks simple, peasant style, Humans would say. But it's fresh and in season, even if it isn't all fancy sauces and garnishes."

"Can we afford this?" Lee asked Gordon, really looking around for the first time.

"We have enough cash to live very well for some months. Once we reveal some of our claims we'll have a letter of credit before we go to Earth, that will let you buy this place if you want on a whim."

"I'm so stuffed I'd take a low-g hotel room if they have them here," Lee said.

"I already got us rooms at the Lunar Suites. It's about seventy percent g, but the restaurant is about ten percent over because that's Derf standard. In a half-hour you'll be complaining you're hungry anyway."

It was a nasty lie. It took Lee over an hour.

* * *

Lee woke up in the dark and strained to see something. There was a pale blue glow of a night light shining out of the bathroom door. A few sparks of color that glowed here and there where LEDs, marking the location of electronics in the dark. The hotel smelled different than their ship and despite sound deadening, faint strange noises and thumps bothered her sleep.

Gordon was curled up, back into the corner of the room, and she was in his arms where she'd been sleeping every night for the last month. She felt safe there and neither of them could see any reason she should be all alone in a cold bed. In fact, they had taken a Derf room that didn't have a Human bed, just a padded sleeping mat.

Chapter 4

It might be a while before Lee felt safe again. There had been a couple of times she'd woke her Uncle Gordon with a bad dream and she was afraid he would make her sleep alone if she kept waking him up. Somehow, being held safe by seven hundred kilos of ferocious personal protector eased the dreams.

It did bother her she had to leave her pistol on the ship, right when she felt so vulnerable. She'd only had it the last six months while they explored Providence, long enough she'd grown used to having it on her belt. Her mom had delivered one of those, "We have to talk about this," discussions with her and impressed her with how it was a big, adult responsibility, a notable step in growing up.

After instructing her for several sessions her mother had given Lee the translucent plastic pistol to keep with her. You could see the cream-colored slim rounds packed inside, thirty-six of them in a magazine. She'd practiced a lot with it on Providence, assured they had lots of ammunition. It was semi-suppressed, the muzzle blast attenuated. Nothing could entirely mitigate the shock wave the hypervelocity projectiles created.

The little three-millimeter weapon didn't have the punch of the ones the adults carried, but it had been more than enough to stop a predator trying to chew its way into her sleeping bag. All that target practice hadn't meant much. Every time one had started chewing at the bag, she jammed the little pistol against its prodding head and fired through the bag.

Sometimes it took two or three shots before it stopped thrashing, but eventually, she had been buried in a mound of dead dinos. At one point Lee was worried she'd be squashed under the weight of corpses, instead of eaten. It was no wonder she had dreams. But despite the comfort it brought, Uncle Gordon explained by law you simply don't carry on a habitat.

After a while, the lights came up, as Gordon had asked the house computer to do last night. He was breathing slowly one second and then there was that little pause when he woke, where he was even stiller than in his sleep for an instant, listening and looking around him.

"Good morning my little morsel. Would you like to go out to breakfast, or shall I just eat you right here?" Gordon asked.

"Like to see you try. I'm tough," Lee informed him, and gave him a little thump on the chest.

"Yes and probably stringy and too salty as well. Perhaps instead, some pancakes with berries and whipped cream and a side of eggs and sausage?" Gordon knew her tastes well.

"And some bagels with cream cheese and lox. But none for you," Lee remembered quickly. "Otherwise they'd have to evacuate the station."

"But you will sit and eat it in front of me, knowing I can't partake?" Gordon said, looking woebegone.

"I'll tell you how good it is so you can, uh, enjoy me enjoying it," Lee said.

"Vicariously is the word you are looking for," Gordon informed her. "I want to hear you find an opportunity to use it three times today, as your language lesson. That doesn't get you out of your Japanese lesson though. After breakfast, we have to buy you some clothes. We have an appointment with the bank this afternoon and you should wear something nicer than shorts and a t-shirt."

"Why? You'll be wearing fur and maybe some boots. Or are you going to buy some pants?" Lee asked. She started giggling picturing him in pants. "Maybe some lederhosen and a cute pair of suspenders with flowers on them," she suggested, laughing harder the more she got into it.

"Oh I'm going to buy something to wear," Gordon agreed solemnly, "but it's a surprise. You'll be getting one too. But it would serve you right if I did the lederhosen. I've been reading about raising Human children. My understanding is it's a vital part of socialization for parents to play the buffoon, so their children are humiliated and shamed by being seen in public with them. Walking along with me in lederhosen should fill the bill nicely."

"I think that's only teenagers," Lee said, but looked a little worried. "I'm too young and innocent to be abused like that."

"Why don't you shower before we are weak from hunger?" Gordon suggested. "And try not to drown this morning my little stinkweed." The night before she had selected the pulsating power wash, designed to punch through the heaviest grimy Derf fur clear to the skin. It knocked her flat on her butt and left a purple water jet abrasion on her shoulder.

* * *

The corridors were crowded this morning, a whole lot more Humans about than yesterday and quite a few of them had a lost look like they didn't know where to go. It reminded Lee of a herbivore they had seen on Providence, which switched herd leaders several times a day. When that happened they milled around in confusion momentarily, not knowing where to go until one suddenly self-selected and started to lead them. They were dressed differently too, in a lot of bright colors.

Lee gave that little tug at his lower arm. That had come to be their signal she wanted to ride. Gordon dipped and she threw a leg over his neck slick as mounting a pony. They'd only done it a few thousand times. With it so crowded and everyone taller she could see a lot better up high.

The Humans in the crowd stared as he came through. They weren't tasteless enough to point, but some obviously told their companions to look, because after a word they turned. It amused Gordon until they got in a queue waiting for a lift and a young female Derf looked at him with open hostility and asked, "My gods, why are you playing the fool for them?"

"What?" Gordon asked genuinely surprised. "Why are you angry with me?"

"Carrying the kid on your neck!" she said, with heartfelt disgust. Why don't you just strap a damn saddle on?"

Gordon reached up and gently took Lee off double handed. "We've spent a lot of time in the Beyond and she's safer up there where there are dangers. She's spent hundreds of hours up there and she could see better in this crowd, but it was never done to offend. You have our apologies. Please make the acquaintance of my daughter, Lee."

"Hello lady. I'm sorry, we didn't know that would upset people," Lee offered in perfect Derf, with contrite crossed hands.

"Gods, you aren't yanking my tail, are you? Lee blushed, because a Derf tail was about three inches long and a deeply erotic zone. "Daughter?" she still questioned.

"I don't know how to say 'step-daughter' in Derf," Lee said using the English words. "Is there such an expression?"

"No," the young lady agreed."I'm a Derf major. I'm taking writing and journalism in school. In Derf, you are either a daughter, or you are not. I suppose one could say adopted daughter, but any modifier would suggest the adoption was flawed.

"I'm sorry I said anything. If you've been in the Beyond you wouldn't know. There was a video program that came out from Earth last year. It featured an Earth ambassador's family moving around to the various worlds and interacting with all the races. It portrayed all the non-Human races as animals that could talk a little, if not very well. And of course, the little boy rode Derf, as if the embassy staff didn't have any other duties, but to keep the Glorious Earth Master's children entertained. Seeing it done for real touched a nerve."

"Better you tell us than we irritate hundreds of folk and never know why," Gordon said. Then the lift opened and they moved forward, but the young Derf was left behind. Their goodbyes were abbreviated to a wave.

The restaurant was as packed as the public corridors. It would probably have been full, but Lee noticed quite a few of the Humans read the menu posted outside the entry and turned away. They would quickly find out there wasn't any place on station with Earth prices for food. They got one of the last tables, the Derf waiter directing two under servers with silent gestures, to clear away a chair and setting for Humans and fetching a floor mat and Derf size utensils. If anything the menu had even more choices than last night.

"These folks look different," Lee finally mentioned to Gordon after examining them.

"There's a cruise ship in," the waiter explained, as if that explained everything, overhearing Lee as he reset things on the table.

"These folks are almost all Earthies," Gordon explained. "They dress differently. Their accents are different. They're all rich, or they wouldn't be on a cruise. They even carry themselves differently than outlanders. See the fellow over there by the fish tank? How does he look different to you?" he asked Lee.

She considered him carefully. "Well, he's got on a shirt with buttons. I've only seen those in period movies. He doesn't have any jewelry I can see, except a little finger ring. Not even any earrings like you," she looked up at the seven rings in Gordon's right ear, one for every voyage of exploration he'd made. "His hair is too long to wear safely in a pressure suit and he just looks stiff, uncomfortable."

Gordon nodded. "The first things are mostly superficial, but the way he's sitting so stiff is important. On Earth that controlled look, with ankles together and sitting up straight, with his hands together in his lap is a mark of the upper class. The full hair is a clue too. Working people wear their hair short for safety. Poor people wear their hair short to make it easy to avoid vermin." Lee looked at Gordon closely to see if he was joking with her. Apparently not. "If he was sprawled with his knees apart and laid back with his elbow hooked over the back of the chair, it would mark him as common no matter how well dressed he was."

"And if he was Derf? How would he hold everything?" Lee asked.

"We Derf are truly classless, treating everyone in equality and fraternity," he started out, pontificating in a prim tone. Then Gordon faltered in his delivery as he needed to fend off the fork Lee was trying to jab in his side, just under the edge of the table.

With Lee safely disarmed, Gordon took a more honest tack, "But if he was a particularly well regarded Derf you might see he always kept his lower arms tucked in close in front of him. A well-bred Derf would never raise his true hands above his shoulders in polite company, unless it was truly a matter of life and death and it simply won't do to sit around with your ears flopped down all sagging, as if you are bored and don't want to hear what's going on."

Gordon demonstrated by letting his own ears droop and cocked his head with bored eyes. He looked so woebegone Lee laughed. Then he brought them back up cupped and made his voyage rings jingle, the front ring with a blue stone sparkling in the light. When he walked they never made noise. Just like a cat can learn to move with a bell around its neck and never ring it, he kept them silent.

A single Human came in and stood at the entry. He was dressed more formally than the others. He had on a suit that was muted colors and formed to his body more than the loose bright clothing of the crowd. It looked more expensive. It simply couldn't be that easy to fabricate something with so much shape to it.

He also wore a rich textured tie, that looked like it was woven of gold. A timepiece around his wrist was as anachronistic as buttons. Nobody needed one who carried a phone or computer. He was too late to get a table, but stood back, apparently willing to wait for one to go vacant.

Lee was already looking at him. "Would you like me to invite that splendid specimen to share our table and you can get a feel for dealing with a real Earth Human one at a time?" Gordon asked Lee.

"That would be fun. If I mess up, go ahead and tell me. I'm not worried about being embarrassed. We'll never see him again anyway."

Gordon gave the waiter a sign and he hurried over. "Ready to order sir?"

"Almost, but that poor fellow by the door missed the last table. If you'd drop a word in his ear, tell him he's welcome to join us at our table, if it pleases him."

He decided Lee could be trusted with the fork again.

They watched while the waiter explained to the host and the host made the offer. The gentleman looked up and to his credit only blinked twice, managing not to do a double-take, or show any great surprise at his potential hosts. He smiled and they could tell he graciously accepted even before the waiter turned to lead him over. The attentive servers had his place set before he could reach his seat.

"Do you need some time to peruse the menu sir?" the waiter asked their guest.

"No, I can see it is extensive." He didn't mention expensive. "I'll order and just get as close as you can."

"Very good, sir. What would you like young lady?" he turned and inquired.

Lee gave a little start, surprised she was asked first. "Uh, the pancakes rolled around strawberries with whipped cream, bacon, sausage, spicy hot if you have it, four eggs scrambled and a pot of hot tea."

"And you sir?" he asked Gordon.

"A Derf sized pot of coffee and brandy for it, orange juice and a fruit salad, a honeyed ham and a Derf sized serving of Potatoes O'Brien. And whatever our friend here wants, put it on our tab." The waiter nodded and regarded the Earthie.

"That's very nice of you," he said aside to Gordon before ordering, "I'd like Eggs Benedict, an assortment of toast, jams, and coffee, just black will do, thank you."

As soon as the waiter turned away the fellow spoke. "I'm Stanley McPherson. To what do I owe this exceptional kindness?"

"I'm usually addressed as just Gordon, my true name is rather too complicated. This is my step-daughter, Lee Anderson. We've been in The Back of Beyond for a couple of years and this is the first time she's seen a gaggle of Earth Humans, so it's an excellent opportunity for her to get a little socialization before we head to Earth after Derfhome."

"The Back of Beyond?" Stanley asked, but he'd smiled at the expression gaggle.

"Out past the frontier, where nobody has gone," Gordon explained. "We were almost a month running in empty. No heavy freight," he explained further to the man's blank look. "Your effective speed is inverse to your mass." That made comprehension dawn on his face.

"Ah, OK the expression makes sense now. My great grandfather back on Earth, who took our family to Australia used to write in his diary of going 'Beyond the Black Stump', that was past where the burnt trees cleared for farmland ended and it was wild and unknown. Now there's no beyond anything in Australia, it's all condos and farm factories," he said sadly. "It took us fourteen days coming out in a fast liner and this is still almost the frontier at Derf, so you had to be really far beyond civilization."

"That's what you do if you are aiming for the big find," Gordon said. "If you are just looking for a source of something like beryllium, or industrial diamonds, you want it close. If you're looking for a world, everything has been picked over close to home. You might luck out and find something around a stellar type that shouldn't have it, but chances are mighty thin.

"You see how he took his napkin and tucked it in his lap, Lee? That's the proper custom where we're going. You don't wait until you're served." she nodded and copied him.

"And the waiter quite properly asked your order first," Stanley joined in, once he understood it was a lesson. "Most any conservative Earth restaurants will follow a ladies first custom. Will you be taking the Mary Ellen to Earth?" he asked them. "It's laying over a week and that is more than sufficient for my business. Perhaps we'll be shipmates on the way back?"

"No, we need more time here and we have a find to register with the Commission. There are extensive samples and patents to catalog, it's not just a rock, so we need to go to Luna and go through the whole process," Gordon said.

"Do you have a firm to write your patents and claims?" Stanley asked.

"Why, are you an attorney?" Gordon asked.

"Not of that sort, but I know that Green, Bennett, and Glenn of New York are very well regarded by my people. If you want to tell them I referred you feel free," Stanley offered.

"We are probably going with whomever our bank recommends. But if you'd give us your card I'd be happy see what our bank thinks," Gordon said.

Stanley scribbled his recommendation on the back of the little rectangle and handed it over. On its face, Gordon read, "Moore, Harper, Goldberg, and McPherson - Brasilia, Sydney, Singapore, and London - Petitions, Entitlements, and Family Law - Authorized to practice before the World Court, Her Majesty's High Court of Justice and the Court of the Americas." It had contact info embedded. After a moment of thought, he gave one to Lee too.

"If it's none of my business I understand, but I'm really curious if you found a living world," Stanley asked. "Your story suggests it, although not positively."

"What would you do with the information if I confirm it?" Gordon asked. Lee looked really interested in this exchange.

"Oh, I'd use it. I have clients who should be advised. Such a discovery always creates a movement in stocks and in futures. I'd call my broker and change some of my own holdings as well. I don't have an interest in your venture, so it wouldn't be insider trading to anticipate broad market moves."

"I believe I'd like to retain your firm in our service, Mr. McPherson." Gordon pinched his wallet open on his belt and pulled out a debit card. "What is your retainer?"

"Normally a million EM," Stanley explained, "but I see what you're aiming to do. Call it a thousand euromarks with the hospitality of breakfast and I'll be happy. And it's Stanley. Mr. McPherson still sounds like my father." He held out his compact computer and Gordon swiped across the optical port.

"As our attorney, I'd like you to consider this as a privileged communication," Gordon said first. "We found an extremely valuable world with a huge complex biosphere. It's honestly a shirtsleeves environment in many places and has much potential for food plants and settlement. We haven't even scratched the surface in many ways. We've made no survey to speak of in the oceans for example. We're going to our bank this afternoon to reveal our find and give them the good news that we'll be dealing with them from a much better position now."

Their food started arriving and Gordon's ham was set down on a huge platter. It was the whole ham, shiny with honey glaze, and scored deeply through the fat in the traditional diamonds, studded with cloves and surrounded by a halo of fresh pineapple and kiwis. Stanley looked a bit askance at the huge thing.

"Marvelous. And you must be a very senior partner to be authorized as Spox to release word of this and be dealing with the bank. Are you going to hold a news conference?" Stanley asked.

"Lee is the senior partner. She has twice the interest I do. I can't think of any reason I'd hold a news conference," Gordon said. "When we file the Claims Commission or Cataloging Society will do that. It's not like we need to advertise to attract settlers or investors, like some airless world or hellhole with a toxic atmosphere. They'll be turning down four or five for every bid they accept. I suppose it's good news for the bank to be getting a big chunk of business. So if they wish to release something that's up to them to decide."

"Is your whole crew going to Earth then?" Stanley asked. "Because usually, when the spacers hit the bars on the first populated world and start celebrating, it hits the news after a few drinks and somebody blabs the whole story."

"You're looking at the whole crew," Gordon informed him.

Stanley looked back and forth between Lee and Gordon like it might be a joke. Then he indicated the bottle of brandy Gordon ordered. "Would you be a good fellow and give me a dash of that?" His coffee cup was about half empty and Gordon filled it right up with good brandy. The look on his face suggested more than a small taste and indeed, he sucked down most of it in a few long sips.

"I've never had the acquaintance of your sort of people before," Stanley said, awed.

"You never met Derf before?" Lee asked. "Is this your first trip here?"

"No, no, I've met Derf," Stanley assured her. "I'm here to settle an estate for a Derf client who lived on Earth. Fantastic gentleman and his passing was very sad. I'll miss him. No, I meant I've never been in the presence of your kind of money. I'd be a bit scared if I didn't already see how pleasant you are. Wealth on this scale has a quality and power all its own, that transcends race, or gender, or politics." He stopped, aware from their faces that they were amused. "You'll see," he predicted, wagging a stern finger at them, "you'll have a devil of a time getting the truth out of people and you'll need protection from every con and huckster and schemer, or worse."

"We haven't presented our ticket and received the prize so to speak, Stanley," Gordon said. "We know it's coming, but it will take a while before the actual payments start rolling in. But no matter how much money you have your belly only holds so much.

"Dig in and enjoy. When we get up from the table, your belly can be just as full as mine. So what real difference is there if I have a few bookkeeping entries somewhere that are bigger? All that wealth is an abstraction until you turn it into something you can hold in your hand. It might all disappear tomorrow and what can a mortal do? Try a little of this ham.

"Now this is real," he observed, slicing it generously, and served Stanley with his own hand before the dismayed waiter could motion one of his underlings to do it.

Chapter 5

Walking along the corridor after breakfast Lee had a million questions for Gordon. "Why did you hire Mr. McPherson, when he isn't the kind of lawyer we'd need?"

"Oh, that was just a formality. He understood. Once we hire him the ethics of his profession make him treat us a lot differently, he's obligated to watch out for our interests. One way is to safeguard our financial interest, that's called a fiduciary duty. Remember that and look it up, I'll ask you about it tomorrow."

Lee silently repeated the word to herself, fixing it in her memory.

"He can't use the information about our claim in any way that would harm us now. Even if a policeman asked him about us, he could refuse to say anything because of our relationship. I wish I could retain every lawyer in the known universe," Gordon said. "I'm wondering if he understood his usual retainer would have wiped our debit card account just now? We're rich, but we're rich in the abstract. When you're broke it always seems to be in cash."

"But if we needed a lawyer I could call him now?" Lee asked.

"Yes, but if it wasn't his area of law he'd just get somebody else to help you and charge you for doing it. Not that it might not be worth it, if he knows who to get, and you have no idea. We'll see what the bank says about this firm he recommended," Gordon said.

Gordon had his head tucked down, with little wrinkles just behind his nose. The look she knew meant he was thinking really hard about something.

"What you thinking about so hard?" Lee asked at the look.

"I'm trying to think how to tell you, not to be as open as I was with the lawyer. Maybe I set a bad example by letting you see me do that. We're under Derf law here and I knew how to tangle the man in professional obligation, but Earth and Earth laws are different, very different. We could be a target of people who would do anything to get a chunk of our wealth," Gordon warned.

"We can hire some security can't we?" Lee asked. "And all the places like hotels will have their own too."

"Yes, but I'm not thinking physical security, like being safe from robbers," Gordon explained. "Now, I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but you haven't been around people much except family. You're used to trusting people and you like to chat.

"A little girl your age who grew up around thousands of other people every day would be much warier. I'm going to give you a couple of plays to read about Human nature and people being underhanded and treacherous. Not that Derf can't be treacherous too! We'll talk about them after you've read them. Shakespeare has some stories that are dandy, and a few crime novels, something about confidence men.

"You need to understand how people ask a series of questions that seem innocent," he said, making a repeating gesture with his hands. "Until they ask one that seems a natural progression of the conversation, but you'd never have answered it if they'd just blurted it out first thing. You've never experienced being manipulated by devious people."

Lee nodded, eyebrows bunched up, really taking it to heart.

"It's the sort of thing most parents don't even sit down and teach their children," Gordon said. "They absorb it dealing with other kids. They are all schooled together in a mob dealing with each other and teachers. Most kids are exposed to sneaky behavior early-on, when they are in a semi-protected environment. If they lose their lunch money to creeps and bullies learning about that sort of behavior, it's a cheap lesson. By the time they are adults who can form a contract, they are prepared for used ground-car salesmen and distant relatives with investment schemes.

"But when we go to Earth you need to know you can't tell people anything they ask, just to be polite. You're going to have to learn to be reserved very fast. For example, you think of security as working for us and friendly. But if we had problems with our hotel bill, or with some stranger out on the street, a policeman might not be on our side at all. And it might not be obvious. If there was trouble and afterward the police asked you questions about it, what would you do?"

"Well, try to answer them as honestly as possible. I'm not going to do anything criminal, so I don't have anything to hide. The more they know, the more it will be obvious I'm innocent."

"That's what I was afraid of. That's dead wrong. Don't do it," Gordon said, dead serious.

"Really? But, why?" Lee asked, incredulous.

"When you talk to the police, anything you say can be used against you. They used to have to tell you that when they arrested you. But they can ask you questions, as if they're trying to get information on the other guy and then trick you and use it against you," Gordon told her.

"Well that's just, wrong," Lee protested.

"Uh-huh. And they might take you aside and two of them ask you questions. One will act friendly and the other make a big show of being angry and unreasonable. Pretty soon the one acting friendly asks a question and it seems like he's helping you over the other one, so you just want to answer. It's so common they have a name for it, Good Cop / Bad Cop, or some call it a Mutt and Jeff. Your people were probably doing that before they were building pyramids.

"They might lie and say, "Your uncle, Gordon, already told us all about it and we just need you to confirm it, to let both of you go." They have all sorts of tricks without really threatening you. Even stupid little things like refusing to let you go use a bathroom until you tell them what they want. You'd be surprised how many city folk, who have never been in the wild country and never had to pee behind a bush, will do just anything to get to a proper toilet like they are used to using."

"So what am I supposed to do?" Lee asked.

"Don't say anything, call their bluff and pee in their chair. Nobody ever died from sitting in wet panties," Gordon said, amused. "They asked for it after all and it will bother them worse than you. That's the one bright spot of Earth law. They can't demand you answer. They might bluff, thinking this little girl from out in the boondocks can't know Earth law, but you can ask for a lawyer and firmly refuse to talk to them. They have to respect that and get you one. Earth law is so crazy and complex, that's the only smart thing to do if you have any contact with police.

"Let me tell you how crazy it is. If they suspect you of a crime and you go ahead and talk with them, they may find out you didn't do anything. You'd think if the original accusation didn't pan out, you'd be clear with them wouldn't you?"

"Sure, I'd expect them to let me go," Lee agreed.

"They should. But what can happen is, if they have political reasons to want you in jail, or if they just don't want their office to look bad for arresting you, they may have questioned you without any recording. Now you may be clear of the crime, but they can say from their notes, or just from memory, that you answered something they asked with a lie. Just lying to an officer, even if it didn't affect the outcome of their investigation or harm anyone is a crime. And if it's your word against the police, the judges and the police are on the same team and they'll believe the cops every time. So, they got you," Gordon said.

"You're starting to scare me, Uncle Gordon."

"Good. You should remember it then. If you just thought I was being ridiculous and things like that don't happen in the real world, you wouldn't learn anything from it at all."

"I wouldn't do that," Lee protested. "I'm sure you know a whole lot more than I do. I'll think on it a lot, and ask other questions if I can think of them. One other I remember from talking to the lawyer, why did you mention we need to go to Luna? I thought we'd go all the way to Earth. I was looking forward to it. Now you mentioned Earth again. Are they so close you think of them as the same? Because they're not to me. I want to go down to the big world and see some things. It's like you said for here at Derfhome; who knows when we'll get back again?"

"I was being too picky precise. We certainly will go down to North America and some other places if you want," Gordon agreed. "It's true, Earth and Luna are so close I do think of them as the same 'place'. We just can't take the ship in any further than Luna. Certainly not orbit like here at Derfhome."

"Why not?" Lee asked.

Gordon seemed uncomfortable and didn't answer for a while. "You know how badly the first meeting of Humans and Derf went?"

"Yes, I was listening when you told the story. The shuttle crew were idiots," Lee said.

"Well, what if they weren't?" Gordon asked. "You were saying almost anything that can happen will - eventually. What if there is an alien contact someday and they are just evil murderous people, who kill without thought, so we can't talk or trade at all? Not just a misunderstanding that can be corrected. What if they are like the dinos that overran us, but smarter?"

"We'd be in big trouble if we found anything like that," Lee said.

"All of us. Not just the ship that found them, all the worlds too," Gordon expanded the idea.

"OK." Lee agreed. She could see that.

"So, our ship has some weapons you never needed to know about, so we never talked about them. You can key in a code and the control consoles become weapons boards too. Just in case we find someone that can't be talked to and aren't safe to run from. There are three very short range, fail fused missiles with nukes, in the belly of the High Hopes.

"The idea is to keep us from being boarded and revealing information about our civilization, but they are designed to be pretty useless to commit aggression, especially against a world. Still, they don't want a civilian ship with that kind of stuff inside lunar orbit, even if it is short-range.

"They keep talking about making them stop and orbit out at Mars, but it's never gotten passed. It's not a bad idea if you ask me. The Moon is too close if somebody really wanted to hit Earth."

"Is there anything else I don't know about on the ship?" Lee asked, suspiciously.

Gordon thought for a moment, carefully. "Our radar is special, not just a search radar. It has a Veslago lens built over each element of the array and we can steer the beam and focus the whole multi-petawatt output down to a very small spot. Down to about a wavelength size dot, out to an ungodly distance. Not as effective as real military beam weapons, but damn near.

"I think chances of needing any of it are slim, but when the Humans met the first sentient race in their expansion it freaked them out; there were riots on Earth and all sorts of irrational reactions. That despite the fact the Hinth practically bowed down and worshipped them. They passed legislation making it a law, that ships exploring the Beyond go armed.

"I don't think it would mean anything if we stumbled on a really advanced race's homeworld. It's for the much likelier event of meeting another ship, or a frontier outpost, of such an unfriendly civilization. I had an Earthie hint to me once that if a hostile race does take a ship, then hopefully they'll think all we have are simple nukes and low-end beam weapons and they'd get a rude shock when they run into a real fighting ship.

"They give us just enough to keep from being boarded, but not enough to be aggressors, if we find a civilization a little behind us. We couldn't use them for planetary bombardment for example. If the beam and missiles don't work, we have the option to set off a nuke without launching it, rather than be captured. That would be sufficient to carry in my opinion."

"I don't know if I could do that," Lee told Gordon, in a suddenly small voice.

"I wasn't planning on asking you," he admitted. They walked along, silent for a while.

"Here's what we need," Gordon said laying a lower arm on her shoulders and steering her in a tiny shop. There were a number of hazard symbols on the door and a notice: No sparks - No flames -- combustible gases and oxidizers present. Above it said, John W. Holden - Goldsmith - Custom Jewelry and Precious Stones - Specialists to the Space Trade.

Inside was a showcase down one side and a workbench on the other. A low swinging gate separated the way into the back between them. The jeweler was not only Human; there wasn't room behind the counters for a Derf. Lee was fascinated at the rows of tools and fixtures, almost all of them unpowered, pliers, hammers, even manual saws. There was a bench for Gordon, which was unusual instead of just a mat. He sat facing the showcase instead of the workbench. The jeweler wiped his hands and walked around the end to the selling side.

"Can I get you coffee or something?" the artisan offered.

"No thanks, we just finished breakfast. I know what we need," Gordon said, "so it won't take long. I need three plain voyage rings for the girl and we each need a ring with a gem."

"Indeed," the fellow seemingly agreed, checking out the line of rings in Gordon's ear. "The girl has really been there?" he asked skeptically.

"She has. Her mother just never wanted her ears pierced when she was little. If you want to check, I'm known as Gordon, of the Red Tree clan, New Master of the High Hopes out of Luna." He didn't seem offended at the man needing confirmation.

The man checked something on the computer and squinted a bit. "I show that hull to Jack and Myrtle Anderson, with you as third and a minor unnamed."

"This is Lee Anderson. Jack and Myrtle are dead and she's my daughter now. It's not in the registry yet, because we're on our way in and have only been on station two days."

"I believe you," the smith said with a little apologetic tone. "Nobody would make up such a story with rings in his ears. Would you like me to pierce your ear, Missy, or do you have somebody to do it?"

"What should I do, Uncle Gordon?"

"Well, the smith would use a laser against a graphite block. In our clan however the custom for ear piercing has been" - he held up a single four-inch claw that he'd sharpened especially for the occasion that morning, in the privacy of the bathroom.

"I think there's something to be said for tradition," Lee said, far less afraid of his claws, than a strange jeweler.

"Here, let me get you a wooden block and a sani-wipe." The jeweler fetched them and a little plastic fixture through which he marked four ink dots on her ear. He handed the block to Gordon and wiped the claw with the antiseptic after checking it with his thumb for sharpness. "Damn, that's a real set of gut rippers you got there, boy."

Each time he pushed the pressure built up to a certain point and then the claw popped through the cartilage. Lee jumped a little the first time and said, "It made a funny noise when it went through." She didn't cry out, or even jump for the next three.

"Rings to match what ya got?" the man asked Gordon.

"Yes, but four of them for her, fourteen-millimeter hoop, twenty-two karat yellow gold, forged flat with an open tension catch in the back. No need to hallmark 'em unless you already have."

"If I might suggest, a straight row of the same size looks good in your ear," he told Gordon. "For you, Missy, I'd start small in the front, ten-millimeter maybe and go up two millimeters in size each one as they climb up the back of the ear. It looks like a billion bucks graduated like that. If you don't want to add on the back you can inter-space new ones in half sizes."

"That sounds nice," Lee agreed. "That wouldn't offend any tradition, Uncle Gordon?"

"Nah. Some people wear hoops, some people wear studs. Only thing is, spacers don't wear gems, not unless they have the bragging rights. You do and get caught, you get shunned. You can't get a berth in a ship and nobody will drink with you."

"Oh yeah," That reminded the craftsman. "What color for the gem?"

"Green," Gordon told him with a big grin.

"Holy shit," the fellow breathed, big-eyed and hurried to get them.

* * *

"Tourmaline is nice, but the Emerald is really beautiful. The prices kind of scared me though. Can we afford that before we go to the bank this afternoon?" Lee asked.

"If I may," the jeweler interrupted before Gordon could reassure her. "Your credit is fine here. You wear what you want out the door and you can pay me at your pleasure. I keep Tourmaline and Peridot and crap for the grounders. I don't want one of my customers wearing a Greenie and somebody saying it looks cheap."

"Thank you, your trust is appreciated. We're OK though," Gordon told him.

"Hey, it isn't anything your bank wouldn't do. They just have to look over everything from your school grades to your genotype, to know if they trust you. I meet a guy who can come in from the Beyond sole survivor and adopts his partner's kid, I know him well enough."

"Thank you then," Lee agreed. "I'd like the traditional cut emerald, the two-carat one there, that seems plenty big. You are so much bigger, I think you should get something larger don't you Unc'?"

"No, I'd like an emerald too," Gordon said, "but as close a match as for size and cut he has to my Sapphire, so they can both hang on the front ring." The smith nodded approval and went back to the workbench to fabricate it.

"What does blue mean? If green is something special, blue must be too." Lee asked.

"Blue is a water world. That's still a really significant discovery. I won that ring on a trip before I met your folks," Gordon told her. "But it was a dead world, just rocks and oceans. Water is valuable and the world might be terraformed someday, but green is really special, there were only ten crews who can wear one. Two can wear doubles and one impossibly lucky group of four spacers can wear triples. Green is a living world."

Chapter 6

"Are we going shopping or to the bank now?"

"Not quite yet, Lee. There's a certain ceremony to follow first." Gordon told her. They went up several decks and the gravity got less and the neighborhood got seedier. Eventually, there were cargo carts sharing the corridor with pedestrians. The overheads were open, with pipes and conduits and the smell of oil and plastic polluted the air. There were no tourists to be seen. Several people looked at Lee and Gordon together, like you'd look at a dog in church. They came to two spacer bars and Gordon hesitated, picking the one that if anything seemed seedier.

The bartender was Derf, standing before tiers of bottles, under a huge mirror and there were two Humans at the bar. Both had rings in their ears. At the end was something Lee had never seen, except in books, a Hinth, very bird-like, and the first sapient she'd seen that wasn't a Human or Derf. He was sitting as far as he could from the Humans.

"Don't look at the Hinth directly," Gordon warned her. "He knows you don't mean anything by it, but he's hard-wired to resent the hell out of it as a challenge. He already doesn't like Derf, so I'll avoid looking at all, but if you want to look at him, look through your fingers for a screen. It may seem silly to you, but it's a great kindness to him and he'll take it for politeness."

"What will you have," the bartender asked, "and is this going to be trouble for me?" he asked, indicating Lee.

"I'm her guardian, so no, no trouble," Gordon promised. "She normally wouldn't drink anything by her culture, I'm sure you know, but we have a service to perform. Just give her a half shot and we need something for her to eat so it isn't on an empty stomach."

"We have a corned beef sandwich out of a tin. Bread is local and it ain't half bad."

"Just one for her and whiskey neat, if that's real Earth whiskey up there?" Gordon asked.

"In this place?" He seemed amused. "The bottle says that's what it is. I wouldn't trust it."

"Place next door any better?" Gordon inquired.

"Same guy owns them both. Same kitchen in the back services both. We don't make a lot of money on food. But there are different regulars in each place, who don't care for the other's company. It works better this way," the bartender assured him.

"And yet the Hinth is over here?" Gordon asked. It seemed unlikely.

"Shit, he doesn't like anybody, on either side. The vodka is an honest drink if you like. It shouldn't have any nasty crap in it."

"One for her," he said, making a slash with his hand like you'd tell an auctioneer you were bidding a half increment, "a Derf shot for me and whatever they're drinking," he jerked his head toward the others down the bar.

"Hinth too?" the bartender asked.

"Hell yeah, he'd probably wear rings, if he had ears to hang them," Gordon said.

"Some of them do, on a chain around their neck," the bartender told them. He hadn't really looked at them until he said that, then he looked at Gordon harder. It was dark in the bar, but from two feet away he couldn't miss the glint of blue and green. Then he checked Lee and his manner changed.

"You're celebrating a Greenie? Then what do you mean a service?"

"We're the survivors," Gordon said simply.

The bartender actually wiped the bar in front of them, a futile gesture, but still a kindness. When Lee's sandwich came he didn't have anything but cocktail napkins, but he arranged them as best he could for her.

Lee leaned close and quietly asked Gordon, "What does ‘neat’ mean for whiskey?"

"It means just plain, Lee. Some people mix it with ice or sweet stuff. Neat works better for toasts."

"If the Hinth get so upset from anyone looking at them, how did they ever build a civilization? How do they get together and, you know, do stuff without everybody being upset all the time?" Lee asked.

"Outside a close family group, they wear a veil or a mask. People who go to Hin usually take up wearing one too. I understand once you know the code a Hinth's mask tells you gender and Clan and how big a deal he is in his business," Gordon said.

"That seems silly and unnatural to me," Lee scowled.

"Really?" Gordon lifted an eyebrow at her, a Human gesture he'd perfected. "I always felt the same way about Earth Humans wearing pants. Tell you what. Drop your trousers off and walk around the station today with your bare behind hanging out in the breeze and see if it feels less silly and more natural."

"You’ve got fur!" Lee said indignantly and then sat and thought about it a bit. "I was narrow-minded and prejudiced, Unc," she admitted after a bit. "I'm sorry."

"It's nothing," Gordon said tweaking her ear playfully, "You're still learning loads."

It was a big sandwich, on grilled bread, shiny with grease, which was just fine with Gordon. She finished half of it with the help of some mustard. Gordon popped the rest in his mouth whole.

The barkeep poured for the Hinth, who didn't acknowledge it, back to them and himself, a half shot of clear fluid in front of Lee. Gordon's shot was four ounces.

"To discovery, we had a find this trip," Gordon announced, held the glass up in salute, and downed it. Lee followed suit.

Down the bar, the one drunk said, "Discovery", and downed it. The other said, "Show 'em the money!" and downed his. The Hinth simply tossed it back, silent.

Lee didn't say anything, but blew out through pursed lips. The barkeep filled them up. She leaned over and whispered to Gordon, "The drunks are enjoying our find, vicariously." Her voice was rough from the liquor.

"That's one," he whispered back.

"To lost comrades," Gordon said aloud, next round, "my man Jack."

"To Dad," Lee said, and the barkeeper looked shocked.

Down the bar, the Hinth looked straight at them rudely and hissed. His crest stood up and flared, displaying colors they didn't know he had. "I, Ha-bob-bob-brie, share your mourning little Human," he said in passable English. "I too, know what it is to lose family and shipmates."

Gordon and the bartender were frozen in shock, but Lee put her chin in her palm, looking at him through spread fingers and said, "Thank you, Ha-bob-bob-brie, Lee Anderson thanks you. I mourn that you have suffered such loss too," and she bobbed her head in almost a little bow.

The Hinth made a gesture palm down and tried awkwardly to imitate Lee's bow. "No need to cloak your face among those who know your name, Lee Anderson." That seemed to satisfy him and he looked back down at his glass, almost embarrassed.

"Was that passable manners?" Gordon asked the bartender, worried about offense.

"Damned if I know," The bartender admitted. "He seems happy with her, which is a first too. That's more than he has said sitting there the last two years. I didn't even know he spoke Standard. I was told Hinth don't share their name with anybody, so I guess she really hit a nerve to pull such a speech out of him."

Next round the barkeeper barely tipped any in Lee's glass, looking concerned. He'd seen a round of salutes to fallen friends go sixteen rounds and he didn't know how many Gordon intended. It took some time to walk down to the Hinth and get a round set up.

"To lost crewmates," Gordon said, "my lady Myrtle." Then he looked around and there wasn't any place safe to throw the glass so he dropped it on the floor and stomped on it. The Hinth didn't look up or say anything. Apparently, he'd gotten it all out of his system.

They missed Lee's tearful salute and that she muttered a bad word she hardly ever thought, much less used. She slipped the glass in her pocket.

"Give me your broom and I'll clean up," Gordon offered.

"Get outta here. I pay the rummy to do that."

Gordon pushed a five hundred euromark note across the counter and the barkeeper pushed it back. "We're not so low yet that we take money for a service."

"The owner might not feel that way," Gordon pointed out.

"Yeah, well, guess I forgot to mention that's me. I might have taken it if you'd hit me shift-change on station payday, with the place packed," he winked.

Lee was having a little trouble. She had a hand over her mouth and looked a little spacey. Suddenly she pushed back from the bar unsteady and let out a little moan, distressed.

"Turn left in the kitchen," the bartender pointed. "Hurry," he urged her. She took off urgently.

"Damnedest thing I ever did see," he told Gordon, amazed, "for a dainty little Earth girl like that to make port, hang her rings, drink to her comrades, make the Hinth talk and puke her guts out. I'd have never believed such a story and a Greenie no less."

* * *

The broth was helping Lee visibly. She took little sips on the spoon and an occasional bite of salty cracker. The coffee shop was back down several decks, in a lot nicer area than the bar. At her age, she recovered fast and she'd lost the vile stuff before she could really absorb that much. The corned beef was so greasy it might have come up all on its own. She still had the shot glass in a pocket and had forgotten about it. Her mother wouldn't have been impressed with it as a keepsake.

"Let's go shopping now, Uncle Gordon."

"You sure? You don't want to sit for a while?" he offered Lee.

"Nah, I'm good. Let's find something to wear before we run out of time."

"OK," Gordon said and chugged the rest of the bowl himself. It was Derf sized, so Lee hadn't made much of a dent in three liters.

"I think I understand that ceremony now," Lee told him as they walked along.

"Really? I'm not sure I understand it myself," Gordon admitted. "So what's your take on it?"

"You survive and feel guilty for it and it made you rich so you feel even worse, 'cause the money is not worth the ones you lost. Then you feel so sad about it you don't think you can ever get over it and you think you should just die," Lee said. "But you sit there and drink that stuff and pretty soon you realize you can feel worse and you get to where you really do want to die on the spot. Then you are on your knees in a filthy bar crapper, puking in a Derf size commode. If you can get past that, just the normal mourning is something you can deal with."

"I think you're wise beyond your years, Lee."

Chapter 7

They ducked into a small store that sold medical supplies and sundries. Lee needed a comb, and they both needed paper hankies and wet wipes. Gordon made Lee buy sheer shrink gloves. Most people wore them in public areas to avoid disease and they were cheap and almost comfortable enough to forget they were there, being ultra-thin and breathable. They bought disposable spex with prepaid com access, that would work below as well as on station.

Gordon put his spex away, but Lee wore hers set clear, the same as quite a few people in the corridors choose to. Gordon got some cinnamon breath mints and Lee felt better with a couple of food bars in her pocket in case they delayed a meal sometime. Gordon swore they'd outfit more below.

No retailer on the hab carried precut children's clothing. There simply wasn't enough retail traffic in her age bracket to tie up the shelf space or stock it. That left the option of custom cut, which was fine as long as it was robotic sewn, so she could wear it today. Neither Lee nor Gordon had any idea what current fashions were like for children, but the suggestions from the sales staff seemed silly and unlikely. They ended up with more adult looking clothing instead of cute. They bought six outfits to carry them over until they could find more.

"We'll get you some more things when we get to Earth," Gordon promised. She'd refused all skirts, but loved the sturdier cut of a kilt when shown one and accepted a couple of them with hose and accessories. She drew the line at the formal shoes though. Other things better reflected her idea of what to wear on a planet. Canvas cargo pants and a safari jacket looked practical to her.

The outfit Lee wore for the banker didn't look quite so 'bushy' - black wool slacks with a leather belt, white silk blouse with a collar, and a gray cardigan with silver buttons and pockets. Soft fake suede over-the-ankle boots and a gray beret to match the sweater completed the outfit. They had to make the boots twice, because the program wasn't set to allow for socks. It all looked very nice, but not very girlish. The rest of the clothing went to their hotel room by courier when they left for the bank.

Lee looked a lot better now. She'd looked a bit rumpled when she came in from the service. The clothier's restroom gave her the opportunity to wash her face and make herself presentable before they went to the bank.

"Why did you say the Hinth didn't like Derf?" Lee asked back out in the corridor. "You don't know other Hinth, do you? I mean, can you even tell them apart?"

"No, I've never known any Hinth until this one," Gordon said. "But I haven't heard of one yet that didn't hate our guts."

"Why? They were on just one world like Derf, right? So few Hinth or Derf travel around in Human space, they must hardly ever see each other," Lee reasoned. "Was there some big conflict that they hold a grudge?"

"Remember how Commander Richards made an agreement with the Derf that they were to be treated as equals in every way?" Gordon asked Lee.

"Yeah."

"Well the Hinth didn't get as good a deal," Gordon said. "They had some legends about sky gods and when Earthies showed up they fell all over themselves giving the store away. Their priests more or less said - 'Tell us what to do Oh Great Sky Gods.' Well, the Earthies didn't have to be begged too hard to do just that. Their whole world now is a protectorate. What that means is they have a Human governor appointed, who can veto anything their Emperor decides with no appeal.

"They make a big fuss about what independence they do have and to read their news you'd think they discovered the Humans instead of the other way around. But they can't stop their internal bickering long enough to right the situation and demand their sovereignty back.

"They are described by the exo-sociologists as childish and delusional, because they pretty much have to profess belief in the creation legends and fatalism that their racial religion puts forth in their public life. It isn't anything that's much different from what a Human Baptist or Sunni is technically supposed to believe, but they have the sort of controlling society where they have to constantly make public pledges of belief in fate and predestination, to get or keep a job, have a mate offered, or get licensed to reproduce.

"Belief in predestination doesn't go well with using spaceships. I mean - if you really believe it - then it doesn't matter what the service intervals are - it's going to crash when it's fated. But Humans don't ask their own service techs if they have screwy beliefs before they will train them to service transluminal drives. I can find Muslims and Baptists who are service techs with no problem. Humans have an amazing ability to compartmentalize their private and public beliefs, yet they don't grant others can. It's a form of discrimination really."

"So, do they have any kind of a program going to change that?" Lee asked.

"Huh! And lose control of a whole world and admit another race to compete with the others in the markets? Dream on. Official word is that if the Hinth decide to change from within that is fine, but Humans forcing it on them would be cultural genocide. So if some Hinth college professor publishes his class schedule and doesn't tack on, 'Gods willing,' and refuses to edit it, he finds himself with no job, his wife has gone home to her parents and the city takes his house back by the time he goes home for supper. One person rebelling here and there can't change a whole world. They'd have to form a huge conspiracy to take the system down."

"What would happen to your college professor then Gordon?"

"He could get a cup out of the trash and sit in the train station begging for a living. Or publicly recant his error and yank a bunch of his tail feathers out to show he means it. Custom is to staple a few of them to his letter of apology. Then they might give him a job scrubbing floors, or trimming bushes at his old college, or he can go way up on a high building and jump, being flightless. He could go off-world and reject his society, but the Human overlords have to pass on all the Hinth who get an interstellar passport, and they only issue a few hundred a year. They tend to give them to businessmen who will buy stuff, not dissidents."

"None of that sounds like the fault of the Derf," Lee argued.

"No, but they welcomed Man like gods and got treated like crap. We put the axe to them and then we are the only race legally entitled to be treated as full equals," Gordon said. "It doesn't seem fair to them. Derfhome is the only world where Humans are required to follow the local law. They have an agricultural society, so they had a lot more population. They had big cities and a lot more of an economy. So they figure they are more advanced socially than Derf with territorial tribalism and it grates. They don't count it for anything Derf had better science and personal freedoms. No way can I count their attitude with us as anything but plain old jealousy."

"I didn't realize none of the other races were counted legal equals," Lee said. "Of course I'd never seen another one of them until today. You have to tell me more about them in my lessons before we get to Earth."

"You won't get to see the Elves or the Beavers unless you go to their worlds," Gordon said, using the slang names for the other two races. "Very few have ever gone to Earth and they don't travel around to other places. We'll play the tourist but you do need your lessons still. There's so much to show you, but I want our claims to be filed too. Just because we have time to file doesn't mean we should take it all. If I had the winning lotto ticket I wouldn't wait a year less a day to cash it either. Something might happen."

Chapter 8

The Discount Bank of Jerusalem and Credit Suisse - Ganymede at Derfhome, said the carved and gilded letters in the facade.

"Mr. Gordon and Miss Anderson," Uncle Gordon told the Human receptionist. There were couches, but he didn't sit or tell Lee to sit. They were on time so he expected to be shown in.

"Mr. Christopher is tied up on a call," the young man informed him. "Have a seat please and I'll call you when he's free."

"We've always dealt with Glen Sherman. Is he on holiday or something?" Gordon asked. "We'll be around for a couple of weeks if you need to reschedule. I'd rather discuss some of our issues with him."

"Mr. Sherman is retired. The bank has a mandatory retirement age of seventy and he was pensioned a few months ago. We had a rather nice party for him, with cake and they gave him a gold ring engraved with the company crest.

Gordon gave a little cough that was his natural chuckle. "I've just hit seventy, I guess you'd have to pension me off, even if I'm barely hitting middle age."

The receptionist got that smiling, crinkled-eyed look, like he was going to crack a joke, then visibly restrained himself, looking over his shoulder like he was afraid somebody would overhear him. "Perhaps you could ask Mr. Christopher about that. It should be interesting." Both of them got the sudden feeling the fellow wasn't all that close with his new boss.

Fifteen minutes slowly turned into thirty and Gordon was getting upset, although it took someone as familiar with him as Lee to be able to discern it. Instead of getting fidgety, he was turning into a statue. When he stopped blinking it would be time to defuse the situation. About the time Lee figured he'd ask to reschedule, the receptionist got a call on his com and escorted them in. Gordon's good mood was definitely dinged, if not gone.

Mr. Christopher was seated behind a clean desk. There was a single open file of hard copy on top and a few pages spread out.

"Mr. Gordon, Miss Lee I assume. I've been reading your company file with the bank. Where are Mr. and Mrs. Anderson? I'm surprised they're not here themselves."

"Lee's parents are dead by misadventure on our last exploration," Gordon said, bluntly. He was past wasting any friendliness on this fellow. "You'll be able to get the details on public com when they release the report, but we've only been in two days. We are the survivors and I am here at Derfhome to go through the formality of adopting Lee as my daughter, with my clan on planet. So I can speak for her too under Derf law, with her acquiescence. Did Jack and Myrtle have copies of their will in your documents, to tell you what would happen in the event of their death? If not I have electronic copies with me."

"No, that won't be necessary. I have them right here. They seem quite short, so let me just skim them quickly, and we can talk." Christopher said, throwing a halting hand up, palm to Gordon's face to forestall him from speaking when he looked to continue.

He shuffled back through the documents and pulled two sheets out. He didn't offer them any refreshment, any more than he'd asked them to be seated, Gordon had simply sat without invitation and Lee had followed his example.

"Yes," the banker said after a few minutes. "You are correct. Miss Lee is their heir and you are the senior surviving partner, although technically the junior by stake. So all the royalty payments on your patents will continue as before and the bank will, of course, take their five percent. There is no need for any action or paperwork on those matters, except a note in the files."

There was also no expression of regret or condolences to their daughter, or sign the man had any more personality than the corporate paperweight on his desk.

"In a way that makes what I am required to tell you somewhat easier. Mr. Sherman, with who you dealt before, retired. When he retired the Exploration Funding Department ceased to exist also, as I have been urging for some time. My position with the Bank is writing business financing and since they are superficially similar, I was given the additional duty of closing out these accounts as the vessels come back in and contact us.

"Frankly, I found the funding of exploration indefensible for a bank. He might as well have funded someone to take it to a casino and lay it on the roulette table. The exploration department never had the return of other lending lines and even had occasional years of losses. So my primary thrust is to recover what assets are recoverable and write off the losses where they are not, so we can close the books out on the adventure."

"We had six years remaining on our agreement." Gordon pointed out.

"Yes, but the bank has the option of terminating the contract with cause," Christopher pointed out. "Certainly the loss of the principal signatories of the loan, and their expertise for the partnership might be sufficient to do so if we took it to arbitration. You have two-hundred twenty-seven million euromark left in your draw account. But from what I see on your account history sheet, it takes a good fraction of that to outfit and fuel up for another three or four-year trip, besides finding new partners or employees to expand your team back to a workable size for your ship.

"Your situation is only slightly better due to having paid off your vessel loan. Most exploration companies are carrying that debt too. If you insist on using up the draft already pledged, by issuing new vouchers, then at the end of six years with no significant claims or patents you will owe it and the previous draws as a balloon. I'm concerned you may not be able to pay the balloon, even if we refinance and allow you terms to do so. In fact, you might be so far in arrears even the sale of your ship won't cover your debt by that time, because central banks on Earth have been pushing the interest rates up steadily."

"OK, I can see it from your viewpoint. But what did you expect us to do? Sell our ship to cover our draw and be planet-bound? We wouldn't do that when we might force the matter and hold you to the contract. What exactly are you proposing?"

"But Uncle Gordon, this doesn't make any sense to me," Lee said. Gordon held up a true hand and cut her off, turning his head to her.

"Let your uncle Gordon take care of it and I'll answer your questions later," he told her and gave her a big wink on the side Christopher couldn't see.

"OK," Lee agreed, suddenly starting to clue up.

"I understand you people have an obsession with chasing the big find," Mr. Christopher said. "That was part of why Glen Sherman kept the department going so long. He was an explorer as a young man and followed that dream himself. However, the senior management at the bank took emotional attachment as financial expertise, for too many years."

"You mean he was reliving the thrill of exploration vicariously, through us?" Lee asked him.

"Why, yes. That's very perceptive for your age Miss Anderson. I'd say that's fairly put. So, I know you'd like to force our hand on the terms of the contract, to go out "one more time", as they always say. However, in consideration of the fact you might win such a demand in arbitration, I'm prepared to offer you some very good terms to wrap it up now." Christopher shuffled the papers around and looked at them some more.

Lee saw Gordon’s mouth form, "That's twice."

"You have several hundred thousand in your debit card account," Mr. Christopher went on. "If you sign a termination of contract and allow us to recover the two-hundred twenty- seven million pledged in your draw account, we will forgive the previous disbursements in their entirety. You can keep the minor balance in the debit card account to make a transition, to find another backer, or to live on until you can find some employment below.

"Why should I throw the bank's good money after bad, if I can recover half the funds? Our percentage of your previous patents and claims continues at five percent of course and those tend to increase in value. So eventually we'll make good our losses. But those same royalties give you a nice little cash flow, to help you get established down below. It may not seem much compared to the cost of refitting an expedition, but you would find it to be a considerable income, with the lower cost of living on a planet. Many people on Derfhome live comfortably on as much income. I consider the package a very generous offer. What do you say?"

"If you will make two things explicit in the termination agreement, I think we can wrap things up as you wish." Gordon offered. "The first, you make clear you have no interest in our ship, High Hopes, and will not seek to put any lien on it, for any reason. The second point is, that while our relationship on previous claims continues as is normal, you have no interest in any claims or patents we file henceforth, as you are no longer our backer. If we say, walk across the corridor to Royal Bank and they will stake us, we are free to offer them terms on all future claims and patents we file, from this date forward.

"If you don't want our business anymore, I'd like to make sure it is a clean and complete break. I don't want to come back with a nice discovery and have you hassling Royal Bank that you had a six-year contract and wanting a piece of the action, because things went better for us than you expected. Make it in plain language, like I just said."

"Excellent, Mr. Gordon," he said, as he typed something in a virtual keyboard they couldn't see, from their side of the desk. "I'm having my secretary add two paragraphs, stating both things almost word for word as you requested, although they were implicit in the original. We'll just avoid mentioning our rivals across the corridor by name if you'll forgive that small vanity. When he prints them we shall sign and witness them.

"Thank you for accepting. I know it must have been hard for you. Six years from now, I think you'll look back with relief and feel it was the wise thing to do." He couldn't hide a flash of smugness on his face.

Gordon gave him back a tooth filled carnivore's smile, that didn't mean at all the friendly agreement Mr. Christopher took it to mean.

A middle-aged lady and two gentlemen in suits, all Human, came in with four hard copies and they all examined them briefly before signing. Nobody was introduced to them and indeed they seemed distracted and anxious to leave as soon as they signed. This had obviously pulled them away from more important matters.

Gordon made sure it was exactly what he requested. The secretary must have printed it off an audio recording, because it was almost word for word, except Royal Bank was replaced by 'another backer'. They were given two copies in envelopes and reminded a copy would be posted to the public net on Derfhome. That was the Derf custom for all commercial contracts to be public, not secret.

"Can you tell me if Glen retired out system, or went down to Derfhome to live?" Gordon asked after he stood. "I wouldn't mind at least calling the old fellow and relating how Lee's parents passed and the adventures we had."

"I don't know for sure. We never had much to say to each other," Christopher said. That didn't surprise Gordon. "But I believe he's still on-station, because I heard someone mention he was looking for commercial property on the hab, and that he’d called our mortgage unit. Normally we'd insist on keeping our employee's privacy, but if you want I can have somebody from resources leave a message with him, that you're in-system, and would like to be contacted."

"I'd appreciate that," Gordon said. A nod of his head to Christopher's secretary established it.

* * *

"Was that honest?" Lee asked, dubiously, when they were outside.

"What?" Gordon asked in an astonished tone. "In what particular was it dishonest? You cut me to the quick." He said it with a theatrical British accent and a very well done Human gesture of a slack hand touching spread fingertips to his breast.

"You never told him we made a big find!" Lee objected.

"Did he seem interested at all? - Hmm? All I heard was he was eager to get rid of us low-class treasure hunters and get his cash flow in nice orderly streams, instead of fits and starts. He freely offered the deal before I could even tell him about our discovery. I had every intention of doing so, if he'd have just shut up a moment. But the hand stopped me," Gordon said, holding his hand up flat like Mr. Christopher had, to silence him.

"I'd sure hate to upset him with the five percent of our claims," Gordon went on. "Why, he'd have been embarrassed by all the money flowing in, bigger and bigger, quarter after quarter, all from the disreputable Exploration Department, they didn't really want anyway.

"To him, finds like ours just don't happen to real people. So it never crossed his mind, to ask if we'd made any discoveries. And it would ruin his slander of Glen, as a desperate gambling has-been. Not to mention, he's such an ass for not even twitching at your parents' death, he doesn't deserve to suck down the gods’ good air, much less share in our fortune!"

"Well, yeah, I kinda noticed that too," Lee admitted. "In fact, I was having a hard time not crying. It was like they were just nothing."

"Thank you for your courage. That would have been the final straw with me and Mr. Christopher," Gordon told Lee. "I'd have probably ripped his ugly face off and pasted it on his behind if he made you cry."

"I like it when you get all indignant for me. Thanks, Uncle Gordon," she sniffled.

"You're welcome, Sweetie."

"He's handling this for the bank and yet he didn't even have a clue what the green earrings were about, did he?" Lee realized.

"Not a bit," Gordon assured her. "Glen would have yelled - Waahoo!!! - and broke out the champagne when we walked in with Greenies hanging from our ears, without our saying a word to him."

"OK then. I mean, I'm OK with the whole thing. I apologize for questioning your honesty. That was unkind of me, disrespectful even," Lee admitted.

"Hey - no offense taken. I may need a conscience sometime and I want you to speak up then. But this is what I was talking about before," Gordon reminded her. "When we get to Earth I may not be there at your elbow, to caution you not to say anything. You just have to learn reserve and to mull things over and be slow to speak. In 'civilization' the quieter you are, the safer, most of the time. You could have insisted on speaking over him and blurting out about our find, but you certainly had no obligation to forcefully interrupt him to do so."

"I see that," Lee agreed, concern showing on her face. "I almost blew it back there. He was busy messing up and I almost corrected him when he didn't deserve the help. How much money are we talking about? What would have been their cut, that he threw away?"

"Well our personal claims, like our land, they don't have any cut," Gordon said. "But the general discovery reward is fifteen percent of everything the survey charges to settlers and miners and leasers. Their five percent is off the fifteen, so we'd have actually collected ten percent. But that's the going rate for bankrolling exploration. Once you have a proved-out discovery, that's a very different matter.

"I could walk across to Royal Bank of Canada, as I told him, and they would be delighted to advance us almost any number I could name for just one percent of a documented discovery. It keeps rolling in year after year and keeps getting bigger after all. But now that I have control of it, we're never going to sign that sort of a contract again. We can ask a normal loan at market rates and just use our claim for collateral, not dip into it. We'll talk to another bank that has an office planetside though. I just threw out Royal Bank as an example."

"Come on Gordon. Give me a number, what kind of money will we have coming in."

"We'll get a big hunk quickly, certainly several hundred million euromarks within weeks for the initial leases. Then there will be a steady build-up for years. Say four or five years from now, several billion euromarks a quarter. Twenty years from now? Probably more than either of us can imagine. It's a life-long benefit and you are young. Eventually, you'll be a trillionaire in a few decades as it's developed. By the time you or I die, any heirs will be looking at a fortune many sovereign countries would envy," Gordon assured her.

Lee didn't say anything. She couldn't really get her head around it yet.

Chapter 9

The journey to Gordon's home was like a trip in a time machine. They took a shuttle down to Derfhome, which was the name of the capital as well as the world. Gordon bought supplies there he knew wouldn't be available out in the countryside and packed everything compactly in soft luggage. They barely saw any of the town before leaving.

An aircraft, modern by Derf standards, clunky by Human tastes, took them across the ocean to the major city on the lesser continent, with a name that meant literally, Fish Town. A motor bus took them to a smaller city, where they spent the night in a hotel that, while not as fancy as the one on the orbital, had hot water in the bath and modern carpets and services. Gordon went downstairs and came back in a bit with two small phones.

"Here, your regular spex com won't work when we leave town," Gordon said handing her new. "You might as well pack them away. These work out in the wilds, off an aerostat or satellite. It's a different system and you have to be fairly open to the sky. When we get to my clan's place they will just have one phone and the eldest wife usually keeps it on her person. They'd think it an outrageous extravagance to carry a personal phone, so keep it tucked away out of sight unless you need help. If you need to look up info on what passes for a web mirror here, do it in private."

A taxi service took them from the small town, deep into the woods. The trees slowly got closer to the road, until they were almost in a tunnel. Eventually, the climbing road started twisting back and forth and rose until the trees got stunted and wind-sculpted and the land started opening up into meadows.

The village they finally came to was named Hill Fort and had no concrete or metal buildings like the cities. Everything was stone and massive timbers, with stucco covering the facing between the frame members. Most were sunken into hillsides until it was hard to tell what was natural contour and what was covered building. The main road they came in on was the only one paved and every side street was stone or gravel. Gordon offered the driver a room for the night, but he declined, turning to start the long drive back in the dark.

Their inn for the night was more a neighborhood tavern and village restaurant than a hotel. The dining room was busy and full of locals who presumably had homes to go to, but preferred spending their evening in the tavern. It was one big room and had a huge fireplace at one end that was fully functional, with a huge seared quarter of something, turning slowly over the fire. It smelled good.

They went to their rooms first and Lee was surprised to find they had no bathroom.

"It's at the end of the hall," Gordon told her, waving that direction. "There's a commode there and you'd better be careful using it. If you fall in I think it's big enough we'd never see you again. Maybe best you use the honey pot and the maid will empty it in the morning." He ducked down and found it under the desk dragging it out for her. It was stainless and lidded, but being Derf sized it was about twenty liters.

"You've got to be kidding. I'd rather go outside and dig a privy," Lee said.

"Well, the locals might take exception to that too. At least I brought a few rolls of toilet paper for you in our bags. I also brought some plastic liner bags too, because Humans are really offensive that way to Derf and we might want to stay here again someday," Gordon said.

Lee didn't say anything, because she knew it was true. But her face said she wasn't in a mood to hear it again either.

"The locals use a bag-like cloth they slip over their hand like a glove and then wash and reuse. The trouble is they are almost big enough to make you a shirt. And if that doesn't deter you, they are about the same texture as a burlap bag. I don't think you'd find it invigorating like Derf," Gordon predicted.

"And what do we do for an actual bath?" Lee asked darkly.

"The maid will bring us a bucket of hot water in the morning and leave it outside the door. We can wash up with the basin there on the side table. Guests are expected to have their own soap and washcloths, so I bought them for us," Gordon explained.

"OK. It's just kind of like camping out, but in a room. No problem." Lee decided.

"But there is one tiny matter we still have to talk about," Gordon said.

"You understand that isn't one of my favorite things to hear?" Lee asked.

"Hey, just hear me out, OK?" Gordon pleaded.

"Give me a pass on using vicariously the third time," Lee bargained. "Or I'm liable to say something stupid when we go to dinner, just to get it in."

"Deal," Gordon agreed. "Now, about going to dinner, we're starting to get up in the hills here. The Derf out here follow different customs than in the city. That affects you because I'm presenting you to them as my daughter."

"OK, what do I have to do? Follow you around ten paces back, or call you master or something?" Lee asked.

"Please understand, some of their customs may bother you. Usually, there are reasons for them, or at least there were at one time," Gordon said. "Plenty of them I'm ready to see gone and the Derf like me in the cities already have ditched a lot of them."

"You're explaining so much this is really going to be bad," Lee said. "I can tell."

"It doesn't have to be. In a nutshell, if you are a child you have to stay silent when in the company of your elders. Not in my company like now," Gordon said. "Not in our rooms and not outside traveling. But like down in the tavern when we get dinner, I should order for you. You could whisper in my ear if you really need to, but even that's bad form. And when we visit my relatives in their homes, if there are adults present, they'd have to give you leave to speak as close family. You, of course, can answer a direct question from an adult, but on the plus side you can refuse and tell them to ask me and they can't take offense at it. Speaking freely is not something either of us could request either. It's something they'd have to offer."

"Are they the sort who would offer?" Lee wondered.

Gordon wrinkled his snout in a grimace. "Probably not. I have a couple of old female relatives who are real fossils. Reactionary is probably too mild a description. Even the ones that might offer, would hold back for fear of offending them. Now, we could probably ignore it here and get away with it. But not any further up in the hills."

"It's only about a week. I can stand anything for a week," Lee said, resigned.

"Except, if you want to, you can become an adult by Derf custom," Gordon offered. "Our way is not to set an arbitrary age. A Derf declares they are assuming their majority. Now, that doesn't mean as much for a Derf as a Human. They usually declare long before they leave home and still live with their parents and clan and still get told what to do most of the time. It's more like a coming out used to be in Human society. They were accepted then to attend social events and go to public things like the horse races where little children didn't belong. It's like a Human child who reaches the point they are responsible enough to babysit, drive the farm tractor, or ride the fence line alone. I understand your people have no way of formalizing that. It doesn't mean that somebody is ready to move out and live on their own."

"And what's the downside?" Lee asked.

"Well, you are responsible for your mouth once you are free to speak. If you offend somebody we could suddenly be unwelcome. At the very worst somebody could demand satisfaction and challenge you to a duel. That hasn't happened in years. The Mothers never let things get to that point," Gordon assured her. "And you can form legal contracts."

"How is that on the downside?" Lee asked. It seemed a plus.

"I'll give you an example," Gordon told her. "If a child shows up at your door in the mountains, even if it's the winter and you are low on food, you have to take them in. If an adult shows up, you could theoretically shut the door in his face, if it is a burden. You can demand payment, or that he pledge to repay you when the winter breaks. Even demand he stay and work it off over the summer if he's broke. All financial things work pretty much to that pattern. You can be obligated."

"Huh." Lee sat thinking about it.

"And you can't take it back once you declare," Gordon warned. "Oh, and if you are an adult, then you are responsible for children. If you are around them you are expected to supervise them and protect them. That means you should avoid being alone with them up in the hill country, because you don't know how to keep them safe.

"Technically, if you are an adult and visiting Red Tree clan, once you accept their hospitality and stay under their roof you are obligated to defend the place. Like I said, we haven't had a clan war in twelve hundred years, so that doesn't mean much."

"All of a sudden, lots of things I didn't understand about the language make sense. I didn't have the cultural context to understand some of the sayings. What do I have to do to declare I'm an adult? You have some kind of registry or something?" Lee asked.

"If you wear an edged weapon, that's your sign to the world. A child can carry a hatchet or a single bit axe, but a double bit battle axe is an adult's. Same of course with a knife that has a guard. Children can have folders, or a utility blade with a straight handle. I brought a knife from the capital in case you wanted to do this," Gordon said. "I brought a pistol too. If you wear a knife, then you can wear a pistol too. Long guns and bows are tools, if they aren't military grade. There are some exceptions for them, but I don't want to get into explaining complicated customs."

"Can I think about it tonight and decide before we start out in the morning?" Lee asked.

"You could, but then you'd best stay in our room," Gordon said. "We're close enough to the hill country here that tales travel. If you show yourself one way tonight in the tavern and show up different at Red Tree, they will take it for deception. I could bring something up for you if you want. They don't exactly have room service. At least not any that would hold your interest."

"What? Why would... Oh crap." Lee blushed and decided to ignore that.

"Do I get to see what kind of weapons you brought?" She said to change the subject.

"Does what I got really make any difference in what you do?" Gordon asked. "If so, I can guarantee you aren't ready to wear them."

"No, it was just a way to put off deciding. Give me a minute and I'll think about it," Lee said.

Gordon fussed with their luggage and watched Lee lay on her back with a bag for a pillow. For all he could tell, she was drifting off to sleep.

"Does that screw up anything about my adoption? Lee asked him after a while.

"Not at all, late adoptions are common among Derf and mean more in a tribal society. I've seen forty-year-old people adopted where there were issues of inheritance they wanted to be settled."

"So, if you adopt me will I be a citizen of Derfhome?" Lee asked.

That jolted Gordon. "I never thought that part of it out. But if I adopt you then you are a member of Red Tree and by extension a Derf. There may be a few in the clan who don't like that, but nothing they can do. I have enough status they can take a flying leap. So, yes you'd definitely be a citizen of Derfhome. You would be expected to work to the advancement of our clan and do charity to those in need.

"Huh!" he exclaimed to himself at a new thought. "Being female, you could even come to be named a Mother in time and represent the clan to the outside and sit in judgment over disputes." He seemed a bit shocked at his own idea.

"OK, that's a lot more than just having you as my guardian. You got a lot of pull in the clan, huh?" Lee asked.

"Lee, most of my clan have never been down to the sea. I've been out to the stars. Over the long haul, our clan has counted itself successful if it had enough to eat over the winter and the old people and kids didn't starve. I'm like everybody who leaves home to work. I keep my business private and what I make is my business and nobody asked how much I earn, or how much of it I'm going to contribute to the clan. I've been generous enough that the old ladies who keep the books are very kindly disposed to me."

"Hmm, I'm going to be rich too, Gordon. Maybe that will make me a little more acceptable to your clan. You got any idea if Derf majority and citizenship enjoy reciprocity in Earth law?"

"I'm surprised you know the term. I have no idea. I wouldn't want to try to claim your majority for you under Earth law. It's not the same at all, and Human children who are emancipated are usually sixteen or seventeen-years-old, and are either married or doing something like joining the military so they are on their own."

"Yeah, well it was just one of those things you find in a search looking for something else and suddenly you've been reading about it for hours," Lee explained. "Something about a bunch of Loonies who went to Japan on vacation and the hotel got all freaked because the Loonies were all married to each other in a group. They said they wouldn't rent them rooms except by pairs. So it was an issue of Loonie and Japanese reciprocity."

"How did it work out, do you remember?" Gordon wondered.

"Yeah, the Japanese had already allowed Arabs to rent rooms with more than one wife. So, they couldn't fail to acknowledge Loonie marriage contracts if they allowed different customs for Muslims. It's hard though, I know one little item of trivia, but you know more about Earth and Human customs than I do, and I'm the Earth Human."

"I'm seventy years old and have been closer to a Human couple than most Derf ever have had the opportunity. I'll let you read their wills some time," Gordon offered. "They specifically name me to be your guardian and asked me if that was OK before they wrote it. I read a lot about raising Human children and asked them a lot of questions while they were alive knowing it was a possibility."

"Then why did you ask me if I wanted you to adopt me, if it was set up that way from the start?" Lee demanded of Gordon.

"Because it didn't matter if we wanted it. I had to hear it was what you wanted as well, or I'd have tried to find some other way you'd be happy. I'm not going to force anybody to be family."

"That is probably the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say," Lee told him.

"Uh, thanks, I think," Gordon said, uncertainly. "I wouldn't call you an Earth Human either. The Humans out here are very different. I think Earth will be a bit bewildering to you. I know it was to me when I went there and joined up with your parents."

"OK, I made up my mind," Lee declared abruptly. "I'll declare myself a member of polite society and wear the stuff. I kind of figure my mom declared me to be at that stage you are talking about six months ago when she trusted me with a pistol. But I'm sticking right by your elbow and keeping my mouth shut most of the time. Until I figure out what's what. I can just see I won't enjoy the visit, or learn very much, if I can't even ask questions."

Gordon considered that. He'd never viewed Myrtle's action in that light. It made sense and he knew she wouldn't do something like that without consulting Jack too. Aloud he said - "Good, 'cause I'm getting hungry. I couldn't get another pistol like yours. They didn't have much for Humans at all. This is a six millimeter," Gordon displayed a slim automatic. It was nothing pretty, just efficient black death in a compact package. "I'd have liked to get you at least a nine, but I wasn't sure you could handle the recoil. Same make as your first at least, so the safety and sights are the same. The magazine holds twenty-six and there is a spare magazine holder in the edge of the holster," he showed her. The holster had a full snap-down flap too.

"Why is there a flap on the holster? Doesn't that just slow things down?" Lee didn't like that.

"It's polite. Derf have a thing about Humans with naked guns, given how we started out with each other. I want it to slow you down. I want you safe, but I don't even want you to unsnap that flap unless you are bleeding already. I do not want you shooting some idiot child who has never been off the farm and thinks it would be funny to jump out of the bushes and scare the harmless little Earth child. Do you understand where I'm coming from?" Gordon asked.

"Derf got idiots too?" Lee asked.

"The gods," Gordon declared very seriously, "seem to have decreed a minimum number, in every race and family, no matter how hard they try to eliminate themselves before breeding age. I have a brick of a thousand rounds and a couple of extra magazines. There will be plenty of places to practice on our clan hold, but you have to load the magazines yourself."

"Thank you, Uncle Gordon."

"You should stop calling me Uncle Gordon too. It may sound like you are not accepting your adoption. I understand, but plain Gordon would be better. If you try to go back and forth between them you'll forget in public.

"This is your knife. The pistol is enough to demonstrate adult status, but the Derf have a thing about edged weapons. They'd never think to engrave a pistol or put fancy grips on it, but the kind of axe or knife you carry shows your status. I tried to make sure yours was suitable for somebody wearing a Greenie."

The blade was about a hundred and fifty millimeters long, swirled in strikingly beautiful Damascus. It tapered straight with double edges and at the thick rear was scalloped in from the cutting edges in front of the guard. The guard was in fine silver, each side terminated in a claw clasping a Lapis ball. The grip was small enough for her hand and covered in a wrap of double twisted silver wire. The termination that flared out on the end was fine silver too, but instead of Lapis, a single oval sapphire cabochon was mounted in a rope twist rim.

"We couldn't find anything Human-sized like this out here," Gordon explained. "Even the tiniest little plain kitchen knife would still have too big a grip for you. That's why I bought them in the capital, where there is a market for Human-sized things. I figured you'd use them someday if not now."

Gordon slid it in a textured silver sheath, which gave a little snick as it locked all the way in. "You can pull hard and it will come out," he instructed, "or you can touch here," he showed her on the sheath and it will release silently and not drag."

"This is the prettiest thing anybody has ever given me," Lee told him.

"Here's a belt to hang them," Gordon continued, pleased and offered her a rig most Humans would call a Sam Browne belt. The shoulder belt supported the pistol on the cross draw side and a handy purse clipped on the belt too. He also produced a set of Human scale silverware for Lee. Travelers and guests were expected to carry their own in the backcountry.

Lee dressed for dinner in canvas pants and a safari jacket over a plain t-shirt. By the time she was done Gordon was ready in Derfish rustic formal, a silver-studded cross shoulder belt with a small case, a .75 caliber machine pistol, and a plain steel axe that looked to mass about twenty kilos.

Chapter 10

The room was big, but full of Derf it was cozy. It had been cool when their taxi pulled in near night and even colder now, but the room was warmed by the fire and the mass of warm bodies. It was full of workmen and farmers, some still wearing leather aprons or work harness from their jobs. There was a stew kettle to one side of the hearth and the meat turning they'd seen earlier was being cut by a Derf serving himself.

There was no big reaction when they walked in. No hush fell, nor did everyone turn and look, but by the time they seated themselves at a small table by the wall, they were certain everyone in the room was aware of their presence and had probably communicated his opinion on them to his neighbor, by expression or whispered comment.

The innkeeper came around and Gordon told him they would take the hospitality of the hearth and ordered a beer. Lee wondered if they had tea, but Gordon had to warn her off it. On the orbital habitat they'd have tea safe for Humans. In the countryside, their herbal teas could be toxic to Humans. They didn't have sodas, so she just said she'd have a sip of Gordon's beer.

The rustic look of everything was broken by the plastic bag of bread he brought back to the table, with its bright modern printing. They were big circles of flatbread and he left a couple of bowls for the stew.

"Watch me when I go up. You'll get the idea," Gordon said.

Gordon put his silverware on the table and took a small knife with him, as well as a round of bread and a bowl tucked under his arm. He held the bread under the meat with one hand and sliced off a few strips. Then he set his bowl down and dipped some stew from the pot. He made it look easy with his big hands. He could grip the bowl around the rim in his fingertips from above.

Lee decided to leave her bowl and make two trips. The knife was so sharp it was scary. She cut one strip off and felt something poke her in the butt tentatively twice. She had no idea it was a fork and figuring it for harassment, refused to give anyone the satisfaction of turning and looking. She hadn't seen one of the regulars in a well-used work smock, who had winked at his tablemates and gone up to give her a hard time.

"This little tidbit looks good, but it's a bit on the rare side," an unfamiliar voice muttered in a stage whisper, close behind her.

The humor of hill clansmen, mechanics, and farmers ran to the coarse. Gordon forced himself to look amused, knowing they would be watching his reaction more than Lee's. She usually had a good sense of humor, but that was before. He hoped she could handle a little ribbing. The way they were smiling it didn't seem to be mean spirited.

"I'm tough and stringy and too salty," Lee assured her unseen tormentor, remembering her conversation with Gordon and continuing to cut another slice as if nothing had happened. Quite a few ears perked up at her flawless command of the local language.

"Besides, you'd never survive the ... you know," she said mysteriously.

"No, I have no idea." The strange voice said, with a hint of honest curiosity.

"The diarrhea," Lee said, in her own well-pitched stage whisper and using a really crude Derf word for the affliction.

The troublemaker's friend back at their table blew beer through his nose explosively and couldn't decide whether to choke or laugh. Even her tormentor was momentarily at a loss what to do, but then took a big step back and made an exaggerated show of wiping his fork off and inspecting it so dubiously, he looked like he might thrust it in the coals to be on the safe side. Lee finished carving her meat and gave him her sweetest smile as she yielded the hearth to him.

Gordon made no mention of the exchange and neither did she.

"Can you go back up and get seconds if you want?" Lee asked.

"You can if your belly is big enough." Gordon was looking at what had to be a kilo and a half of meat on a round of bread a third of a meter across in front of her. He figured he'd have to finish it for her. "Some of these guys will sit and drink all evening and go back up three or four times. They won't start a new haunch of meat, because it takes all afternoon to cook, but they'll dump more stew in the pot from the kitchen and bread is cheap."

"Not for me," Lee objected." I'm just wondering what is customary."

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, there's a bowl of salt on the side up there if you need a pinch."

"This is great like it is. Tastes like beef," Lee declared.

"That's because it is beef. Some of the things we were delighted to buy from Earthies, were breeding stock for beef cattle, goats, and pigs. None of our native herbivores do well in captivity. We still manage them free range and hunt them, but beef is cheaper to raise. Down in the lowlands that is, not up here," Gordon explained.

"No sheep?" Lee asked.

Gordon made a face. "Sheep are so gods awful stupid they take too much care and ruin the land if you don't manage them closely. The pigs you just let loose in the woods and harvest them like the native animals. We already had an animal similar to swine so they haven't upset the balance of things much. Our version is a little smaller and more of a digger, making actual burrows. The trouble with the Earth swine is that some of the big boar are so mean they'll attack a Derf."

"That's - hard to imagine." Lee allowed.

"One of my letters from home told me about a male child from my clan, who went up a tree rather than mess with a big boar," Gordon said. "He spent near a day up the tree before they went looking for him. The pig weighed just under four hundred kilos and had tusks twice as big as my claws. The kid in the tree was about two hundred and fifty kilos so he was smart to climb. He might have taken the boar, but for sure he'd have gotten hurt doing it. On the plus side, they are generally smart enough they stay away from around a clan home with all the activity."

Lee tried picking up Gordon's beer and gave up on it. She just tipped it on edge and drank deeply since it was so much trouble to get to it. It was deep red and just cool, not ice-chilled.

"Not bad," Lee allowed thoughtfully. "Dad would give me tastes of his beer, but it had a bitter taste this doesn't have. This even has a touch of sweet to it."

"Out here each inn has its own beer. Even bottled beer is local. They won't drink city beer here. Can't say as I blame them, this is as like to have cheap Earthie wheat or rice in it as barley, now that they grow it in the flatlands. Our clan brews its own of course. All the clan houses have their own brew mistresses and supposed secret formulas. The humor gets even cruder about what the neighboring clans put in their beer than what you gave back at that joker up at the hearth." Gordon looked over and found his discourse had been wasted. Lee was sound asleep, leaning on the wall.

Nobody was offended or even surprised, when Gordon carried Lee out draped over his shoulder. Quite a few customers far bigger and older than Lee left the same way.

* * *

In the morning the inn served no breakfast. Lee was very happy she had a couple of food bars in her carry case and followed Gordon's advice to eat one slowly, with tiny little bites, and save the other. Even Gordon grumbled about not having coffee. He'd forgotten to bring any too.

They had a ride again, but to her surprise, it was with the local mailman. He seemed not at all surprised at a Human as a passenger, just nodding hello.

Derf disdain for needless redundancy being what it was, he was an agent for a half dozen package delivery services as well. When he delivered for UPS he popped on a brown hat with their logo and when he delivered for Cooper's he donned a gray cap with a stylized old rocket.

Every stop seemed to include a quick conversation and gossip exchange if the householder was waiting by the mailbox. Lee suspected he was what Humans would call a character. He spat out the window a lot and seemed to go on a long time without Gordon needing to add anything to the conversation to encourage him. Besides his formal deliveries, he was happy to take less formal freight. At one stop he loaded a tray on the tailgate with hot pies, to drop off three stops down the road. At another, he loaded a foam board box of puppies, for a stop on the way back. Gordon had to tell Lee they were Earth- life when she thought they were local.

Lee thought she was beyond further surprise, when a fellow tied a goat to the tailgate to be led at a trot to a neighbor.

"Does he get any extra pay at all for doing all this?" she finally asked when he had to get out at a stop, and she could ask Gordon privately.

"When he makes the rounds after the Mid-Summer festival, he will get so many tips and gifts he'll go back in with the truck as full as when he started. I'll leave him a little something here on the dash when we get dropped off. It wouldn't do to hand cash to him like it was a fare. And you don't think all those pies from the widow made it down to the ranch hands do you? I can still smell at least one back there."

"Seems like a pretty good job to me," Lee said.

"It is. But it's seasonal and he doesn't get paid when the backcountry is snowed in. If we need something in winter, something important like medicine for one of the kids, then we'd have an aircar literally drop it off at the keep. The only way they'd clear a spot of snow and land one, is if they needed an ambulance. Thankfully I've never seen that done," Gordon added.

"Why didn't we just hire an aircar to drop us off, since it's nice weather now?" Lee asked.

"Just like your phone, that would be just a little too fancy. Aircars are expensive even to rent. People who've never had a ride in one would think we were showing off," Gordon said.

The road had been smooth and big enough for another vehicle to pass, although all they saw away from town was one Derf, on some sort of earthmover with a big scoop on the front. But soon she saw why the mail truck was so high off the ground and had such big clunky wheels. The road narrowed down to one lane and then a few kilometers later, when they passed a long fence with a gate, it turned into two tracks, with a hump in the middle where the grasses and weeds thrived uninhibited. A couple of times Lee was sure she saw something moving in the high grass. In a few fields, the grass was lodged over in patterns, as if something had trampled it down.

They climbed for a long time, parallel to a stream, until the high grass gave way to flowered meadows of short growth and the stream instead of being an even flow, tumbled noisily over naked boulders. There was a cairn of rocks beside the track and a shipping container that must serve as a jumbo mailbox, with nobody waiting, but the driver stopped. He gave Gordon a stack of envelopes and a small box.

"Welcome home and give my regards to your grandma," the driver told Gordon.

"I will. You may see us in a week or so going out," Gordon warned him, arranging their luggage to be easy to carry.

"Be pleased to have you. Having company is always better than driving alone."

The ruts leading uphill were so faint Lee was sure they didn't see much traffic. The hills were covered with leafy, ankle high growth, thickly spotted with small flowers of many colors. There were just occasional clumps of stunted trees all pushed to the same side by the wind. The direction they were headed was back-dropped by distant mountains, high enough they had no vegetation on the high slopes and the very peaks had snow in what was obviously late summer.

"You best ride, or you'll be too tired to be civil and meet folks when we get there," Gordon suggested. Lee didn't argue and mounted up when he bowed.

"How far?" she asked.

"And are we there yet?" Gordon teased. "We'll be most of the afternoon, less if I ran, but I'm out of shape and not used to this altitude anymore. It's only about eighty percent of the partial pressure of oxygen we run in the ship. You might like to chew on that last food bar if you want. My folks eat a late breakfast that is well past and supper won't be for a while after we get there."

"Is there some ceremony we'll have to do for you to adopt me?" Lee asked.

"We just have to announce it to everyone. There is no certificate or anything, but the older ladies who keep family records will start making entries about your dealings in the clan. So there is a paper trail if somebody asks. That's the same way we marry - a couple goes around and announces to everybody that they are married now. There's nothing you folks, well maybe not you, I mean socialized Humans, would call a ceremony. They often do it in the Fall Festival when clans get together for slaughtering and berry time. You'll be expected to contribute when you visit home and that gets noted in the books too, Gordon told her. "There are often a few of the clan in the city, working for cash money like we are.

"If somebody suggests you help with something you really should do it, unless it's beyond your capacity. If it is, just tell them. Some might not understand how much you can lift, or how long you can keep going. We'll make an offering of money, but they don't suggest how much and we can afford to do it easily. We don't want to get carried away and kick in so much we make others feel bad who don't see much cash money. There's something I should probably tell you too."

"Hmm, as in, There's-Something-We-Need-To-Talk-About?"

"No, not that serious, the clan, even the senior ladies who keep the books, know I'm an explorer. And I'm sure they know I've made some good money," Gordon said. "All they have to do is consult the web mirror to find out what the voyage rings mean and I've been home since I added the Blue. When I came home after the Blue, I kicked in a chunk of cash that was a substantial piece of the hold's gross income for a year. But they have no idea I put all the rest of my shares off the blue, into a full partnership with your parents. So they may assume I was just crew, working for normal bonuses. They have no idea I'm sure, the scale of payout a third of a Greenie would mean."

"Well, I'll just keep that our little secret if you want," Lee agreed.

"Thanks, Lee, I'd rather keep it private."

Chapter 11

The path climbed between two hills, the taller with a stone ruin. It perched on the summit of the hill, like a hat, gate gone, the breach an empty notch in the circle pointed at the saddle.

"What was that up there?" Lee asked Gordon.

"A watch outpost for when the clans would war. They could see the eastern approaches to the keep and signal with fire if the enemy approached."

"But you said you haven't fought like that in the last twelve hundred years?"

"Yes and that wall is a lot older. If oral history is to be trusted, the eldest Mother says it is four thousand years since bowmen stood on those walls," Gordon said.

"I'd like to come back before we go and climb up there," Lee requested.

"You should ask the ladies leave," Gordon said. "They have a reverence for such places. They never allow them to be pulled down for the stone and when Earthies asked to dig the site they refused."

"If they do dig it they should make sure the things are kept here," Lee said. "From what I've read in my lessons some archaeologists are little better than grave robbers."

Gordon nodded. "That's what they feared. The eldest said the things would be there to dig in another thousand years as well as today, they're not going anywhere and if they haven't decayed in four millennia they won't in five."

At the top of the notch, between the two hills, a valley was visible stretching back into the foothills of the mountains. A few dots of color were clearly buildings and there were squares and rectangles of different colors marking cultivation. The notch wasn't truly a pass like in the great mountains. It was just a saddle between hills that gave them a vantage point.

"That's home," Gordon told her with a sweep of his arm. "Red Tree is as far as you can see back to the mountains and deep into the hills north and south. It's all downhill from here. The keep is just inside the dark raised area down there where the trees start again." He didn't speak again for a while and picked up his pace on the slope to something that approached a six-legged trot.

Little things started looking different as they worked their way down off the heights. Where there were woods, there were no windfall or dead limbs littered. On one of the last small hills they passed before the flats, a single pole had an antenna and solar panel at the top, likely a radio repeater station. There were cairns of rock here and there and occasional piles all jumbled that didn't make any sense to Lee.

They started passing out-buildings and workshops for a kilometer before they came in sight of the keep. The keep proper was a stone circle, on a rise like the fort on the hill they had passed. It, however, still had its gates and they were metal faced and looked like it would take a great deal to breach them. The buildings inside were earth sheltered and housed the vital shops and storage. That still left lots of work buildings and private dwellings outside, scattered widely among the trees. Even though they had walked in, there was an all-wheel drive truck similar to the mail truck, parked under a shelter without side walls.

There were lots of people walking about, some carrying things and a few with wheelbarrows. Several locals greeted Gordon, or stopped to touch hands with him along the way. One old Derf sat on a ledge to the side of the gate, that seemed to be put there just for him. Lee had never seen a Derf old enough to be streaked with more silver than brown, but he was huge, towering even over Gordon and stood with powerful grace that didn't match the silver. He had no emblems or uniform, but the huge modern weapon he wore hanging on a combat harness proclaimed he was the guard of the gate. It looked suitable for engaging main battle tanks.

If anything survived his fire, the bronze axe in his belt had a curved cutting edge on each side, as long as her forearm, with a shaft Lee doubted she could circle with both hands. The perfectly polished golden face of the axe was covered with complicated engraving and the bottom of each outside arch had a nasty little curl with its own cutting edge, that looked disturbingly like a can opener. All the action videos in their ship library showed Earthie Marines in powered armor as the ultimate fighting machine, but Lee suspected that hook was designed to open such armor like a tin of fish.

The old fellow embraced Gordon. With eight arms, that was a lot of embracing, but they all seemed to find someplace to go. Lee was astonished that the older Derf was a full head higher than Gordon. He must have massed closer to a full ton, than to Gordon's seven-hundred plus kilos. His true arms went over Gordon's shoulder's easily, so everything was offset upward a notch and they meshed smoothly.

"And you are Lee," the giant stated with certainty when they parted.

Lee made a gesture of respect with her palms turned in, but he wasn't having any of that formality and scooped her up in a hug. Other than the oversized weapon hard between them it, was a warm and welcoming gesture.

Nose to nose he informed Lee with a low rumbling voice that he should be addressed as William, then he stopped abruptly and turned her to the left and his eyes got big staring at the green gem hanging there. He looked closely at Gordon for confirmation and held Lee out at arm’s length to stare at her in wonder.

"Aiyeee! You hit the big one you did!" William proclaimed much louder.

"Will - don't make a fuss," Gordon insisted, looking around embarrassed.

"Don't make a fuss," he repeated, with a prissy little voice for Lee's benefit, and rolled his eyes for her. "Go on in and meet folks. I'll see you again at supper." He sat her down straight-armed, like she weighed nothing.

There were lots of Derf busy with unfamiliar tasks, scurrying about the large room when they went in. It was obviously a dining hall, but the tables were busy now between meals with other tasks. A couple of young girls seemed to be separating nut meats. Another was making something small, with wire and pliers.

The table by the fireplace was no different than the rest, except the three Derf sitting there elbow to elbow were the center of all the activity, every move in the room somehow orbiting around them and everyone's eyes making an occasional surreptitious glance, to see if they were being watched by any of the three. The action transformed the simple wooden bench into a throne.

The eldest greeted Gordon with a string of names, that Lee realized near the end must be his formal name. She was embarrassed she'd never learned even the short form and wished she'd picked up on it faster and really listened from the start.

"Sit, have a beer and tell us your news and what adventures you've had," the female ordered.

"Thank you," Gordon eased down and slapped his knee with the usual gesture he made to invite Lee to sit there. Otherwise, she'd be sitting barely able to see over the table edge. She scrambled up and sat there, grabbing the table edge to steady herself.

"This is my daughter Lee," Gordon said. "She is the most important reason I'm back now. We need to go on to Luna and Earth, but by way of Derfhome is the easier road if I'm not mistaken. I want to announce her kinship to the clan, before we need to make the same claim to the Earthies, given their strange bureaucracies and ideas."

"Are you sure Earthie officials might not swallow the whole easier than me?" asked the eldest. "I feel a bit pushed to have you amble in here with no warning and plant her in my face, braced on your knee like a toddler, hung with a gun."

Lee suddenly realized they were alone in the hall, all the busy workers having exited in haste as soon as the old woman started talking. They all apparently knew her voice well enough to know there was some controversy and to get out of the line of fire.

"She can't help her size any more than you can." Lee could hear in his voice that Gordon was surprised by the unexpected hostility, but he didn't display any anger himself. "Her mother full grown was maybe a hundred millimeters taller and she'd have needed a pad or a knee, to see above the board and talk with us too. As to her weapon, that same mother was the one who armed her a half year ago and I was not consulted or advised on that, any more than you were. She showed up one morning at breakfast armed and nobody deemed it worthy of mentioning to me either. Was I supposed to disarm her once she was in my care?"

There was silence at that because it was a great shame to be disarmed. It was permanent and only done for the strongest of reasons. It usually was the same as saying a person was of diminished capacity and would never assume any responsible position in the community.

"Let's hear if she has a voice of her own," the matriarch said and switched to English. "Why, little person, should I believe you are responsible enough to carry a weapon into my household?"

"Well, I haven't shot you yet, have I?" Lee answered sweetly in perfect Derf.

It probably would have been better if the next-to-oldest female at her elbow and Gordon hadn't both got a good laugh out of that.

"And why is that such a mark of restraint?" she continued humorlessly.

"Because you were quick to disrespect my dead mother who armed me, without the burden of knowing her. You accuse Gordon of foolishness for allowing it to continue, if not of actually setting it up to provoke you. You rob me of the welcome I expected as kin and instead I find hate on your face, which I can read very well even if I am Human," Lee assured her. "And the diminutive - 'little person' - was not a term of endearment from your lips. Unless you question other Derf that come here about their wearing arms, how is it anything but bigotry?"

"How dare you speak to me like that in my own hall?" the Mother huffed.

"Because I'm right and you are wrong. And if the facts of it weren't that plain you'd challenge what I said, instead of how I said it," Lee said. Not backing down at all.

"Do you realize I could challenge you for calling me a bigot? That's why children are supposed to learn the consequences of their words, before assuming the responsibility."

"I sort of wondered if it played the other way," Lee said, curious. "Could I challenge you for being one?"

"Then why don't you?" she snarled at Lee.

"Because I assumed the challenged party gets to choose weapons like Humans do. If you chose axes I'm chopped liver. But if you get all emotional and are stupid enough to give me the choice of weapons, well, I'm a lot better shot than you might imagine and a much smaller target than you. I do believe if I can pick hypervelocity pistols I can kill you," Lee said, with a smile.

The next-to-oldest, silent so far, laid a true hand on the older one's lower hand, whose massive claws were sunk into the table edge. "When is the last time you shot a pistol, dear?"

"It has been...a few seasons," the older woman admitted reluctantly.

"Really? I don't think I've ever seen one in your hand. As amusing as it might be to see the spectacle of you two blazing away at each other, if you don't recuse yourself from this matter, I am going to ask my daughter to join me in calling for a vote of no confidence in your headship."

"You've never acted like you wanted the job before," the eldest accused.

"So now you find ulterior motives in me too?" she sighed. "I've never wanted the job any more than anyone else who is sane. You've just never acted like an idiot before. But when you decide to speak foolishness you don't do it by half measures, you do it twice in as many minutes," the under-Mother counted.

The old woman sat and blinked for a bit, thinking it through. "If you have lost confidence in me over this, I can't see pretending it didn't happen and everything is as before. Neither will I force a vote on the matter," she said voice strained. "I'll make myself useful in accounting and such. You poll among the women and consult the men what their feelings are and pick a third. It's time for me to retire."

"I'll consult you too," the younger one said. Which was as good as saying she accepted the resignation.

The eldest got up and walked away without looking back.

"Well girl, your freedom to speak has certainly made for a whirlwind entry, hasn't it?" The new head lady remarked to Lee.

"No ma'am, I can't see that," Lee told her quizzically.

"I'm almost afraid to ask, but could you tell me why not?"

"Yes ma'am, Gordon told me that if someone asked me a question as a child, I could either direct them to ask him as my guardian and they had to accept that, or I could choose to answer. Answering doesn't show you as a child or as an adult. That has to be decided separately. But I could only be held accountable for my words if I'm an adult.

 "Every time I have spoken since I got here was in response to a direct question, including right now and a child or an adult, either one, can do that. I haven't interjected anything into the conversation yet on my own. So I don't feel I've used any adult freedom to speak yet.

"I was backed into a corner. I had to answer, because if I told her to ask Gordon instead of answering, I'd have made it clear I considered myself a child. That would contradict my walking in armed. Your Mother, however, implied she might insist I was a child and yet still hold me responsible for my words. That is contradictory. You simply can't have it both ways."

"That seems... logical," the youngest Mother on the end allowed reluctantly.

Lee thought about thanking her, but decided she was doing better just responding to questions. Suddenly she was overwhelmingly weary. She was still way too fragile emotionally for this kind of confrontation, on top of the hike.

"Gordon," Lee said, tearing up and voice all shaky, "can we just go?"

"Sure Lee. I had no idea you'd get this kind of interrogation. The hill fort we passed is the boundary and the moons are both up tonight. I'll carry you past the saddle to camp and we'll walk to the road in the morning."

"You'd shame us and refuse our hospitality after all this trouble and turmoil over you?" the new head Mother asked incredulously.

"You haven't offered any hospitality," Gordon said bluntly. "Oh, I was offered a beer, but it seems the family is too terrified by what was happening to bring it in. I was bade sit and have some talk and I think I've had enough, thank you."

"What else do you want after making me force the First Mother out?"

"Fool," said a deep voice from the darkening entry. "I may be old and of dubious merit in your eyes, being a mere male, but I have wits enough still to quote the whole shameful dialog I heard, word for word.

"After your Mother left you could have offered a welcome. Remember that word? Since you like to phrase everything in snippy little questions I will too. You might have offered roof and bed, a seat at dinner, or at least a spot to sleep by the hearth like you would a traveling merchant. But what did you say?" It was William the old guard.

"Well, uh, I..."

"Shut up," he bit off, in tones that didn't encourage any argument. "I'll tell you what you said. It was, 'Well, girl, your freedom to speak has certainly made for a whirlwind entry, hasn't it?' - You still put the blame off on her, same as the First Mum. I wasn't aware Gordon needed hospitality offered in his home, but I can see where he'd feel the need tonight. As for his daughter, family is who you treat as such. It isn't by blood, nor by demand, nor debt, unless it's a debt of honor. As Mother I expect you to dispense such as a ruling, now that you've been reminded."

"You don't tell the Mothers what law to make," she said angrily.

William's fur stood off him like he'd taken a static charge. Lee thought he was angry before, but saw now she'd been wrong. He'd been in good humor, compared to what stood before them now. His claws stood fully unsheathed and his ears spread taunt like radar horns. The sudden stillness from the Mothers told her they saw the same danger radiating from him Lee felt. He spoke again, but the softer word by word statement of someone who expected no interruption.

"We males let you run things because your temperament is better suited to it," he reminded her in this odd, quiet voice. "But when you lose your way and shame us, the custom of old has been we can remove you without needing a vote, like the women folk do. Of all people, you shouldn't need to be reminded of that. I speak for posterity; the girl is my kin. Think well if you want to disown her. Maybe it’s time to cull some, if the line is too inbred. Don't press your luck."

He drew the great axe and swung it one-handed, so the blade crashed through the thick plank top of the table and stuck out below a hand's breadth. The whole massive table bounced off the floor from the blow. He left it embedded in front of them, as a reminder of how the headship was culled when the males were forced to do it. As he passed the kitchen door he bellowed, "Get that man a beer, gods all damn it, and a short one for his daughter, or I'll fetch the barrel myself when I come down and open it with my axe instead of your fancy bung! The crowd gathered to eavesdrop at the serving door froze in terror, afraid to move until he stomped off up the stairs.

"I believe William made us an offer it would be pretty hard to refuse," Gordon said softly into Lee's ear. "Could you sit quietly at dinner and we'll go to bed right after? If we're gone when he comes back, he might take it badly," he warned. "I'd hate to be responsible for that. He honors you as a champion. If they reject you, they reject him. That would be - dangerous."

The beer appeared before them at a run, the server still visibly worried.

"Yeah, I'm tough. I can do it. Don't you dare say anything about stringy," Lee warned.

"Lee," the eldest Mother addressed her, ignoring the quiet by-play. "I am corrected and genuinely extend hospitality. It is exactly as William says, family are those whom we treat as such. We extend such treatment to you. I have said it," she said formally, raising her voice, looking about even though there were few witnesses, but enough a few acknowledgments came back. Gordon also muttered a low "I hear."

"I won't keep snipping at you and I'll try not to phrase everything in gods-be-questions. The Mother sighed. "Gods blighted miserable details, I don't even have a customary name for dealing with Humans," she lamented.

"Why don't you just show me how your folk address you," Lee offered. "I'm not as clueless as most Humans and can even learn the long-form names if needs be."

"Why don't you just have her say First Mum, and Second Mum for your daughter? That's how they'd describe you in the kitchen if you ordered something to the table. It's a short form, but nothing disrespectful," Gordon suggested.

"Fine, it's simple and one less thing to ponder." First Mum agreed.

About the time their beer was gone dinner started being served. The servers looked a little rattled until William returned and sat on the other side of Lee from Gordon, but they calmed as the peace held. If it wasn't his usual spot nobody asked him or them to move. His axe was surrounded by dishes and ignored there like a centerpiece. Nobody seemed in a hurry to see it back in his hand.

Chapter 12

Lee was confused and didn't know where she was in the morning. Part of that was she was carried away from supper asleep again. That's why she was dressed still, with even her boots on. She was with Gordon, so that was enough to make her feel safe, even if it was some strange room she'd never seen before. The wall was plaster and a geometric design was scratched in it before paint was rubbed on the tops of the pattern. It looked a little like an African fabric she'd seen in a book. Somehow she was sure this was something the men did, not the women.

It was still not very light out. She could see the open window, pale with bluish light of dawn, but the smell of bread and some sort of meat cooking was strong. Lee was content to stay still and listen to the faint noise of work and murmur of voices and try to figure out what was happening. The sharp sounds of crockery bumping and much of the speech were clearly from the kitchen. It must be close outside the open window. It was cool in the room, but she had a blanket draped over her from behind and snuggled against Gordon, who radiated heat like the morning coals of a banked campfire.

A polite tapping came at the door, too polite, Gordon didn't stir at all.

"Lights up," Lee commanded and nothing happened.

"There isn't any general access household computer and if there was there are no lights of the sort it would control," Gordon explained, awakened. "Come in," he called, loud enough to be heard outside the door. He stretched in place.

The young female who entered showed surprise they were sleeping together and then quickly covered it up. Her eyes remained on the window though and she seemed as surprised it was open to the chill as their sleeping arrangement.

"Youngster, come here please," Gordon asked her nicely.

"Have I offended you, Sire?" she asked timidly.

"Not at all - daughter - he said awkwardly. Do you have a short name you want Humans to use?" Gordon asked.

"I have never known one before, but I thought if I did I'd go by Rebecca. The short form of it, 'Becca, is nice too. I like the sound of either if it would please you to accept one. The Mothers, of course, could tell me to use another, if they hear and don't care for it."

"I don't know that I'm any sire, Rebecca. It's been fifteen years since I've been home and if I had left a legacy you'd think the dame would have told me, but I appreciate the honorific. I can tell our ways are strange to you, it was written plain on your face, even though you were entirely proper with us. I fear you'll think poorly of us. Would you like to know the why of it?"

"I don't have any right to question you, but if you are offering freely yes. I apologize for my face. I should be old enough to control it. But why is your daughter sleeping with you like a little child who is afraid of the night? I'd think you'd want your privacy visiting home. And why do you sleep in the chill, when you have a room with a fireplace and a wood box that will be filled for you?" Rebecca asked.

That made Gordon smile. "I've been exploring on worlds that were both hot and cold and in vessels with poor environmental systems. I've grown used to ignoring it. I'm near like our ancestors who lived in the forest and were content with a pile of leaves in a hollow to winter over, or a dip in the stream in the heat of the day. I have to hide how amused I am, when a youngster like you says it's chill, when there isn't even ice on the pond. It seems to me the whole clan is getting as soft as Earth Humans. As to Lee sleeping with me - would you care to tell her your story Lee, or do you want to keep it private?"

"I can tell her," Lee volunteered, but then sat silent a moment composing herself. As she recounted it Gordon was glad to see how calm she stayed. He was afraid she wasn't ready yet, but she didn't break down, didn't cry. He hadn't heard her memory of the day recited, so it was interesting to get her viewpoint.

The young Derf had horror grow on her face, as the tale of the dino attack progressed. "I don't know how I'm going to sleep tonight, after hearing that. I'll lay there waiting for something to come snuffling around my bed and try to carry me away," she shuddered.

"Tell your dorm mates with sufficient drama, Rebecca, and one will probably stay awake all night and keep a light going for you," Gordon laughed.

"You don't mind if I repeat the story?" Rebecca asked, surprised.

"No, I'd tell anyone that asked," Lee said, "though I might get tired of telling it. But I'm glad I told you if it helps you not think too badly of me. If anybody feels it makes me weak to be afraid in the dark - well - if they've been in a bag with monsters trying to rip their way in to eat them - I'll accept their judgment."

"Huh, you won't hear any more out of me," Rebecca promised. "I'll stay here where First Mum's temper is all I have to worry about and leave the far-roaming to you. They sent me to let you know breakfast is cooking, if you want to clean up before."

"Thanks, I didn't think to set an alarm so we appreciate it," Gordon told her. "I'll set one to repeat every morning until we are on our way."

"Do you know how long that will be?" Rebecca asked Gordon. "I'll let the kitchen know, so they can make an allowance every day and tell them if you have something special you want to be cooked."

"Why? Are the bets favoring us hitting the road today, or do they give us a few days?"

"Gordon! What a terrible thing to say!" Lee exclaimed, embarrassed.

"Most think you'll stick around for two days, but only William thought you'd be here a week. Just a few people predicted you'd leave this morning," Rebecca admitted.

"See?" Gordon asked."Gossip is free and everybody's hobby, Lee. Very seldom do they have this much to talk about. The high office passed and Third Mum is up for grabs. Some of the folks here have never seen a Human. William doesn't commonly threaten to put the Mothers to the axe and after fifteen years just having me back home would be a topic of much discussion. They have a lot to talk about."

"Just having someone back home who has been away to work for cash in Fish Town for a couple of years is a big deal," Rebecca assured them. She looked at the closed door like somebody might overhear and dropped her voice. "Nobody here would ever dare speak to the senior Mum like you did, right or wrong, much less intimate it within their thoughts to shoot her dead. More than a few are scared of you now, for all you're a tiny thing. Not to mention you had the Great Champion proclaim Himself kin. Good for you girl! I have to go set the lanterns out to charge, but I'll see you at breakfast." She hurried back to work.

"So, you'd have some females volunteering to cozy up with you if you didn't have me to babysit," Lee observed after Rebecca left. "I didn't know how Derf handled such things," she said, with a vague and uncomfortable wave of the hand. "I can sleep by myself if you want your privacy like Rebecca seemed to expect." The whole thing was obviously a bit embarrassing to her.

"Lee, you are just old enough to be aware of such things, but still too young to understand how it works in Human or Derf society. When you are older we'll talk about it. But you aren't stopping me from doing anything. If I wanted to accept the offers any visiting clan member gets, I could find time in the day to go off someplace private. The sort who might interest me aren't tied to working in the field all day. Derf aren't all that different than Humans from my experience and talking to your folks. They are just a bit more matter of fact about it. The way things have gone, I'm just as happy to stay too busy and tied up to accept any offers," Gordon said, shaking his head at the memory of yesterday.

"It would take forever to explain the social dynamics, but such favors don't come without obligations. It gives the Mothers a big lever to pressure you to increase your support of the clan substantially. Or even try to tell you to take a break from the outside world and come back home for a decade or so to help raise your cub.

"It's nice to be home after years, but I'm thinking a week is about as much nostalgia as I can stand. You see how the Mothers try to keep everybody firmly under their thumbs. You want to hang around here for a few years, to learn all the politics, and fit into this big happy family?"

Lee thought about how everybody tippy-toed around the Mothers and fled in terror when the First Mum displayed some temper. "Maybe a day short of a week would be enough. I don't even want anybody thinking we enjoyed it too much." She had a sudden thought. "Is a Derf week seven days, like Humans?"

"Yes," Gordon said, amused again. "The same, because weeks are a Human invention we adopted. Used to be we counted season days, similar to your quarters, but once the traders set up, we got used to them saying it was Sunday, or Thursday, or whatever. They'd say something unthinking like, 'Can you get that to us by Friday?' so pretty soon we were using it too. It offended some of the older ones, but all the young people act like we've always used weeks. It's a totally artificial system for us because we use a base twelve math."

"The really old history that dad had me study, said some of our early civilizations used base twelve and now we use base ten or two. I don't know where anybody came up with seven days for a week. It doesn't seem to mesh with any way of counting," Lee said.

"Maybe it was just as long as anyone could work really hard without needing a day off," Gordon speculated. "Come on, I'll show you the community bathhouse and make sure you don't drown getting washed up."

A naked Human drew astonished stares, but Lee didn't mind. She knew she must look ridiculous to them, with all her bare skin. In the morning chill fur seemed like a pretty good idea. They soaped up and rinsed with a hose. The big tub looked inviting. Big enough for her to do laps even, but that was for the evening. If they lingered now they'd miss eating.

Breakfast was a leisurely affair for about sixty, back in the big room they'd first come in when they arrived. There were almost as many serving the ones seated and a steady stream of workers going through, who grabbed a combination breakfast and lunch pail and took off to parts unknown. A few sat off by the wall and read hardcopy, or in just a few cases had book readers turned on, studying the small screens. Gordon grabbed a plate and Lee copied him. They set to the side by the wall and nobody noticed or seemed to feel it a snub.

"If you only have the one phone, how do the people with readers get their downloads?" Lee wanted to know, seeing them used. Somebody stopped and served them meat off a platter.

"Whoever is the First Mum uses the phone to download overnight and the workers who need crop reports, or a weather forecast, or whatever, pick up their reader and drop it off at night, to have fresh files loaded. Mum keeps a dock rack on the one computer like a small office would use." Gordon said.

"It can't cost that much to have five or six sat phones and spread the work around. I mean you must have school lessons to load and people will want music and entertainment. How do they access the local web mirror, if they want to look something up?" Lee asked.

"If you need to research something you ask one of the Mothers. If they agree they will do a search and print the results out for you. It's the same with school lessons. They find what material they deem suitable and have hard copy lessons printed out. Some things like math, they will save the hard copy to use for several years. Some things they make their own lesson plans. A lot of teaching here is like an apprenticeship. You work under an experienced master to learn a trade and if you don't need calculus to make roof tiles, you don't get it." Gordon said.

There was some sort of grilled vegetables and a bowl of hot cereal that appeared at her elbow. Lee could see they stopped serving you if you pushed your plate to the center of the table.

"But what if you just want to explore from one link to another and find interesting stuff?" Lee asked. It seemed so awkward.

"Data service, as an entertainment, is something the Mothers would find too foreign to imagine," Gordon said, patiently. "It has to serve some purpose the household needs. Maybe two or three of these youngsters will go to university and they will study something like accounting or agricultural science, that the family needs. They school those kids extra, but if somebody is going to be a hunter or a carpenter, they go to work after about six years of schooling."

"But," Lee started and then looked around like she was aware she might be overheard. "It's about control isn't it?"

"You're starting to understand. Just like this," Gordon said, and held some invisible thing down on the tabletop with his massive thumb. "If one of the Mothers decides you aren't doing a good job you turn in your reader at night and the next morning they issue it to somebody else. No fuss. No way to look at data yourself and offer suggestions on better ways to do things. Also, there is no way to see somebody else is doing a lousy job and complain about it. That's for the Mothers to decide, not workers."

"But if you have some really bright kid, who might be an artist, or scientist, or something, you'd never even know, because he can't study whatever he wants and he'll never grow," Lee objected. "You'd just throw that talent away."

"Out here, yeah," Gordon agreed. "It's pretty much the same in all the clan keeps, but not in the cities. Don't forget, cities are new to us. We had a few small towns that weren't clan keeps, on trade routes or harbors, but mostly the fortified and remote seats of clan power were our only cities, until after the landing. By the time I was your age the trade cities were growing haphazardly, new cities that had Humans and traders and didn't belong to any one clan. When that happened we had somewhere to go, if we didn't want to stay at home and do what we were told."

"That's what you did?" Lee asked.

"Yep, when it came time to be apprenticed I was supposed to be a cooper and furniture maker," Gordon said, with obvious distaste. "I got up the morning I was to start with him and told my master I was going to town. He was OK, I had nothing against him. I just wanted to go off-world and nothing here would lead to that. I didn't discuss it with the Mothers, because they would have just ridiculed me. I just walked out the way we came in, with a bow, a single bit axe, a pair of boots, a water bag, the fire starter, and such any boy carries in the backcountry. It was spring, but I had a winter cloak I rolled up, because that was about all I owned and I didn't know if I'd ever come back. I took some leftover breakfast for the road. Took me three days to walk to where we stayed at the inn. I foraged and shot a few small animals for food along the way."

"How old were you?" Lee wondered, trying to picture all this.

"I was seventeen. That's about sixteen Earth years and that's pretty much equivalent to where you are for a Derf, as far as development and maturity. But I was old enough to know I didn't want to make barrels and chairs all my life. I stopped by the same inn we used, but I didn't stay there, didn't have the money to stay there, not even a few coins to buy a beer to talk to the crowd in the evening. There were a few houses around the inn even back then, although not as many as today. I asked around until I found somebody who would give me work, so I could buy an adult knife before I went to a bigger town.

"A fellow who brewed for the inn hired me to carry and crack grain and that sort of rough labor. Paid me my board and let me sleep in his outbuilding. After a month he gave me an old fighting knife, with a guard and sheath to hang it. Then he talked me into staying another month and getting some cash money before going into the city. He talked a good bit of sense to me, so I didn't get cheated or robbed in the city. That was worth more than the knife or the cash money. It helped me not look like a clueless country boy quite so badly." Gordon pushed his plate away, even though he'd been doing most of the talking. So Lee hurried to finish up her own plate.

"Would you like to go see the memorial I told you about?" Gordon offered. "That will get us out from underfoot here for most of three days."

"If we have to go back out on the mail truck let's wait until we leave for good," Lee said.

"No, First Landing is on Red Tree's land, so we'll have a little hike and we'll need to camp overnight. We might as well do it while the dry weather is holding," Gordon said.

"Sure, let's do it," Lee agreed. Why didn't he tell her Humans landed on Red Tree territory? That seemed important. Did that mean it was his clan that first met Humans? If it was, why didn't he say so? It bugged her when people were needlessly secretive.

Chapter 13

The path they took followed a stream north into the hills, parallel to the distant mountains. The trees grew bigger and the bark was a different color, but the red of the tribal name showed in the cracks between the scales it displayed. The fallen leaves, very similar to Earth pine needles, were so thick on the ground they suppressed any undergrowth and the only clue Lee could see to mark the path was that dead under limbs were sheared off the trees on each side, as far up as a Derf could reach with an axe. If you stood back and looked, the path was a barely discernible tunnel through the woods, marked by an absence of dead limbs overhead and the carpet of needles below lacked the usual loose scattering of sticks and seed pods. The dead needles were a deep red and the live ones a bluish-green. It made for a very dark woods.

When they were beyond any sign of habitation Gordon stopped and gave Lee a lesson for the day. He demonstrated the high stepping rolling walk he used in a stalk and challenged her to find a gait for herself that would be as silent. After much effort and little success she stopped and pulled her shoes off, hanging them around her neck. In her stocking feet she was doing much better. She would do well for a while and then fatigue and walk normally until she was no longer cramped up. It strained muscles she swore had never been used, to control her steps so closely.

Gordon had a small pack with a ground cloth and some food. He also carried the first Derf bow she had seen. It was so short it looked a toy in his hands, but the recurved arms were so thick she didn't see how it could bend. The ends curved so sharply they actually reversed direction briefly, before twisting opposite in a tight little arch. The bowstring rode slack with the loops still over each arm. The end of each was a small knob with a groove carved from the front over the end. The arrows had metal shafts that wore a dull finish and looked impossibly long for the tiny bow.

They crossed dips and hollows, but it was obvious the path was tending up more than down. The stream might be lost from sight for a while, but its murmur was always there. A few times she saw something fly through the canopy, but it was always just a dark shape, against the few bright points of sky shining through. She never saw them, but other things rustled in the treetops and sent an occasional twig or seed pod down.

Toward midday, they turned to climb down to the stream. She looked ahead and the trail went on as the dead limbs were still trimmed ahead in a tunnel, but they left it here and descended. There was a great chain across the stream of some copper alloy, the links as big as both her hands brought together, a greasy dark blue on the outside, and a deep green patina on the inside. It was set in a sturdy eyelet that seemed cast into the rocky foundations of the hill itself.

Gordon invited her to his shoulders and crossed with uncharacteristic caution, both lower hands on the chain. The cold water reached to his lower arms, rocking him on his slippery footing and splashing up on Lee's legs. On the other side, Lee hurried out of range, as he shook the water off like a dog. They continued along the stream on the opposite bank, Gordon looking down as if he was looking for something. "Pick a pebble," he encouraged Lee. "Make it a nice one, something memorable. You'll need it at the site," he said mysteriously. She watched until she saw a pure white pebble, flawless and even in shape, and pocketed it without quizzing him.

"When you move in the woods being silent isn't enough," Gordon continued her lessons. "Movement attracts the eye and you must learn to move smoothly. When you peek out from behind cover or turn your head it should be slowly. If you get caught in the open and don't want to be seen, first hide your face. The brain is programmed to pick out faces and eyes. You dip your head, or turn it aside and then slowly melt to the ground like a piece of ice melting. If you roll up in a ball and imitate a rock, sometimes you can avoid being seen even in an open field."

"Or in your case, imitate a small hill," Lee teased him, snickering.

Toward sunset, they turned off the path and went up a short climb to a camp, with a lean-to shelter and a fire pit, set in a clearing among a few scrubby trees instead of the surrounding giants. There was a doubled tarp over the lean-to, that could be folded down to close the front in really bad weather, a firewood carrier spread upside down, to keep the rain off the kindling and a tripod joined at the top by a ring, for hanging a pot over the fire. Gordon spread the ground cover in the shelter and tossed his pack on the corner to weigh it down. Lee dumped her shoes on the opposite corner.

"I'll start a fire," Gordon volunteered. "The reason they put the shelter up here is the bedrock sticks up here too much for tree trash to accumulate. There's just rock and a little bare dirt and gravel. Down below the tree needles can be a meter deep. You don't want to get a fire in the ground cover, because it can burn for years. Custom is we leave wood for the next fellow, just like someone did for us," he pointed out the stack. "If you would go get some dead branches while we have light, that would be a big help."

The dead branches were gone as high as a Derf could reach, almost two hundred meters downhill from the camp. Finally, she found a long narrow clearing of trees, blown down in some great storm, that would supply more than she could carry. She was short of breath at this altitude and dropped the canvas carry sling and single bit hatchet at her feet and sat on a boulder to rest before trying to cut wood.

The woods were not quite still, the wind a constant murmur in the treetops, even when it didn't reach the ground. A few of the flying creatures flicked through the treetops, dark shadows that stayed there and didn't venture over her clearing. In the woods, some small creature chattered an angry warning that made her look up. There was a movement that caught her eye at the far tree line. She watched and then there was a tiny flash of light off something artificial, some small surface of glass or metal, and then she lost it in the shadows again.

Unsure of what was friendly or not, she slid down the boulder slowly just like Gordon had told her to move and went around the rock on hands and knees. The wood carrier was a coarse fabric like canvas with loop handles and she reached between the boulder she'd sat on, and its bigger companion, pulling it through the dip between them. The hatchet slid out on the ground, but too far away to reach. Only the very edge was shiny so she left it and draped the sheet of coarse fabric over her head and shoulders, leaving a dark tunnel hiding her face as she peered low from between the stones.

Several more times she saw movement, if not a shape, skirting the clearing. The woods were dense enough there were only a few speckled bright spots that reached through them, from the setting sun. Something dark would obscure a few of those bright dots as it moved along the edge of the woods. Then after moving well past her, a Derf dared to cross the clearing and stepped fully into view, marching along steadily, oblivious to the scolding animals, but looking about the clearing with some care.

Lee abandoned the Derf sized wood carrier as too bulky to carry stealthily but slid over the gap in the boulders with a hand braced on each side to retrieve the hatchet. The lone Derf was headed straight towards their camp and Lee was determined to follow, thinking of her uncle Gordon alone. There was a sneaky quality about this Derf she didn't like, avoiding the clearing and peering about with a look she would have labeled skulking in a Human. That an omnivore the size of a small ground car didn't need a forty-six- kilogram little girl as backup never entered her mind.

It was getting dark quickly in the woods and she had to hurry faster than she liked to get the Derf back in sight. Lee slowed down when he was just an indistinct area of movement in the shadows ahead, trying to keep a tree between her and the big fellow. She'd stop when she came to the tree she was using for cover, to catch her breath and flex her toes that were cramping up from the rolling gait she'd adopted. She'd lean low and look around the trunk slowly, then move on an angle to put another big trunk between her and the Derf, moving toward it as fast as she could without making noise.

It was tiring, walking silently, and slightly uphill at that. The deepening dark was making it difficult to avoid stepping on twigs and seed pods that would make noise. This wasn't exactly the path she'd come down herself, but as long as they were headed back uphill, they had to be headed to the camp on the summit, if they didn't turn off. If he did turn off, Lee would keep going uphill, because it would be too dark to see her way soon and if she followed him she'd be stranded until morning. She'd left her light in camp - a mistake she wouldn't repeat.

A couple of times the Derf stopped and she caught up closer than she intended, but he never looked behind, instead sheltering behind a big tree and scanning the woods ahead of him. When he slipped around his tree and hurried forward, she'd do the same.

When at last he slowed down the woods behind them was almost black and the light ahead was from where the camp clearing opened up, about fifty meters ahead of the Derf. Lee could smell the smoke from Gordon's fire and was glad she'd followed this fellow. He wasn't calling out or marching forward openly and she didn't think that spoke well of honest intentions.

The stranger was in better lighting now, as the cover thinned out on the summit and she was in deepening shadow hanging back. Lee could see he carried a lot more gear than Gordon. He had a ruck and a lot of pouches, as well as a weapon that looked like a carbine in his big hands, though it would be too heavy for her to handle. She didn't especially like how he was carrying that, as if he was ready to use it, and quietly unfastened the flap on her holster.

He inched forward giving her a good lesson in the things uncle Gordon had been teaching her. He moved quietly from cover to cover, almost disappearing when leaning against a tree with his cinnamon coat. All his equipment was dull and muted colors, she noticed.

At last, he stopped. Then, after craning his neck around looking at something, he started slowly backing up. When he turned and walked back into the woods Lee had to hurry to turn and duck around her tree, until she could see his ruck on his back from the opposite side. She stayed sideways, slowly circling the tree in the opposite direction to keep his back in view. He walked away on an arc to the left. It didn't take long to see he was making a loop, on a different approach to the camp.

Her heart was beating fast and she was breathing through her mouth trying to keep from making gasping noises. When he turned around he'd almost caught her. She actually had a flash of irritation with him, that he'd let a complete novice in the woods like her get away with following him. Didn't he ever look behind? Then the chilling thought struck her, that she hadn't looked behind herself on the whole long stalk. Lee turned slowly, correcting that error, but the dark woods were empty and silent to her relief. She carefully cataloged that as another mistake not to make again.

Lee also circled around the camp, closer to the edge, very aware she was silhouetted against the lighter clearing now and using the trees carefully. They were stunted and wind-sculpted here, compared to the straight massive trunks just a hundred meters downhill, but they had low branches and bushes to hide behind, that were absent in the deep woods. Even with the extra care, she kept up with the stranger because her path was so much shorter than his. In fact, she lost sight of the Derf a few times. When he started coming back in she could just see the lean-to on her left.

The fellow approached the lean-to slowly, stopping to look around and Lee stayed behind the tree she was using, only leaning out enough to keep an elbow or the edge of his ruck in sight to locate him.

When he was leaning over peering into the shelter Gordon materialized from the woods behind the fellow, so suddenly it made her start.

"Hello, neighbor, nobody home you see," Gordon said, forcing his voice to be fake-friendly.

The cinnamon coated fellow straightened up slowly. The muzzle of his weapon was turned to his left, pointing into the shelter, exactly opposite Gordon. He didn't make any move to swing it around.

Gordon had his lower clawed hand firmly around the shank of his axe, right under the head. It was still tucked in his belt, but he could draw and throw it in an instant, even though he had technically not drawn a weapon. His true arms were crossed in a gesture that spoke of irritation, the same as it would in a Human.

"Courtesy and custom would be to have that rifle slung muzzle down across your back when you walk into a stranger's camp, young fellow. Some ill-natured old grumps would put an axe in you, for carrying it at the ready like that," Gordon lectured him.

"That's not one's place to do on another's territory, Red Tree. Blue Stone claims to the river and to me you are the interloper on our land."

"Red Tree claims the watershed clear to the peaks," Gordon counter-claimed. "We have for two thousand years since Wide Leaf clan ceased to exist. The ford-chain binds our banks and if Blue Stone wants to dispute the claim they are welcome to rip the chain out and see if they can live with the consequences. It has been a millennium since the clans have made war, but be assured, we have not forgotten how."

"You talk as if you make law like a Mother. The Mothers can make all the laws they wish, but it's males in the woods who decide if the laws stand. Sometimes, it isn't war parties and armies, but single males who decide who can stay and who best keep out. Today I'd say it boils down to which is faster across ten meters, a bullet or an axe," the youth said.

That made Lee's mind up for her, and she drew her pistol, leaning out slowly to make sure the idiot Derf had not tried to bring the rifle around. She kept the end of it in her view from behind the tree. She didn't think, hoped, Gordon wouldn't let him bring it to bear. As it stood, it looked like an equal standoff to her. It would take about as much time for the rifle to come around and be aimed, as it would for an axe to cross the distance. Her money was on Gordon, but she wasn't sure.

"Besides the fact your Mothers may not be as happy with you as you'd think, bringing the whole land dispute to the fore right now, there are other factors involved you don't know youngster. If you don't let your pride get in the way our grandchildren can argue about the boundary someday. If you miscalculate it won't be a concern to you anymore," Gordon said.

"Oh? Is this where you bluff me with an ally behind me I'm supposed to whirl around to see? You think me a fool."

Lee figured that for an invitation and took the safety off her pistol. She didn't press it down gently; she deliberately snapped it down as hard as her thumb could push. The metallic >SNICK< of it was down-right rude in the quiet woods. The young one's ears twitched hard, then the two Derf were so still for a heartbeat that the safety might as well have been the pause button on a video. Finally, Gordon spoke.

"I would have invited you to camp and dinner, if you'd had some manners young one. But, given your attitude, lay down the rifle and walk away if you want to live. If you have to stumble around in the dark a ways before you bed down that's too bad. You can come back and retrieve your rifle tomorrow. I won't shame you by keeping it as a trophy and sending you home empty-handed. If you can't live with that - well - give it a go and see if you can take me."

The fellow leaned over slowly and laid the expensive rifle carefully at his feet, suddenly humble. "I'll come back after the sun has peaked Elder. No need to hurry away in the morning."

"I wasn't going to," Gordon assured him. "No threats about how you'll get even, cub?"

"No. If I threatened empty-handed I wouldn't blame you for cutting me down. I thank you for my life, Elder." He made a little gesture with his hand Lee had never seen. "I'll leave it for those grandchildren to squabble over the chain. I will not challenge it again."

"That sounds good to me. I won't mention our meeting if you don't," Gordon said. "I was full of youth and all sorts of hormones and territorial aggression once myself."

"Good night to you then Elder," he said, and padded off straight downhill into the dark without looking back.

Lee stepped out as Gordon turned to watch him go. Sticking out of his armpit, where his true hand was tucked under his arm, was the stubby blue barrel of a handgun. The hole in the end was pretty big. He hadn't needed her help at all.

"Well, I'd about given up on you," Gordon allowed, like what had happened wasn't worth mentioning. "I thought I was going to have to walk around the woods with a lantern trying to find you."

"I didn't get any wood. I followed that fellow all the way back to camp and had to leave the carrier down there in a clearing. I can find it in the morning though," Lee said.

"We can find it in the morning. I think that young fellow learned his lesson, but I still don't want you wandering around alone in the morning after our little 'difference'. You mean to say he never spotted you following him?" Gordon asked. It seemed to surprise him.

"No, I walked quietly and moved slow, hiding behind stuff. I kind of used the trees for cover, just making it up as I went along. I mean, most of how to do it is really obvious if you think about it," she said.

"Is it now?" Gordon asked her dubiously. "Huh - that's interesting too. I'd like to hear more about that. Why don't you come in and we'll have some supper? I wish you could have seen his face when you snapped the safety off your pistol. Truth is, for just an awful instant I wasn't any surer than he was, that you weren't going to start blazing away right after we heard the safety come off."

"Oh no, it was just a message, unless he'd tried to turn. Did you know I was there?" Lee asked Gordon.

"Lee, I'm not a green cub like the kid there. I knew exactly where you were."

Chapter 14

The next morning Gordon seemed well-rested and calm. Lee had slept fitfully; worried the young Derf was not as humbled as he'd acted. She could easily picture him slipping back in the dark, intent on cutting their throats as they slept.

After a light breakfast and taking the time to pack everything carefully, they retraced her steps to the windfall and found the wood carrier where she'd dropped it. The two of them had it filled quickly and Gordon slung it over his shoulder one-handed. If he acted unconcerned about the young male returning, she still noticed he carried the fellow's weapon in hand instead of leaving it at the camp.

With the woodpile restored and their duty to the camp fulfilled Gordon leaned the carbine against the back of the shelter where it would be out of any weather blowing up. He also took the precaution of removing all the cartridges from the magazine and dumping them in his ruck. Then with everything they brought loaded, ready to leave, he retrieved a small dark cylinder from the roof of their shelter, slipping it in a pocket without comment as he started back into the woods.

Lee wasn't about to let him get away without explaining.

"What's that Gordon? What did you just put in a ruck pocket?"

"Hmm? What?" he tried to deflect the question with feigned innocence.

"You put something away last. Something you left up there until the very last. Don't play dumb with me. It's really irritating when you do that," Lee said.

"Pocket? Oh, you mean my tin of treats?" Gordon asked. "Rude of me not to offer," he said, hand going in a different pocket and getting a shallow tin of hard candies.

"That's all bright colors and rattles," Lee said, cross with him. "You stuck something away about the same size, all dull and it made no sound."

"Oh it can," Gordon explained, giving up. He produced a flat cylinder with an active camo surface and handed it to her. "It's a sensor pack. I register both of us on it and then it watches and listens and will alert me if something else besides us comes around in the night. Call it an alarm if you like. Military-grade and so expensive the Mothers would swoon to hear it."

"Why didn't you tell me you had this? I'd have slept a whole lot easier," Lee said.

"Maybe it isn't good to sleep too easy. Better you don't think somebody is always going to take care of you. This can be defeated. I can be fooled. Better to learn to sleep lightly and rely on your own senses," Gordon counseled. She had no answer to that and gave the device back.

"How far out does it work?" Was all Lee asked after the lecture.

"Well for something big that is not trying to avoid detection about a kilometer. I saw the cub coming before he passed you at the windfall. Watching you follow him back was sweet," Gordon admitted. "You're doing really well at learning bushcraft for someone not raised on a planet. I have hopes of being able to teach you a number of skills, things that I've despaired of teaching others. You need some native talent to build upon."

"And smaller stuff?" Lee wondered.

"Oh, really little critters, like a nut eater, it will tell you when they are in the line of sight out to a hundred meters or so. Something like a bug it doesn't try to see at all. But it also detects electronic emissions and such, so a person trying to be stealthy has to quiet all his equipment as well as himself. That's surprisingly difficult to do," He explained.

"Why aren't you teaching me to use that kind of stuff too?" Lee asked, still a bit put out with him.

"Oh I will," he agreed. "All in good time. After you learn how to walk quietly and move like a shadow and use cover, all the important stuff that is much harder to learn and doesn't stop working when the battery runs down."

"OK," Lee quietly agreed, feeling reproved by his answer.

* * *

The memorial was only another three hours from the camp, climbing most of the way. "We could have left earlier, pushed a little, and made it here last night," Lee observed

"But Derf don't sleep there," Gordon explained. She could tell he was put off by the idea. "If we camped there it wouldn't be special. It would lose its solitude. It, well, it just isn't done. I guess it isn't a law. I've never heard a Mother proclaim it, but for sure it's firm custom."

"I understand," she said after they walked a bit further, "it's the same thing as when I wanted where mom and dad died to be set aside," she concluded.

Lee wasn't sure what she'd expected. Something a little more structured for sure. The clearing was much the same as when the shuttle had landed, but it had been a natural clearing even then. There were three small circles of rock, to preserve where the landing jacks had left marks on the pasture. Where the massacre happened the main marker was a pillar of dry-set stone, a good ten meters high. What she didn't expect were the bronze plaques for each Earthman, with an accurately detailed head and shoulders bas relief. They were set a bit over eye level for Lee, which was just right for Derf, viewing from a stone bench that surrounded the pillar. The ground was not quite covered with small pebbles between the bench and the stonework.

"When it was being built, each pilgrim who came brought a piece of stone to build the column. Now that it is done we just bring a token," Gordon explained and tossed the pebble he'd carried from the creek with the others on the ground.

Lee pulled her pebble out but seemed reluctant to drop it. Instead, she found a gap between the dry fit stones of the column which had a flat bottom. She pulled the shot glass from her pocket and turned it over the pebble, sliding it in the gap deep enough to be safe from a casual bump or wind. She stepped back and considered the aesthetics of it and nodded in satisfaction. Gordon was sitting on the stone bench and observing her with a poker face. If he disapproved he gave no sign. She climbed up, leaned back against his chest, and let the wind and sun play on her face. She didn't say anything for a long time.

"Gordon?"

"Hmm?"

"You aren't telling me something," Lee complained.

"It would astonish you all the things I have yet to tell you. We haven't had time to start to teach you all you need to know," Gordon said, nuzzling her with his chin.

"No, I mean you're avoiding telling me the story of who in your family was here and killed the Humans. Are you afraid I'll be upset with them, or say something really stupid? Or are they all dead now too? I know whoever drew on the Derf was really an idiot. I thought it was nice none of the plaques here put any blame on him," Lee said.

"The First Mum who just stepped down?" Gordon reminded Lee.

"Yeah, I know which one you mean."

"She was the one who told the Earth lady 'no' when she put her hand to her weapon."

Lee thought about that awhile.

"She wasn't First Mum back then though was she?" Lee asked.

"Oh no, not hardly," Gordon said emphatically. "She was low ranked and would have never sat at the first table, much less became one of the Mothers."

"Then what happened?" Lee prompted him.

"The First Mum back then was an idiot. No, that's not fair," Gordon decided. "If she'd just had to govern a keep and deal with other clans of Derf like so many others before her, she'd have been just fine. But she lacked the imagination to deal with an alien invasion. When the runner came and said there were aliens on our land, she just couldn't grasp the idea of really different people. She was simply uninterested in whether they came from the sky, or the sea, or climbed out of a hole in the ground. Fur, or skin, or purple tentacles didn't matter to her. All that mattered was they were strangers, uninvited on Red Tree land.

"The hunting party asked for one of the under Mums to come and bring trade goods. Instead, she sent the runner back with instructions that the hunting party was to hunt and not presume to challenge her authority by elevating themselves to traders and the strangers were to get off Red Tree land. If they wanted trade they could go to one of the trading towns, like civilized people were supposed to do."

"So she didn't have the flexibility to adjust to a new situation?" Lee guessed.

"Flexibility is not what the Mums are about. I thought you'd see that by now," Gordon said.

"Well yeah, but sometimes things are so different the same old way doesn't work and you have to try a new tack. Like when dinos suddenly get hot-blooded and run in packs, or you come back and your bank is waiting to dump you," Lee threw out for examples.

"But all she could see was her people not doing what they were told. You're going to find a lot of people, both Derf and Human, are like her," Gordon warned. "So self-centered that everything is about them. They just don't have the capacity to examine any event from a wider perspective or another person's point of view. I explained what a sweet deal we got compared to other races dealing with Humans. Yet all she wanted to do back then was disavow the treaty and have the hunters who forged the agreement outlawed - cast out of the clan to have to live in trade cities or off in some wilderness no clan wanted. What the female hunter, in particular, was doing in making a treaty was formulating law. Something all Mums hold dearly for themselves, so that really upset her."

"So what happened?" Lee wondered. "Did the other Mums force her out like we just saw?"

"Remember how William said the males could change the Mums if they were shamed?"

"Yeah?" Lee agreed, twisting her head around to see Gordon tell this part.

"That's what happened. They assassinated the First Mum and installed the huntress. The other Mums, the under Mums, were happy to support her, given the other choice was the axe. It's not something done lightly," Gordon insisted in a sad voice.

Lee thought about that awhile. Something William had said to the First Mum in anger suddenly made sense, but Gordon apparently would stop right there if she didn't demand more of the story. She didn't like having to pry it out of him, piece by piece, but she had to ask.

"So, William is pretty old. Was he the one who axed the First Mum and installed the other?"

"No, William has a different part in this story," Gordon said. "He was the one who threw the first axe, when the Earthie drew a weapon on the hunters. That's hung over him all his life, because he was thrilled to meet a different intelligent people and then it went bad so fast. A lot of people were worried he'd take his own life the first few years after that. He's stayed away from the ports and trading towns, afraid Humans would hate him. It was an older male of the keep, who didn't even meet the Earthies who culled the Mum. He's dead now of age, not of any problem with the Mothers."

"So why was the First Mum so hostile to me? Seems like she was the one opened the door for Humans, for the whole planet. I'd think she would be more comfortable than most at dealing with Humans."

"Comfortable? She was good at dealing with Humans, but never comfortable. She never liked Humans like William. Remember, I grew up in Red Tree, and yet we never had a Human in the Keep all that time. We'd get together with other clans for festivals and trading and they'd tell stories of Humans visiting them. We children always felt cheated that other clans had such exotic visitors and we never had any. The First Mum has to give permission for outsiders to visit and she never would give Humans an OK, neither scientists nor traders, and she never would explain why.

"Some said she did it to shelter William, but she kept them away even when he was off hunting for months in the fall. So the clan that made Derf law on aliens and had first contact, has benefited the least. That's especially rough because it has cost the clan a lot to defend challenges to the law from other clans. We should at least have gotten some sort of favored trading status or something for our efforts."

"Do you have some kind of a Supreme Mum, who rules on the laws the Mothers make?

Gordon looked at her with a very peculiar expression. Maybe he thought she was being flip. "The Mums of each clan are equal. If three of them challenge a law a Mother has laid down, they gather as many Mums as they can get to come and argue the matter. If they still can't agree they choose a male to settle the matter for them, by the axe. William was our champion and had to face three challenges to the treaty from two clans. That's really wrong. They aren't supposed to keep bringing a matter up, but they insisted there was a different reason for each challenge. That was quite the scandal right there."

"The second champion William faced was a Derf twenty years his junior, who was expected to win easily. Then after he killed him he counter-challenged the man's clan for breaking tradition and law right there on the field, with the body still before him and the bloody axe in his hand. He took the fellow's ear he'd killed, since he said they liked barbarous old customs and invited them if they wanted multiple challenges, to send them forward and he'd give them their fill. He said it was necessary to defend Propriety.

"That was a clan called Deep Waters, from across the mountains. Taking the ear upset them so much they had another champion respond to William, so they lost two males in one afternoon as well as the one from another clan. I don't think anybody will ever challenge William again. Not even if he needed a walker to make the field. They'd think it a trick. For sure he settled the idea of multiple challenges.

"He got so angry at their stubbornness that he refused to cut the last one down and instead beat him to death with the flat of his axe. That's pretty tough to do when the other fellow is using the edge to try to kill you, not to mention tired from back to back duels. In fact it is a humiliating way to die. It was kind of ugly, because everybody was afraid to try to stop him, even his own people. He just kept smashing their champion's head with the flat, long after he was dead. It was – messy. When he finally grew tired of it and the blood rage abated, he just looked up, fur all matted with gore and said, "Next?" There were no takers. They still mock Deep Waters with that single word."

"And that's the same William who volunteered to be my champion, when he'd known me all of five minutes?" Lee asked stunned.

"Well, he undoubtedly was giving you credit for being my daughter. We've always gotten along well. Also, I write to him now and then, so he was well acquainted with both you and your parents from my letters. He has reason to feel he knows you much better than just your brief meeting at the gate. He's followed your growing up in some detail."

"Gordon, why did you take me home if you knew Human visitors were not welcome? Didn't you know there would be a scene, just like there was?"

"You're my daughter. That overrides everything. I thought the First Mum was so conservative that family and custom would trump race. Maybe it would have if you hadn't been armed, maybe not. Maybe she would have just found something else to object to, who knows? In any case, it was time for her to go anyway. She has been holding the clan back from any hint of progress for a generation. If I had stayed away because of you, then I'd be losing without even trying. Why assume the worst? It worked out better for everybody this way."

"Not for her," Lee said.

"Yes, for her too," he insisted. "Clan head was a burden she never wanted and couldn't make herself lay down. She did what was good for the clan and our people when she met the Earthies and it's been downhill from then on. Being right once is fine, but it only carries you so far. If I had explained all that before taking you home you'd have been a nervous wreck. Dealing with it spontaneously, just being yourself, you did me proud. My trust in your nature was justified."

Lee decided any further objection after such praise would be ungracious and sat silent.

When the sun was noticeably lower they retraced their steps to the hilltop shelter. The carbine was gone and the wood unused. She slept easier than the night before.

Chapter 15

The keep seemed much as when they left it, but Lee didn't feel as apprehensive coming in as she had leaving. She understood how the clan worked much better and was starting to see how she might have a place in it. But it was probably a good thing they'd be leaving soon. If they stayed she'd be like Gordon and want to change things.

There was a better chance they could make small changes on rare visits, than settling in and being a constant source of conflict. The three-day pilgrimage had given the Mothers time to settle down and discuss the new order of things among themselves too. The First Mum seemed a whole lot more relaxed when they went to breakfast the morning of their fifth day.

"Mum dear," Gordon greeted the First Mum and gave nods to the other two. The new Third Mum was visibly younger and had a light coat very different than the dark color of the older Mothers. It looked like William's suggestion to look beyond close kin had been heeded.

"Lee and I have not cashed out any earnings from this last trip," Gordon said in a voice that didn't carry beyond the first table, maybe not even to the end. "We intend to stop at the bank before leaving Derfhome and arrange an advance against what we anticipate getting when we make landing in the Earth system. We'll leave a contribution toward the clan with your bank. I'm not sure how much it will be," he admitted and the worry was plain to see in the Mothers’ eyes, "but I'm sure it will be more than the previous visit I made and that's for each of us, not just me."

The relief that showed was almost comical. If there had been a breach before, this confirmed it was healed.

"That's fine clan-son. I'm glad fortune has smiled on you to that extent. We need you and the ones that labor in Fish Town and on the boats and such. Without them, we'd have to live by our own hand like we did for generations, without the protection of cash money for hard times. It was hard, back when there was nothing to buy if the hunt was sparse."

That was as much thank you as they were going to get and plenty enough for all Gordon cared. He'd have been embarrassed by a big fuss.

"If you can visit again before another fifteen years it would be good. You will be much the same, but this kin," she nodded at Lee, "won't be recognizable in fifteen years. She's hardly gotten a chance to know any of her family in such a short visit. Be assured you are welcome clan-daughter. Whatever happens out there, if gods forbid something should happen to this clan-son, we still expect you back at our table and any who travel with you, they will be made welcome to guest too. I've said so," she formalized and looked down the table gathering acknowledgments. There was a low chorus of variations on 'I hear' and 'Yes Mother'. That easily it was law.

"I hear too," Lee said as Gordon had coached her. He wasn't sure if she'd be so openly acknowledged, even after William's instructions, but he'd prepared Lee how to respond and that it wasn't quite the right form to say thank you. The ruling would be entered in the day-book by the Third Mum and shared in a monthly letter of births, deaths, and rulings of law to the other clans.

"Would you help me set the lanterns out in the sun to recharge?" Rebecca asked her after breakfast. The lanterns were the sort Humans used for camping, but the Derf adapted to use for interior lighting rather than put a central system in the buildings. It seemed odd to Lee because they went in every room in the keep, to remove the lights to an open knoll that was not shaded. None of the rooms were locked, not even the rooms Rebecca casually mentioned were the private quarters of the Mothers, although a few rooms had the lantern set out in the hall.

It seemed a waste to have someone assigned full time to put them out and then about five hours later start putting them back, but Gordon explained it was much easier than keeping mineral oil lamps, filling them, trimming the wicks, and cleaning the glass. They were happy to only have only one doing it when there used to be three to keep the lamps. If one lamp quit it was less a problem than a central system failing too. There seemed no shortage of hands to do things.

The lamps took as long to do despite Lee helping because Rebecca introduced her to everyone whose path they crossed. Lee suspected that was the real reason for her helping.

By supper, Lee was sweaty and dusty enough to need a bath and fresh clothing before eating. In the privacy of their room, Gordon lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone and informed her, "You know, the First Mum really made a break from previous custom for you this morning. It's her prerogative to say who can guest in the keep and she gave you the right to drag anybody you choose back with you and they won't be turned away. That's a really big deal."

"Then we should be nice to her," Lee decided. "We should be generous with the funds we transfer to the clan."

"Agreed," Gordon said, hesitating. "The hard part with that is deciding how much we can give without overdoing it. We could make the others that support the clan feel like what they do is pointless. We don't want to dishearten them."

"What did you give before?"

"When I came back from the water world find, I had to use most of my funds to buy in with your parents. The investors in that expedition were a mixed lot so the payout was too." I gave them thirty thousand euromarks, ten thousand dollars Ceres and ten thousand North American dollars and a thousand rand.

"That's all since you've been away?" Lee asked dismayed.

"No, no. I've sent funds to their bank now and again, whenever I had extra to spare. I didn't just give them some when I visited. We can do that too. No need to give them everything all in a lump. We can send some from time to time."

"Good. Let's get to supper before we're the last ones staggering in."

* * *

"We'll be leaving in the morning," Gordon told the Mothers near the end of dinner. "If you have anything to send to Earth we have unused capacity and will carry it for the clan free."

"Thank you. Nothing the clan is trading in is exported. If we find something advantageous do you know when you'll be back?" The eldest asked.

Gordon spread his true hands in a very Human gesture of indecision. "No idea at all."

"Then I doubt we'll look very hard for something to trade direct. It might sit so long waiting for transport, that the tied up value overcomes the cheap shipping," The First Mum decided.

"I can see that, too bad you don't already deal in something to Earth," Gordon said.

"Mum?" The newest young Mother of their trio spoke hesitantly.

"Yes, dear?" Her superior allowed.

"If you have free transport, might you not buy goods here where they are cheap and still make out well selling them on Earth?"

"If we knew the market and had time," she said, giving the new member an appraising look. "You, Gordon, are you straight for your ship and away?" The First Mother asked.

"No, Mum. We have to do banking and post public documents. I know we have a ten cubic meter hold open. Send anything you please that will fit that volume to the yard, care of High Hopes, and it will be accepted."

"Well then daughter, research what sort of goods are common to Earth trade and see if you can buy them at a good price. We don't want to speculate on something novel, being new to it, just something already known to have a market. If it can be done quickly speak to me before supper and we will buy the goods and have them forwarded. You need to find an Earth agent too. We are presuming on kin's kindness already for transport. No need to make him search about and haggle to dispose of it too."

"Thank you, Mum, I'd get right on it," their newest Mother said, pleased as could be.

"First Mum?" Lee inquired.

"Yes, Lee?"

"When Gordon and I walk out we will pass a watchtower on a hill, that looks down on the saddle that is on the edge of your territory. Might we be allowed to walk up and look at it? I am told by Gordon it is special and would treat it with every sort of respect. I know Earthies have asked to dig there, but we wouldn't disturb anything."

"That would be refreshing," she said, unaccountably smiling, "there is a millennium of youngster's names and dates scratched in the stone. The walls haven't fallen over yet from that, so I doubt you could add much harm."

"Thank you, Mum. To do that I'd feel like a," she stopped because there was no word in Derf for what she wanted to say. "Uh, in English we'd say vandal."

"Don't worry about it. I've seen the names of Clan Mothers on the walls from when they were ten-years-old or so. In a way, it has become part of the tower's history too." She seemed amused and considered Lee with the oddest expression. "Are you done eating?"

"Yes Ma'am, uh I mean Mum," she said switching back to Derf.

"Come then, you too Gordon and I'll show you something."

The First Mum stood and exited to the kitchen. They followed with no idea where she was going. Everywhere she went the workers stopped what they were doing long enough to see if she was there for them. Lee could read Derf faces enough she was pretty sure the commonest expression was one of relief when they marched past. She turned right in the kitchen, which was the side that went deeper into the hill on which the original keep sat. The door she went through was open, but it was copper and about as thick as Lee's hand was wide.

"Watch your head," Mum warned Gordon.

The hallway was a tunnel, chipped in stone, with dark storerooms on each side. Enough light came from the hall to see there were foodstuffs on shelves, or in bags on raised pallets. The hall was big to Lee but tight for two Derf to pass, which they did with kitchen workers carrying things out. After another door, it got wider and the stone was natural, not chipped out. It was cool and there were features of a natural cavern, to the point the path they were on was forced to curve around stone shapes too big to remove easily.

The last door they came to was a copper alloy also. So dark with the matte patina of age it was almost black, but with a hint of green and the floor was tainted green from when the metal sweated and dripped in some distant past. There were weapon ports set on each side with some sort of plugs in them from the other side and a huge grill filling a window in the top part of the door, with bars as big around as her wrists. The window had a backing plate the same material as the door. It also had something Lee was starting to doubt the Derf had invented - a lock.

The First Mum reached overhead in the irregular stone above the door and produced a key. It was bright brass or bronze and looked exactly like the icon of a key Lee was used to seeing on her computer screen, but had never seen in real life. It was Derf sized of course, with a twenty-millimeter diameter rod, terminating in a fancy handle about the size of a tea saucer. The other end had a flat plate riveted in a notch in the rod. It had complicated steps and notches on all three sides.

As she turned it, the sound of a heavy catch withdrawing sounded first by the floor, mid-door by the keyhole, and then overhead. It wasn't a door anyone was going to kick down. Not even Gordon. The Mum grabbed one of several rechargeable lanterns sitting to the side. Gordon grabbed one too, and she made no objection. Lee didn't bother since she intended to stick close to them. There was a definite cool breeze in her face through the door. The floor inside was sand and had been raked smooth. Since there was no rake visible any footprints would document who entered. Given most Derf went barefooted indoors, it was as effective as a camera surveillance system, as every footprint was unique.

There was a paper logbook at a Derf desk and a couple of chairs. The First Mum felt no need to sign in and didn't suggest they do so. It appeared that was for different circumstances than a casual visit by the Mum. A rack ran down the left wall. Nothing here was anachronistic like the paper log-book. It was filled with about half a hundred heavy battle rifles, like the one William carried to guard the keep gate. Shelves under the rack carried battle packs of ammo and packs and harnesses pre-loaded with magazines. Shelves on the other side held pistols of various sizes and cleaning equipment and accessories.

Past the weapons, there were pegs and lockers, with body armor and helmets. Each set of armor was festooned with things like binoculars and night vision sets, utility knives, and canteens. To the right was a small gunsmith bench with tools and racks of spare parts. A very small collection of heavy weapons stood against the wall end to the right. A stack of anti-armor rocket launchers and Derf portable anti-air missiles were propped against the wall with a pair of lasers that were Derf portable, but definitely not man-portable.

The hall terminated in another door. "This isn't what I wanted to show you," the First Mum indicated all the modern weaponry with an inclusive gesture. She opened the next door with the same key that opened the front door.

"You mentioned the Earthie scientists wanted to dig up all around the watchtower. They went on and on about how they can screen the dirt and come up with all sorts of discarded artifacts. They imagined they'd find a few arrowheads and bits of broken pottery and such. The last time the tower was removed from service the Mothers went through with broom and basket and didn't leave so much as a bottle stopper or a nail, much less metal that is too precious to leave it to rot away over the years, even more so then than now. Here's what they imagined they'd be finding," she chuckled in amusement.

The light gleamed off baskets of bronze arrowheads and racks of gleaming golden swords. Derf sized suits of armor looked surprisingly like the bulletproof ones they'd seen out front, but these were chain mail of golden-colored links, with solid plates reinforcing critical areas. Helms with chained chin straps and enameled decoration sat on top of fantastic shields, studded with bronze rivets and enameled panels of art.

On the wall were racked firearms, but these had bronze barrels and falling blocks to close the breech. Some even had ramrods to load them from the muzzle. A few of the pistols were small enough Lee might actually be able to lift them. Firing them would be an entirely different matter. Only a few pieces showed the silvery gray gleam of steel. The light failed to show how far back the natural cavern extended.

"I've never seen any of this," Gordon said in wonder, more to Lee than the Mum. Obviously, the First Mum would know it was new to him.

"You left two years before we start giving the males military training or you'd have seen this. You have to fill out big enough to fit the gear and we want our soldiers to have some maturity before we start them in on training that can get folks hurt. We haven't had a war in twelve hundred years, but that doesn't mean we don't retain the capacity. If you had a neighbor get suddenly aggressive that would not be the time to call up an arms dealer and ask for a catalog."

"Wow, this is great stuff," Lee gushed. "I bet no museum on Earth has as nice a collection of antique weapons.

"The First Mum who just stood down talked about scrapping all this old junk out for the metal. She thought the junk dealer would give a few thousand euromarks for the copper, if it was all stripped of the wood and fitting. It took a lot of stubborn resistance to keep her from doing something that stupid. So you see from such judgment, that it was time for her to step down over many other matters besides you."

"Scrap?" Lee said a bit too loud in the stone walls. "That would be criminal. There are Earth museums that would kill to have one item from this room. You'd get more for one item as an antique, than the whole lot as metal. If you want to make some money off them, just let them bid on a few items at auction. But you don't want to let them know what a treasure trove you have. Like those brass muskets there. You must have thirty of them all the same, but if you sold just one they wouldn't be any the wiser that it wasn't a unique artifact."

"Interesting, but do you think that would be honest to sell one and not disclose there are others?" The First Mum asked.

"Sure, I think it would be honest unless you know you are going to flood the market later with the others and drive down the value of the one they bought. You aren't in any great rush to get rid of all of them like that, are you? You've held them all these years. Why can't you wait years, decades even, and maybe sell some of the others to different worlds? The colony worlds in time will have money for luxuries like museums."

"Indeed, we are in no hurry at all," the First Mother agreed. "We will want to choose very carefully and not sell off anything we'll regret letting go later. Perhaps some of the duplicate items, such as the muskets you mentioned. But the armor with the enameling, for example, each piece is unique and has a history worth keeping it."

"Maybe you could build your own museum," Lee said, getting enthused about the idea. "I can see a guided tour for small groups, fifteen or twenty people who would be guided around the watchtower and the keep. Explain the history to them and maybe do some simple reenactments for them. I'd love to see Gordon in reproductions of that armor. There were hundreds of Earthie tourists on the station when we came in and if they had the money to get this far from Earth, nothing you could charge for an overnight stay and tour would shock them.

"It might open some eyes too. We had a young lady on the station telling us some Earthies look down their noses at Derf. When they see the workmanship and progression in the designs, they'd have to be idiots to still think you are not their peers."

"Do you think so?" First Mum asked, amused. "My counterpart over at Black Rocks clan showed an Earth scientist an early firearm. The fellow informed her that Prescott and Hartug's definitive text on alien cultures says the Derf were not known to use firearms before the coming of Humans. Therefore, what she was showing him was some poorly executed fake, cobbled together from pictures in a textbook, or descriptions of early firearms from traders. He assured her that you needed steel for firearms and if the gun she was showing him was loaded up it would likely burst on the first shot."

"The idiot - Humans made bronze cannon and brass pistols too! I've seen them in the history books my father was having me study."

"Well, I'll leave it for you to inform the professor of alien history, if you should meet him sometime. You can see why the Mothers at Black Rock tossed him out on his ear. If he wasn't shy to accuse his hostesses of fraud, I doubt the fool would take instruction from a little girl of his race, but you're welcome to try.

"I showed you these things for two reasons. I wanted to know how you'd feel about them and I'm gratified you value old things. Also, I wanted you to see them, so when you are at the watchtower you can picture the Derf dressed in this armor and looking out over the hills for the enemy. As you said, there is no rush to sell off any of it. But your idea of a museum is interesting. The Mothers will talk about that idea and perhaps next time you visit we'll discuss it again." The First Mother led them back out, locking the armory behind her.

Chapter 16

The gate of the ruined watchtower didn't open on a central courtyard. Instead, it opened to the bottom of a sort of pit in the central courtyard of the tower which was a good two meters higher than the surrounding ground. Instead of stairs the width of the gate, a narrow stairway went up each side of the pit.

An invader, even after forcing the gate, had to climb terribly exposed to fire from the opposite side of the notch and unable to move right or left, while exposed to having boulders rolled down the stairs from a receptacle built for them at the top. To make matters worse, the stairs were of variable width and height so that rushing up them became a difficult study in rhythm and footwork. Holes in the floor of the notch showed where spikes would be set at the last hours before a breach, to impale anyone forced off the narrow stairs.

The stairs from the raised courtyard up the inside of the wall to the fighting positions were even, but too big for Lee to step. She had to back up to each one and boost herself up to sit on the next level, then stand and repeat it over and over. Gordon had balked at coming inside for some reason. He was waiting for her standing in the ruined gate, looking back at the keep. The sun was barely up and the night chill still hung heavy inside the walls. Lee reached under her collar and tugged the tab out a little further to turn her jacket heater up.

The castellations on the top of the wall had a cupped rear surface, that could be stepped under to guard against arrows dropped on defenders almost vertically. The deck was wide enough for Derf to pass, but the inside edge had no rail or safety at all. The firing notches not only went all the way to the deck but dropped away at an angle from the deck to the outside surface of the wall. That would allow an archer or musketeer to fire down on invaders until they were within perhaps ten meters of the wall.

Lee walked around the top deck until she was opposite the gate. Gordon was framed in the opening, back to her, a dark silhouette against the brightening morning scene. Lee could easily picture him in enameled armor, golden helm, and all four hands full of edged weapons. She quietly added the view to the pictures she was collecting on her camera, shooting him in the doorway from a wide view that showed half the interior of the tower, down to a tight shot that barely caught the edges of the ruined wall to each side. She worked quickly thinking he might move, but he was still in the same spot when she descended and was ready to go wait for the postman.

Chapter 17

The Bank of Derfhome looked more like a cross between a public library and a coffee house. Gordon led the way through the front doors and headed for a square pit formed in front of a huge fireplace. The rim had all sorts of comfortable seating for Humans, including a love seat and the pit was full of thick and textured mats for Derf to lounge. Gordon let Lee examine the Human seats until she found one comfortable for her small frame. He dragged a mat over the stonework edge of the pit and leaned on one elbow facing Lee.

A female Derf joined them, pulling up a mat and opened a computer. "What sort of hospitality may I offer while we do business?" she inquired.

"I'd like a coffee with some brandy please," Gordon requested.

"Can you make me a mocha by any chance?" Lee asked.

"Certainly." If she was surprised to hear fluent Derf from Lee she hid it well. "I am customarily known as Goldilocks if you'd like to use my abbreviated name."

"Thank you. I'm not very formal. Please just call me Lee."

"And your surname if we must do legal documents?" She looked askance at the adult weapons on Lee's belt. "She can form legal contracts?" she directed aside to Gordon.

Lee screwed up her face and wasn't sure how to reply. "What should I use - now?" she asked of Gordon.

"She is the First daughter of the Third love son of the Four Hundred-Seventy Third First Mother of Red Tree, by the Hero of the Chain Bound Lands, Second line of the shorthaired folk, of Gordon - Lee Anderson."

"You claim her for Derf?" The female asked hesitantly.

"More to the point the First Mother of Red Tree sets her a place at the table by law and gave her rights to sit a guest at her pleasure."

"She can offer hospitality? Is she a Mother?" the lady asked confused.

"I can't speak for them, but I believe the intent was a limited right. Think of it like a trader being able to bind the clan to a contract, but not make law."

"OK," Goldilocks agreed. "Sounds like what Humans do with a limited power of attorney." She seemed comfortable with that comparison.

"I mean no offense," she informed Lee, "But these things matter in Derf business because the word of your clan Mothers binds or dissolves every matter of law. We do business at their pleasure. And ultimately some dispute, if there should be one, could even end up as a matter of trial by combat if your Mum would step forward and declare their champion will resolve the matter. I know many Humans look down on the arrangement, but it's what we have to work with and for better or worse it functions."

"Uh, Gordon, should I mention?" Lee asked hesitantly.

"Yes, we have to," Gordon sighed. "Lee, sometimes a person's given name is changed if they have significant events. Just so you understand William's name.

"Goldilocks, The Great Champion of Red Tree Clan, Defender of the Treaty of Man and Guardian of the Traditions of Propriety, Hero of the Chain-Bound Lands, William, declared Lee kin by his own word first, before the Mothers, and spoke to her cause. Period, no conditions. She has a personal champion, even if the Mothers decline to test the law."

"Will she know about all that being a city Derf?" Lee asked.

Goldilocks just blinked at them like she was having trouble absorbing all that. "City Derf, Keep bound or outlaw even, I imagine, all know William who know law. I suppose there is some story behind this remarkable situation?" she didn't seem to doubt them at least.

Gordon seemed to be having trouble expressing it so Lee summarized it carefully. "There was some, uh, unpleasantness when we sat down with the Mothers at Red Tree, so the First Mum resigned. William still wasn't happy with how things were going and we hadn't got our beer, so he buried his axe in the table in front of the First Mum and told her to shut up and what law to make or he'd make a permanent change of administration," she illustrated with a swipe of an imaginary axe, "and threatened to take the axe to the beer barrel too if we weren't served when he came back down for dinner. Things resolved pretty quickly after he stomped off upstairs and we got our beer and an apology that seemed sincere. I acknowledged it with everybody else when the First Mum formalized it later. Does that leave out anything important Gordon?"

"No, that covers the important elements," he said, amused at what she left out and what she considered important.

"The Chain-Bound thing in our name and William's - does that mean he's your dad?"

"Yes, Lee. That didn't seem important to mention."

"It's the kind of thing I like to know," Lee said, not angry, but frustrated.

"Was the discussion a little more - heated - than you relate?" Goldilocks asked Lee.

"Oh no, well, the new First Mum started to raise her voice once, but when William gets upset his fur stands up, he gets really quiet and you can barely hear him."

Goldilocks shuddered at the mental image and made a note on her computer. "Did he take back his token when he came to dinner?" she asked Lee.

"I don't know what you mean."

"The axe, it was making a legal point, a promise really. Did he take it back when he returned?"

"No, it sat there like a flower arrangement through dinner. Is that odd?"

"Hah! He really wanted to rub their nose in it and make sure everybody in the household saw it with their own eyes. All I can say is, you're Derf, Darling. Nobody in their right mind will care to argue that point. None who wish to live long at least. What kind of business are we going to do?" Goldilocks asked, moving right along now that Lee's status was settled.

"We found a living world," Gordon informed her, waving his ear so the rings tinkled and her eye was drawn to the Greenie. Here is a survey summary of the world with pix," he laid a data chip on her computer. "We previously did business with the Discount Bank of Jerusalem and Credit Suisse - Ganymede at Derfhome," he laid his copies of the termination papers in front of her. "We'd like to arrange for all our income from the find to be handled through your bank. Besides being our banker we'd like you to be our flexible agent in other matters. We'd appreciate a letter of credit and a minimal draw account based on our claim to tide us over until we start getting payments."

"This is a major relationship you are proposing. I need to get two more senior partners to look at these documents. I'll call a steward to attend to you while we look this material over."

"We'd also like you to send ahead either by drone or direct ship and have an Earth legal firm start on our paperwork for the claim. We know it's nothing for amateurs to do. This firm was suggested to us if you think they are suitable," Gordon handed her McPherson's card, with the patent firm note presented up. "I'd like that back when you've copied it."

Goldilocks copied the note to her computer and then curiosity made her flip the card. The Moore-Harper-Goldberg and McPherson side made her blink, several times. A few taps on her computer and she was joined by an older male. He had a neck chain which was unusual for a Derf. The third partner was an older Human woman. She was introduced as Sally Goldstein-Singh and the Derf's abbreviated name as Darius. The computer data they'd pulled up for the law firms seemed to be stirring quite a bit of interest. Another Human showed up and didn't join the bankers, but joined them. She gave her name as Mary and asked if it was too early to have some lunch and would they like some video or music while the partners were conferring?

"Maybe just a snack," Gordon allowed.

"We had Mr. McPherson here on business last week," Darius said looking at Gordon like he might have stolen the card and then passed it to Sally.

"Yes, he mentioned he was settling an estate. We had breakfast with him on Derfhome station when the Mary Ellen came in."

"Mr. McPherson's firm is highly regarded," Darius said. Lee was getting irritated. She felt the implication was his firm was too fancy for them.

"Oh good," Lee said. "I'm glad you retained Stanley's firm, Gordon. I liked him, but it's good to hear someone else say they're good. Do you have any information on the firm of Green, Bennett, and Glenn he recommended?"

Gordon was surprised she remembered the partner's names so readily.

"We haven't dealt with the firm, but the information on the web indicates they are as highly placed in patent law as Mr. McPherson's firm is in agency and family. Has Mr. McPherson billed you for his retainer yet, or did you just establish intent verbally over breakfast?"

"Oh, we both had our pads so we swiped them over the table and finalized it right then, so he is committed," Gordon told him. He saw no need to mention the discount he received.

"That's excellent then," Darius said all smiles. "We'll note them as your counsel of record. May I suggest you allow us to mention your name to our own Earth attorneys here in Derfhome? If something comes up locally they can advise you quickly and then coordinate with your primary counsel if need be. They offer such assistance to our customers we recommend without a retainer," he purred.

"That would be nice," Gordon agreed. "If they have your confidence they have mine too," he added graciously.

There was a circle of Derf, all older males at a low table toward one corner of the room. All at once they erupted in exclamations and pointed at something on a screen hanging behind them. One line had changed color from blue to yellow, whatever that meant.

"What in the world are they so excited about?" Lee asked their steward.

"Them? They are a trading group that comes in most days. They sit there and play cards and watch the ticker. They trade locally, but whenever a ship comes in from Earth it squirts the trading data from when it left ahead and that often creates some excitement for the club. They're a bunch of characters I can tell you," Mary said rolling her eyes. "You see them in here all hours drinking coffee, using the library and getting some clerk to do research. Let me get you some snacks," she said making a short voice call on her pad.

"There seems to be about a third Humans here," Lee observed. "The other place we were doing business didn't have any Derf at all. I like it here better. I had a feeling there might be some prejudice," Lee said hesitantly, and then was sorry she'd made such a horrible accusation.

"No! You think?" Mary said fake-shocked. Apparently, it wasn't such a wild idea.

"They forced the fellow we'd been dealing with into retirement at seventy years old. It seemed unnecessary," Lee said.

"That's an Earth prejudice for you. You're going there, right?" Mary asked. She was their hostess but outside the loop of the executives helping them.

"We need to, yes. Gordon tells me we need to present our claims," Lee said.

"A lot of Earthies don't have the funds to do major medical upgrades. The standard of living is much lower there. Some of them won't do any genetic procedures for religious reasons, so a lot of the population is old at seventy," Mary explained. "No reason a Human can't stay active to a hundred and twenty or twenty-five and live to a hundred and forty or so. Who knows? They keep learning new stuff so fast. By the time either of us is on the far side of a hundred, they may have tacked a few more years on for us."

"This bank isn't like that with Humans?" Lee asked.

"Sally over there will retire when she can't find her way to work in the morning, or she falls over dead at her desk. She's ninety-two and I swear she will probably cry at my funeral." Mary looked about thirty, so that seemed an exaggeration.

"You are going to find other prejudices on Earth," Mary warned. "I've been there and seen them get upset over how dark a person's skin is, or which particular Earth nation someone originally came from. If you can't figure out why everybody is acting weird about something and won't tell you, local prejudices are a good bet. They won't fess up to them at all, so it doesn't do much good to ask."

"Idiots! * Flaming! * Assholes!" Sally exclaimed in English over at the other group framing each word slowly with contempt. Lee had never heard such invective.

"I bet she's talking about the other bank releasing us just now," Gordon mused smiling. He was making a sandwich from the tray that had arrived.

"You two are the only beneficiaries of this discovery?" Darius asked over the paper he was studying. "No other liens or obligations exist?"

"One third," Gordon said around a mouthful of sandwich, hooking both thumbs of his true hands at his chest. "Two thirds to Missy Lee, money bags herself, senior partner," he said, pointing at Lee. "The ship is as free and clear as my rings," he said flipping his ear again. We also have several tracts of land on Providence. I have three plots about the size of the port valley here. Big Money there has nine plots, all about the same size. Well, one island is about the size of Vermont back Earthside, call it twenty-five thousand square kilometers. It's bigger than the usual claim, but the claim will stand up just fine, being the natural boundaries of an island. Neither of us owes anybody as much as a plastic Yuan piece."

"This is an extraordinary world," Sally acknowledged from the data. "What moved you to deal with us rather than seek a bank on Earth? You do know you will be a major portion of our business if we can come to an agreement? You compliment us with your trust, but I'd like to know that you have done some due diligence and didn't pick us at random from the net."

"Ma'am," Gordon said in English. "How regulated is your bank compared to an Earth bank?"

"Hardly at all," she acknowledged. "That’s a huge element of why we have had less success at attracting Human customers. They all expect government deposit insurance and a whole bunch of legally mandated disclosures about our activities."

"Yet my First Mum keeps all the money of the clan with you, except for a sugar tin of cash for folks running to town to use. Why does the foolish woman trust you?" Gordon asked.

"I'd like to think because we're known for honest traders," Sally said, hopefully.

"Even without all the rules making you honest," Gordon marveled. "How long has it been since the last Earth bank crisis where folks lost wealth in the system?"

"Well, about thirty years ago there was a huge 'bubble' as they call it, of loss because of bank speculation in the commodities markets. The governments stepped in and printed enough money to 'pay' everybody. Truth is, however, the whole mess devaluated the currencies so much, it just spread the loss around so that everybody suffered. I'm not very comfortable with where they are right now, with banks dealing in insurance. They can use it as a weapon of extortion if they wish and bleed their smaller customers, but it's technically legal. I give them another decade and I think that's going to blow up in their faces again if somebody doesn't do something."

"When was the last time your banking system melted down?"

"Well, there is no formally authorized banking system. There are very different banks here for different purposes. We have more ranchers and farmers as customers than anything else. Others specialize in serving merchants or manufacturers. The last time a bank failed here, a small bank in a mining town overextended itself and some of the depositors lost ten or even fifteen percent of their capital in the liquidation. The people running the bank will never run another, because nobody would ever deposit with them if they tried. It was an honest enough series of errors that nobody asked a challenge. The officers of the bank admitted they failed in having good judgment and they certainly hurt themselves worse than their customers. They were all left with no personal fortunes at all. Nobody felt strongly enough about it to demand their lives too."

"There you have it," Gordon said spreading his hands. "On Earth, the officers of a failed bank could walk away with a huge personal fortune and never pay any price for their failure. Most would probably end up working for another bank. As long as they were not technically in violation of some complex laws, there would be no personal responsibility. No matter how many rules you tack on people will always find ways to game the system and cheat, if it's socially acceptable, and it is there."

"There are other banking customs on Earth," Goldilocks pointed out. "The Arab world and some of the Orient have systems that demand personal accountability. But I can't argue with your general portrayal of the banking systems common to Western civilization."

"That's why I want minimal amounts of our funds in Earth banks. I'd like to see the most part of it here, but even then we'll want the safety of having it sent first to Ceres in the Earth system, who will feed most of it to you. You should spread some to Fargone and maybe a couple of other colonies that have a financial climate that would favor us keeping control of our wealth. Can you arrange the Bank of Ceres to take our Commission earnings and forward ninety-five percent on through to you?" Gordon requested.

Darius was making notes as Gordon spoke. "Yes. Very well, there will be an account in your name at the Bank of Ceres by the time you reach Earth. They have a single gentleman here who can assign account numbers and such, not really a full-time office. And you Miss Anderson, I'd like to hear from your own mouth if you want us to manage your money."

"I am happy right now to have how my money handled and invested, mirroring what you do with Gordon's. As I get older I may have different ideas or priorities and I won't be shy to tell you. Do I have to go see a lawyer to declare what my will is on Derfhome?"

"We don't really have Derf lawyers. I suppose you could say our Champions are ultimately our lawyers," Darius said amusing himself. "The few lawyers here are Earth lawyers, to help us deal with Earth laws for trade or travel. Anyone can speak before the clan Mothers when it comes to Derf law. If you make a will it is by publishing it, just like a contract."

"All right, see to publishing this for me please, for right now I leave everything to Gordon if I die before him. I'll publish changes as needed. I have something in mind but for it to be public right now would upset my Mothers and I don't want to do that."

"What Lee?" Gordon asked. "Maybe I can tell you how to do it."

"Off the record?" Lee asked looking around at the bankers.

"We don't discuss client business," Sally assured her. "We make Swiss bankers look like a bunch of gossips."

Gordon nodded a yes, that it was true.

Lee nodded her satisfaction for Gordon. "Eventually, I want a fund that allows youngsters who wish to leave their clan and seek their fortunes, a guarantee of training, education, or help to form a business. I don't want it to be enough to encourage them to leave. It shouldn't be enough to make it easy living if they do leave. But enough to make sure those who want to, can make something of themselves. So those who have an avocation, or goal, have a better chance of success."

"Oh, this is going to be so much fun," Darius smiled around at his partners. "She's just shy of thirteen years old. In a few months, she will be a billionaire and she already has plans to fund social engineering. Gods help Earth when she gets there; it may not be to her liking."

Darius looked back at Lee. "We can't let the Mothers get wind of your idea of course. You can't publish contracts on the matter. It would simply terrify them and lead to a confrontation between the rural culture and the city folk. This isn't any idea some of us haven't come up with in private. But better by far, right now, not to breathe a word of it, where it might reach the keeps. Much better to wait until a youngster has shown enough strength to walk out on their own and then quietly help.

"When you have some funds, we can find people who want to do social work and give them the funds to do so. The money needed will be pocket change to you, but we'll have to trust them not to pocket the funds and be satisfied without a formal audit system if we want to keep it secret. I don't know if that sounds acceptable to you, but we can make it work if you'll trust us and the people we use too. It has to be done on the sly, or it will create a huge conflict right now."

"If I have so much money, don't worry if a little of it gets wasted. How long do you think before something like this can be done openly?" Lee asked.

"Honestly?" Darius looked at his companions and took a deep breath. "I think things will slowly build, until the Mothers themselves say the city folk must have a say in law, for things to be fair. They are so isolated I don't see any way for the idea to come to them yet. There may be conflict, to the point they get cut off from supply and business from the cities before they have their noses rubbed in it sufficiently to see they must yield some power. I'm hoping in two generations, Derf generations that is, it can happen without a civil war."

His partners nodded agreement one by one. "Assuming no huge social change or conflict sweeps in from outside and forces change worse than any local problem," Goldilocks added.

"You folks have reason to worry about that last?" Gordon asked at least a little dismayed.

"When you go to Earth you judge," Goldilocks invited. "We care about the long term enough to study history, with a mind to running the bank. We're not like an Earth business looking at the next quarter. Earth's relationship with the other races seems stable if not ideal. Derfhome maybe even more so than the others, but among themselves? Earth or the colony worlds don't seem stable in the long run to any of us," she indicted her partners with a sweep of her hand, "when we speak freely amongst ourselves.

"I also wouldn't mention it to most customers, because there would be no point. But you two are going to have enough money to meddle in the affairs of nations, for good, or for bad if you're not careful. Please, feel you are our eyes when you go off-world. We have too few customers who do so. Most off-world reports we get are from our social contacts, who rotate in or out at the Earth school, or the University here. Whatever information you bring us helps us serve you better," she pointed out.

"Look here if you would," Darius offered after Goldilocks, indicating his computer. "We have a preliminary flow and structure to serve you laid out. See what you think of it."

* * *

"Here's a cash card for each of you," Darius offered. "Please pull the seal tab off the taster and press a finger firmly on the pad. They will work almost anywhere in the Earth system and Derfhome. If you go to a colony or alien world you may have to present a letter of credit. They appear to draw on separate accounts, but they both get automatic transfers as needed off a common account for now. We posted fifty million euromarks to it. Will that cover your needs to reach Earth? We can borrow from other banks if we need to, but that's all it's prudent to extend from our own resources now. We're bankers to ranchers and such remember. Having customers like you is welcome, but it's certainly a new thing for us."

"I'm sure that will cover any landing fees and fueling. We'd normally top everything off once we're back in civilization, but we'll wait this time. The ship is over 30% on fuel and we have a couple of years food for two. Fuel is always more expensive in the Earth system anyway, we can dip our own if we can get to an unsettled system and we have no need to be extravagant with personal items. This is our only local expense," Gordon handed Darius a handwritten note detailing their clan contribution and made a decision. "We'll figure on coming back here after Earth to finalize all our business arrangements."

* * *

Once they were in a cab away from the bank Lee mentioned something she's been holding back. "It doesn't make a lot of sense to me. Stanley made it clear if you just walked in off the street, he'd have wanted a million euromark to be your lawyer. The bank didn't say anything about a retainer for the patent people. If they have to get paid I assume they'll just take care of it. And with using their law firm here in Derfhome, they acted almost like we were doing them a favor to use their firm. I can't believe they treat everyone like that, why us?"

"It's not nice and it's not fair, but that's how things work," Gordon said. "We are certain to have considerable money now, so if we have to get involved in some legal work they don't have to stop and wonder, 'Will they be able to pay for the kind of hours we'll bill on this case?' You're going to see it in other things too.

"After your name gets known around, if you need reservations in a hotel they'll see the name and they won't ask for an account number to hold the room. You may get a room when somebody else would be told the hotel is full up. But they hold back a few rooms, for folks they'd be horrified to have to turn away. Rich people get treated a lot differently. If you go to a club or a restaurant they always hold back a few tables, for when somebody walks up they don't want to turn down. The really super-rich, like the royal family in England have every business from household linens to biscuits for tea, straining to get their business."

"But, why?" Lee asked, confused.

"It's self-interest really. They know that's their core market. A guy with a ground car dealership, or an import house, may go under and not be back next year. The really wealthy will be there next year, even if there are economic hard times. Having the right people visible is a form of advertising too. Some businesses don't even charge celebrities for their services. If a hotel is known for having a lot of vid stars staying, the crazy fans will stay there just hoping to rub elbows with somebody famous in the lobby, so they'll comp them a room.

"When a fellow stops in a shop to take some things home if he sees the box of crackers that has printed on it, 'Purveyors by appointment to His Majesty', the guy figures, 'The King can buy any kind of crackers he wants. So these must be the best.' Derf aren't so much that way, except where they have adopted Human ways. After all, before Humans, we never had vid nets or nightclubs. We pretty much had to adapt the whole package of how these new businesses work."

"You were right," Lee said after awhile. "Dealing with a society is a lot more complicated than individuals. A lot more complicated than I expected."

Chapter 18

"What's that smell?" they both said, near enough in unison to make them laugh.

As soon as the inner door opened on the lock it hit them. It wasn't an offensive odor. In fact, it was rather nice. Gordon compared it to how the hay from an alpine meadow smelled when it was cut. It made Lee remember some sweet incense her mother had once burnt in the ship cabin after she'd been sick on the deck.

They soon found a manifest left on the door of Gordon's locked cabin, that informed them they had cargo in pressure. Port workers had access to most of the ship while they were gone. Only the flight deck and personal spaces were locked tight.

When they opened the door to hold number three, the same odor hit them like a physical thing. The room was only half full of small cartons. Each foamboard box held a six kilo metalized pouch of Blinkweed. Scrawled by hand on one box was a note, informing them it was a courtesy sample for the crew.

"What is this stuff?" Lee asked.

"I have no idea," Gordon admitted. "First Mum told the third no new stuff, so it must be a well-established trade good. Damned if I've ever heard of it though. Bring the freebie along and let's look it up on the Web mirror."

"Hmm, used in the formulation of expensive perfumes," Lee read. "Blooms every other year, in swampy areas of saline estuaries," she read. "The dried flower buds are rolled between hands, to use as a personal scent by coastal Derf; essential oils are extracted commercially for Human trade. It says - toxic at extremely low concentrations to Hinth."

Lee pulled the seal tab across the top of the pouch and looked inside. The dried buds didn't look much like the plant on the computer at all. She took one of the smaller buds and rolled it between her palms. The smell got stronger and her hands a little slick. The bud went back in the pouch pretty much unchanged. The film on her hands was so pleasant she rubbed it in her hair.

"Keep that in your cabin," Gordon suggested. "I think it's a nice scent for you and it should be a lifetime supply. From what the manifest says six kilos of the stuff is a damn fortune. Third Mum was very generous to give you a standard pack of it."

"As generous as free freight to Earth?" Lee asked.

"Well, no. But we're not playing tit for tat," Gordon said, embarrassed.

"Maybe she knew you call me your little stinkweed when she gifted us," Lee said.

"Maybe she was in the bathhouse one morning when you came in all ripe," Gordon joked.

"You know if for some reason we fail our biological clearances at Earth all this will be forfeit since they loaded it in pressure," Lee worried.

"True, I'm sure they loaded it suited and went back through hard vacuum or maybe even by remote. If we lose it for them we'll just cover the loss. Even a Greenie with issues is worth more than you can imagine, so we can afford it. The people who discovered Thorn are rich from the pharmaceuticals alone, even if they can't colonize it," Gordon said.

"Why is it called Blinkweed?" Lee wondered.

"I have no idea," Gordon admitted.

* * *

Earth was a pretty marble from lunar orbit, but too small to see any detail. You could tell which continents were facing you if it wasn't too cloudy. Earth got as many ships in a day as Derfhome got in a month. They waited around Saturn and Gordon kept busy, auctioning off their data dump from Derfhome. It was only two-hundred dollars Ceres, but every little bit helps. Then they waited again outside Earth's orbit beyond the moon, while civilian traffic alternatively landed and launched in cycles.

Lee and Gordon spent time configuring a new double cabin for her and converting her parent's space to separate quarters with a movable partition so it was flexible in use. It could hold two singles in comfort or a couple, or two couples if they were willing to be a bit cramped.

When they were finally brought down to Luna it was obvious the explorer's vessels were brought in as a separate group. There were only six ships funneled down to land in quick sequence. Their section was a plain field with no pressure connections to the port buildings and a security perimeter that looked lethally serious.

The outer most boundaries of the Commission field were marked off clearly, by not only fences and defensive fortifications, but also by a wide floodlighted lane painted a startling blue, that nobody could say they didn't see. The only good thing about the fortifications in Lee's eyes was it all faced outward from their ship, instead of pointing in like they were the threat.

The examination they received from the Claims Commission made the exam at Derfhome look cursory. They spent three days in isolation and had so many tests both invasive and passive that they lost count. As the doctors worked on them several planners interviewed them, with questions their tapes and notes didn't answer. They had probably heard just about every wild story possible, but the lady who heard Lee relate how her parents died left looking rattled, after Lee calmly told how the dinos chewed at her sleeping bag trying to get to her through the tough ballistic cloth shell and how Lee kept firing point blank at the unseen foe.

The bureaucrats were busy even as they were being examined, they were assured, planning an expedition with seven ships to survey the planet in greater detail and making a catalog of land and assets to auction. All their questions about the business side of the claim were put off for when they were cleared for release. They were assured the patent lawyers they chose were top notch and their claims would be well written.

On the fourth day, they were released and their ship declared non-hazardous. The ship was released to be towed to the civilian field and they moved from the hospital, inside the security zone, to the Holiday Inn Armstrong. A Commission electric cart carried them through a tunnel from the Commission offices and shops to civilian cubic. It was open and pressurized all the way, with only emergency drop gates for any loss of pressure.

At the far end, they crossed a blue line painted on the pavement, with a single guard for each authority beside the line and they were in the Lunar Republic. The Commission field had extraterritoriality, just like an embassy. But in this case, it was a shared autonomy, between the seventeen nations and worlds who flagged explorer ships.

It was late local time and an official of the Claims Commission asked for an interview over breakfast and permission to bring a trader to sign a release for their cargo. They agreed if it could be done in their suite and suggested a late breakfast, being wrung out from the testing.

* * *

The Commission rep was dressed in an Earth-style business suit, very much like Stanley McPherson wore on Derfhome station. The other man was surprisingly young and Oriental. He had on thin linen pants and loafers with no socks, a T-shirt, and a remarkable collection of gold jewelry. There was a slender and ornate dagger tucked in his waist too.

"Good morning. I'm Commission senior account representative Adrian Bertrand. This is the gentleman your clan contracted to sell the consignment of Blinkweed. I must say we were surprised. It's not often an explorer ship stops to bring mundane cargo back when they are coming to register a discovery. I confess I've little talent for languages, so I'll let him present himself. I believe he needs just a moment of your time."

The young fellow was presenting a business card in both hands. Gordon accepted it and surprised Lee by producing one of his own and offered it with the same double grip. She didn't know Gordon had cards.

After a glance at the card, Gordon made a stiff little bow and said - "Ohayou-gozaimasu, Oai-deki-te urseshii-desu?" For a moment the young fellow just stood with his mouth hanging open, but finally collected himself and uttered - "Genki-desu, but it is customary to do business here in English. I don't believe Mr. Bertrand is familiar with Japanese, so let us use English as a courtesy to him. Please just call me Hiroshi."

"Fine Hiroshi, why don't we all sit?" Gordon suggested, waving at the table room service set up minutes before their arrival. A server manned a cart to the side, ready to make omelets and waffles.

"If you simply sign my release I won't ask more of your valuable time," Hiroshi offered.

"Up to you," Gordon allowed. "There's a place set for you. If you haven't broken your fast this morning feel free to dig in. I believe my daughter was curious about our cargo if you have time to talk to us. I imagine you know a great deal about it if you trade in it."

Hiroshi hesitated and looked warily at Mr. Bertrand. Lee suddenly got the feeling it was a status thing. Hiroshi was just a merchant and Mr. Bertrand was an official. That was interesting because it gave her some idea where they fit in socially here.

"Thank you. I'd be happy to accept your hospitality," Hiroshi decided, sitting down. "Will your daughter be joining us then?" he inquired innocently.

Gordon laughed easily and corrected him gently. "Lee here is my daughter. She is daughter to me and has been acknowledged and seated by the Mother of our clan as a matter of law, so she is Derf. You might say she is naturalized I suppose. She was given the right to offer hospitality at the clan table. I have to tell you that's an extraordinary gift, of a right usually reserved to the First Mother. I'm rather proud of her," he admitted.

"What did you wonder about the weed?" Hiroshi asked Lee, pouring himself an orange juice. He didn't appear to have any problem with her adoption. "Am I mistaken, or do I catch just a hint of Blinky in the room?"

"Well, we wondered about the origin of the name, Blinkweed," Lee explained. "We looked it up in the Web mirror on Derfhome station and there was no explanation of how it came to be named that. And yes, I do have a pouch of it given me as a gift. After I clean up I rub a bud between my hands and wipe it in my hair."

"Ah, you should know that a standard pouch of prime bud is worth about seventy- thousand euromarks on Earth right now." That made Lee and Gordon raise eyebrows to each other. "But I salute your use of the straight bud without bringing in any secondary scents. Blinky is one of the few prime scents that will stand alone so well. As to the name, if you let it bolt, that is, go to seed, it produces a single black elongated seed at each bud. The outer pedals of the flower fall off and the heavy seed hangs over on the stem in the wind," he demonstrated with his hand curved over. "The inner petals cover and uncover the seed as it rocks in the wind," he said, spreading his fingers and bobbing his hand up and down, "making it look like a blinking dark eye."

"Marvelous," Lee clapped her hands together, delighted. "We'd never have figured it out on our own," she admitted.

"It's probably cited in the full Web," Hiroshi explained, "but colony mirrors may only have a quarter to a third of the English Web and no other languages. Almost every item, except quotes of speeches and recent news articles, are condensed."

"Jack my first father explained that to me," Lee agreed, nodding. "We carried about a tenth of the English Web in our ship library and it has been very useful in my schooling. Gordon, we have to find a way to buy the full Web for Derfhome. I imagine we can contract for ships that make regular runs to carry the memory for us."

"That would be," Hiroshi struggled for words, "a staggering expense."

"I was told we should have a pretty good income from this find," Lee said. "I can't think of anything better to buy than knowledge. Mr. Bertrand, can you give us an idea what sort of response you expect at auction?"

"Why don't I wait until we have some privacy," he suggested looking at Hiroshi.

"It will be a matter of public record every time the Commission sends us a dividend," Gordon pointed out. "Would you keep what you hear to yourself for a few days Hiroshi? Unless you can do some personal trading on it. I couldn't blame a man for that," he allowed around some sausage.

"On my honor," Hiroshi said, very formally. "I will take no liberties with your information."

"There ya go. Speak freely Mr. Bertrand and I wish you'd relax and have some breakfast. Do you have any reason to think somebody would want to harm us?"

"Not at all!" Bertrand blurted out shocked. "I mean - you have the risks any wealthy people do. I'm sure the hotel security and yours are more than adequate to keep you safe. I'd certainly say something if I suspected a problem. What makes you ask such a thing?"

"I thought maybe you were afraid the strawberries might be poisoned or something," Gordon explained. "You're sitting there ramrod straight like a soldier. Makes me uncomfortable just watching you. Here, try some of this," he offered, serving him with his own hand a little glazed apple pastry. "It's kosher and probably will pass for halal if you observe any restrictions. I think they are the best thing here this morning so far," he said popping one in his mouth. For him, they were bite-size. For a Human, they were just small enough to be eaten out of hand.

"Thank you," he said softening a bit. "I am nervous. This is the biggest claim I've seen in my career," Bertrand admitted. "I'm North American and since your vessel is registered North American that is why I'm assigned to process it. I'm appointed to the Commission by the North American President and they expect me to maximize the process to get as much as possible in the bidding."

"That's what we want too," Gordon pointed out. "No reason for us to be at odds on anything at all."

"I must say, it's good to see you picked Green, Bennett, and Glenn to write your patent," Bertrand revealed. "First, it's good to see a North American flagged ship, stick with a North American firm and these fellows are top-rate for wording the patent to wring every last dollar out of the claims. Economy in having your patent prepped can come back to hurt you later when people challenge provisions because some detail was not noted, or even a simple typo was missed. It could make a huge difference in your final payout and ours too of course,"

"I didn't know any of this," Lee spoke up. "I know we get fifteen percent and the rest goes to the Commission. But how you guys divide it up nobody ever explained."

"It didn't seem important to detail," Gordon said. "Basically, the eighty-five percent that the commission gets, most of it goes to the government the ship is registered under. We get a tax credit, so we don't pay tax on our fifteen percent. All the space going nations send a rep to the commission and they vote on how to spend the portion that the flag nation doesn't get. Some of it they spend on quarantine and safety, some of it they spend on small nations that don't have a spacefaring capacity and this is the only way they get any benefit of what was decided long ago is common property. In theory, all of it is offered at auction to the highest bidder, even poor nations bidding with their credits from the commission. Do I have it fairly straight?" he asked.

"Yes, but I'd add that the spacefaring nations do this by consensus," Bertrand said. "If something appears to give one member an undue advantage any member of the club can veto the process. It hasn't happened in a while and that's part of my job to make sure everything is fair so it doesn't. I can't just arbitrarily decide that something found in a new world would really benefit Chad and direct the benefit of it there. And every part has to be monetized in some way, so the benefit can be carefully quantified and made equal all around. Handing out benefits directly in kind is frowned on."

"Huh," Gordon grunted. "And it has to be monetized so nothing escapes being taxed," Gordon added cynically.

Bertrand just spread his hands as if to say, 'But of course,' conceding the point.

"I know that look," Gordon said, looking at Lee. She was staring off in the distance sitting very still. "I can practically hear the gears whirring about in your head. What did we say that got you thinking so hard?"

"I think I should wait and ask you about it in private," Lee said. Which wasn't like her at all.

"If it's that bad you probably should wait until we are in our ship in space," Gordon told her. "Once you become a billionaire who knows who might snoop on you?"

"Oh for crying out loud," Lee complained. "I might forget the question if I wait that long. I just wondered - The commission takes the lion's share. What is to keep somebody, like Fargone for example, from finding a world and keeping it for themselves? Why split it with anybody? Couldn't they auction it off, or develop it themselves?"

"Audacious!" Hiroshi exclaimed, amused, and delighted. "She'd take on all the power players and overturn the order of things!"

"As attractive as that is my little pirate, the Commission does do something worthwhile," Gordon admitted. "The members all will lend their space navies and military power, to protect anyone from having their claim wrestled away. It used to be in the first few decades of interstellar exploration, whoever found a world had to run quickly back to Earth and get an expedition organized with military force, to run back and hold their discovery against claim jumpers and pirates who would loot visible resources. Everybody is quite happy with the current civilized arrangement, that precludes interstellar wars and raiders dropping into the backcountry of new worlds to try to snatch high-value minerals and such away. If we had to hold our claim against all comers, how much of that other eighty-five percent do you think we'd have to spend on out-system sensors, interceptors, killer satellites, mercenaries, and spaceport defense systems?"

"Uh," Lee thought about it, "quite a chunk of it."

"And that would be true of any new world," Mr. Bertrand pointed out. "Instead of civilization benefiting from these new finds, much of it would be wasted protecting it from each other. There was a Human cost in casualties too. Everyone benefits from the current arrangement," he firmly assured her. "Really, it is one of the most sensible things politicians have agreed to in the last couple of centuries."

"OK, works for me," Lee agreed. "If we ever meet an advanced starfaring race, we'll have to work veryy hard to get them to come onboard the system," she predicted.

"There are scholarly papers about the very thing," Bertrand told her," and I can assure you the Commission has first-contact people trained to present our system of live-and-let-live, to any such newcomers in a positive light."

"I can be personally happy with my cut I'm sure. When will we start to get some of it?" she asked Bertrand.

"You two have already received mixed cash payments of something over a hundred and fifty million USNA dollars while you were in quarantine and hard contracts for a bit more than fifty billion USNA dollars in payments, ranging from months to some years," he assured her. "You get paid in North American dollars, what with your vessel being registered there, but Gordon wanted the majority account in a Ceres dollar position, with euromarks a second choice, so they are bought at market automatically. At each midnight Zulu time it is paid out to the Ceres accounts you gave us."

"Wow and that's just our cut? What did you sell off that quick?" Lee asked enthused.

The Commission rep opened his pad and squinted at the small screen a bit. "Advance payment for the lease of land for a full-service spaceport. We try to avoid selling land until it is very mature in value. That runs ninety-nine years, with escalating clauses based on traffic each year, advances and bonds paid for various service businesses, such as fueling at the port, rights to install, and sell various necessary services like satellite communications, GPS service, emergency beacon response, and aero-space traffic control.

"All those sorts of things are annual fees which will rise with the volume of business of course. They will make you much more in ten years than now. We are entertaining bids for pharmaceutical search rights for all the samples you collected and the rights to search further on Providence. If there are actual drugs found, that will be a separate source of fees as we retain the patent rights for organisms.

"Your patent was written as a stellar claim, not a planetary claim. That's one of those details for which you want a first-rate firm writing the patent. So you will have Helium 3 mining rights on the gas giant out system from Providence once local traffic makes it profitable. That, of course, will get bigger and bigger as business in the system grows and even more if traffic picks up beyond to other stars.

"Your lawyers were so thorough, they reserved personal landing and field rights and fuel rights for you to personally mine no matter who buys the franchise. Most don't think of that given non-explorer ships rarely carry fuel scoops.

"Ah, you have a patent for a food plant, Pearl Potatoes. So you must have short-form proved it out to patent it. You should have an agent offer the non-food rights for you."

"Huh?" Lee asked not understanding.

"You can sell any rights beyond simply raising it as a food plant. The leaves may have value. The genome may have segments people will want to incorporate into other organisms. This plant patent alone might make you a wealthy woman."

"We did prove 'em out," Gordon confirmed. "They are so good we were eating them every day on Providence. We brought about four hundred kilos of them back for trade samples, but when we run through the hundred kilos or so of them I have stashed in the galley I'm going to miss them. They're really delicious. It will be a couple of years I assume before you guys can get up to speed to market them widely."

"I would like to bid on exclusive rights to Providence's sources of basic scents and essential oils, for the cosmetics and topical therapy markets," Hiroshi told him. "We have a history of development that favors our actually bringing products to market, instead of simply sub-licensing them, so I ask a favored status on those rights."

"I'll let such a bid," Bertrand agreed, making a note of it in his pad. "I have forty-seven small deals such as I described sealed and paid, that contributed to your fund. Do you want me to detail them and print them all out for you?" he asked Lee.

"No, I have an idea now how it will go. I'll get the information later about how to access it all online and I'll look at it regularly. I'm sure it's going to be fascinating," Lee said.

"I've let everything it is proper for me to put out on a no-bid basis. Some things that are a matter of security, like the spaceport and global communications, we are more concerned with performance than price. If you two have no objections we are going to make a public announcement at noon and start revealing the discovery to our broader staff, so we can solicit bids such as Hiroshi wishes to make," Bertrand said.

"You haven't announced there was a living world found? Well sure, go ahead. I'd have thought you'd have done that as soon as you could see it was a valid claim," Gordon said.

Hiroshi and Bertrand looked at each other. Obviously, Gordon had said something so outrageous they didn't know what to say. Then Hiroshi broke down and laughed. "My friends, forgive me, have you been watching the news feeds? Have you called out to any friends or relatives and revealed your find?"

"I've been watching a bit when Gordon was busy," Lee admitted. "I haven't called anybody locally because we don't know anyone. My parents rarely talked about any relatives and they made it clear they weren't close to anyone they'd left behind."

"What are they talking about on the news feeds? Hiroshi asked her, smiling.

"The high price of water in North America and a typhoon in the Indian Ocean that was going to mess up someplace – I forget where. Also how badly the Mexico City team was beaten at football." Lee rattled off. "There was a cooking show on too and they made a big deal about how tank raised shellfish are just as good as wild and a quarter of the price."

Hiroshi nodded, looking inexplicably amused. "Mr. Bertrand, when will you have a news conference?"

"At noon, if the discoverers have no objection. It's all been kept to my office staff and security so far. The non-bidding suppliers sign non-disclosures, but it's hard to hold a lid on it. If I delay too long somebody is going to leak it. Do you desire to stand on the stage with us when we make the announcement? You don't have to take questions if you don't want." He was looking at Gordon and didn't seem to be offering it to Lee.

"We got lucky," Gordon told him. "No reason for anybody to eyeball me. There are enough who don't like Derf. Why give them something to stir them up? I'd just as soon you keep our information private, where it doesn't have to be in the public records."

Bertrand nodded and looked like he wanted to say more, but refrained.

"I won't break it early," Hiroshi repeated. "I gave my word, but Lee, Gordon, I suggest you turn on the telly there," he tilted his head at the big flat screen on the wall, "about eleven-thirty and see what sort of reaction it produces." He and Bertrand both stood and made brief goodbyes.

Chapter 19

"If it's OK with you," Gordon told her after their guests had left, "I'm going to send about two thirds from our Commission account to cover our advance from the bank and put about the same amount on our cash cards as the advance we have now. There is a ship lifting for Derfhome tomorrow that can carry the documents."

"Fine," Lee agreed, indifferent really. "Let's get out of the hotel soon and do something," she begged.

"Armstrong is supposed to be one of the system's prettiest cities. Armstrong is most of the Lunar Republic. Don't be surprised if people use the two almost interchangeably. I was never outside the Commission compound when I was here before, let's walk and find someplace for lunch," Gordon suggested.

"That will be fun, just like when you took me all over Derfhome station."

"Don't be shocked, but I'm going to wear a jumpsuit when we go out."

"Whatever for? Is it chill out here?" Lee asked.

"No, but there are extreme groups of Earthies who feel Derf and the other races are animals. Some of them are so crazy they want all animals to be dressed in public too. They take video or pix of any aliens in public and show us in as unfavorable a light as they can. The Mothers quietly asked us to wear something in public in the Earth system. I'm in agreement with it, actually. Besides there are other advantages, pockets are nice too," Gordon said smiling. "But I don't want to hear any crap about lederhosen."

"Whatever," Lee said, "is there anything, in particular, you want me to wear?"

"Long pants and soled shoes, if you would please, and in the Earth system you should wear gloves in public. It's not style, it's for disease. In fact, when we go down Earthside there are places it's smart to wear a mask. I have data link spex for us too," Gordon added.

"If it's that bad a filth hole, why don't we skip the parts where you need a mask?" Lee asked, wrinkling her nose up.

"Perhaps we can," Gordon agreed. "I was too busy talking to do breakfast justice. Get yourself something if you want before I ask them to take it away." He started making another plate, with a couple of pounds of ham slices and pineapple chunks and Lee found room for another of the pastries and a cup of tea.

Chapter 20

A full belly had Gordon taking the little post-meal nap he favored. Lee let him sleep, knowing it didn't last long. Sure enough, in a half-hour he paused breathing, got suddenly still and his eyes popped open.

"Let's get out today and roam around a bit, have lunch somewhere outside the hotel and see some sights," Lee begged him again quickly before he could suggest otherwise.

"Fine with me," Gordon agreed, "It's ten minutes 'til noon, why don't you call up the news like Hiroshi suggested and see if they say anything about our world before we go out?"

"House, news on screen please," Lee called out.

"Local, Earth, system, or trans-stellar news?" a pleasant androgynous voice inquired.

"Trans-stellar," Lee said, then asked, "Don't you think Gordon?"

"I don't know. It's a big screen. Why don't you do split channels?"

"OK, house split the screen and display most popular news channels, local, Earth, system, and trans-stellar, with English captioning," Lee ordered.

Four windows opened with no audio talking over each other. The trans-stellar news was talking heads, with names under each on-screen and a chat room style text box, but the captioning caught her eye, as the name of their ship scrolled past in the captions.

* * *

"The investors of Galan's Girl have already released their claims to public bid. They have a number of mineral discoveries in three different systems. High Hopes is in the explorer yard, but it is listed as in from Derfhome and marked on the trade board as carrying goods of Derfhome origin, so I don't see it having anything to do with the rumors."

"They also are shown on the public boards as crewed by two owners. The primary owners of record are not even present, so likely they went bust and it is here for a refit and possibly to hire crew. A two-man crew rarely tries to prospect anything but gas giants and asteroid belts. So I agree there, Howard. The Chinese boat, Unfolding Blossom, came in similarly short crewed and with visible damage. I doubt they have any significant finds to report and are likewise in for a refit."

"That leaves the Pilgrim's Fortune out of Fargone, Dick. Do you like them for big news, big enough to schedule a press conference?"

"Absolutely, Howard, they came in on an Orion vector. It has been dry out that direction for so long, it's way past time for a hit. The crew won't be released out of quarantine until later today, so the timing fits. There is no keeping a cap on the news once a big crew has liberty. It is a fifty-man Boeing hull that was gone sixteen months. Long enough to be far beyond the frontier and they are a syndicated company specifically searching for major finds, with one water world to their credit already."

"Well Dick, we'll know in another five minutes. The Commission has only twice called a press conference for anything less than a water world. The discovery of the heavy metal asteroids out past Thorn and the rich helium-3 finds in Benigan's system. Increased market activity suggests many investors agree with us about Pilgrim's Fortune. Everything along the Orion vector is showing an increase in volume and price, from real estate to ship services companies. The few free shares of the syndicate holding that ship hit their trading limits minutes after the news conference was called. Even the Fargone mark is up significantly against Earth currencies."

* * *

"Look at the local news little gal," Gordon said, amazed.

The camera showed outside their hotel. There was a mob of people packed in shoulder to shoulder. Security people in padded jumpsuits were holding a line with stun wands and riot clubs, behind a waist-high crowd barrier. The camera zoomed down to show details and the front row against the barrier all had mics in their hands and video cameras riding on their shoulder, or still camera equipment hung around their necks with their press cards.

* * *

"The press is gathering already outside the Holiday Inn, hoping for a quick shot of any crew members released from the Pilgrim's Fortune quarantine this afternoon," the caption read.

"Two members of the crew are system citizens, Cletus Yoho of Akron, Ohio – USNA and Alice Meriwether of Armstrong in our own Lunar Republic. Central News has been unable to get statements from any of their relatives. This promises to be a boost to the local economy, as well as system-wide of course. The last discovery significant enough to boost economic activity was over three years ago, so whatever the Commission announces will be welcome in an economy that was suffering from a slowdown."

* * *

Earth News was a feed called Big3. It had a banner streaming with "Claims Commission conference - live at 1200 – markets response positive – central banks up rates and margins to discourage speculation. Messenger drone services sell out ahead of the announcement, as colonies get ready to rush news home. Outer system bidders rush to Luna to eliminate light lag in anticipated bidding."

The visuals showed scenes of the packed Commission field, with the neatly rowed ships casting long shadows.

System News showed a white-haired fellow in an odd collarless jacket. The port behind him showed a pink barren landscape that had to be Mars. "This is why we need to go to a Dutch auction, with an extended bidding process," he said, waving his hands in a mechanical attempt to convey sincerity. "The current system actually favors other-system bidders, over our own out-system population. When that includes aliens it's more than political treason, it's racial suicide. Non-Humans should not be allowed to bid on Commission offerings unless there are no Human bidders. The fact so many maintain a Lunar presence just for bidding is a major source of this pollution of our home system. Have you been to Luna lately?" he asked with a disgusted look, "It's a blasted zoo, with all these clever animals running loose in the public spaces like they are our peers. If we are to....."

"Close System news," Lee said angrily. She sat and looked at the floor, fists clutched, angry, and ashamed to look at Gordon even though the error was not hers. It still felt like some of it wiped off on her, just being Human.

"Hey, hey, here comes the news conference," Gordon jollied her and scratched in a playful circle between her shoulder blades with a single claw.

She looked up and all three remaining screens showed the exact same feed. The banner running on the screen bottom informed them Adrian Bertrand was Official Spox for the Claims Commission. There was a beautiful rendition of the Claims Commission Seal carved on the front of the lectern and he was standing behind the lectern gripping it with both hands, looking terrified. Flags of all the member nations were lined up behind him. It was obvious public speaking was not something he relished.

Chapter 21

"Gentle people, citizens, visitors, occasionally we announce a discovery that widens the opportunities and knowledge of our collective societies. I'm especially pleased to be able to tell you we have added another living world, a substantial distance toward Antares on the Centauri vector." He was reading but doing a passable job.

The noise of the crowd surged so strong it was heard distinctly through the microphone. Bertrand closed his half-open mouth in surprise at the swell of it and let it subside before trying to talk over it.

"The North American flagged vessel High Hopes, has patented a Class A world with a compatible biosphere, that has been multi-site tested to be friendly. It has proved out for all the standard testing animals and has already supplied Human and Derf safe consumables."

There was another audible murmur from the crowd, but of appreciation instead of consternation. This one made Bertrand smile.

"All the particulars of areas open for bidding and contracts for support, are available on our site for download at the end of this announcement. Some critical items, of course, have been let on a preferred supplier basis. However, over the next year, we expect to take bids for approximately three hundred trillion North American dollars. This world meets the guidelines to have bids let on the minority and small business plans, as well as using credits available to non-space nations. Mr. Hernandez of our asset evaluation team would now like to show you some still pix and then we will entertain a limited number of questions from the press pool and investors who have posted cash bidding bonds of one hundred million dollars USNA."

The screen showed landscapes, a sandy beach with rocky outcroppings dashed by surf, a valley with the glare of a wide river framed by mountains, a plain with dense grasses that went flat clear to the horizon. Then a closer look at particular plants and animals, some obviously arranged as specimens. Then there were a few shots from orbit showing outlines of continents and closer looks at islands and river deltas. From there it zoomed away – reminding them it was a system claim, showing the one gas giant of which they had a good close-up and briefly running through the relatively low-resolution telescopic images of the other surveyed bodies. At least they showed a disk.

Hernandez looked more like a prize-fighter than a PR man. He had a nose that had been smashed by something and he'd never bothered to fix it. He was compact and thick-necked and stood behind the lectern without apology for barely seeing over it.

"Let me run a few numbers past you. They will likely answer some of the questions you have and save us some time. This world is named Providence and is 1.08 g at mean sea level. The atmosphere is 1.02 Earth Normal for pressure. Oxygen 88% EN partial pressure, CO2 93%EN, N2 72%EN, noble gases make up the difference in volume for the low nitrogen. Land area 136% EN, but roughly equal or a bit less arable area. Orbital inclination is a bit less, but eccentricity is higher. One large stretch of Equatorial Ocean will likely generate significant seasonal cyclonic storms. There are two moons in locked orbit, the one significantly bigger than the other, but both combined massing less than Luna.

"Relative abundance of elements is undetermined, but a comparison of the ocean water solubles show an abundance of titanium, platinum group metals, and a dearth of vanadium and selenium. There is no indication if those differences are from the composition of leach sites, or from biological action. Speaking of biological action, there is no survey of oceanic organisms at all. The land survey was done at four basic sites, on two of the three continents.

"The exam was curtailed after eleven weeks when the senior half of the team was lost to local fauna. This is not expected to be any hindrance to colonization. The organism in question simply showed unexpected herd behavior and overwhelmed a wire security fence that would have stopped an individual animal. They did not display herding behavior previously and indeed did not show in an infrared scan as being warm-blooded animals. One of the survey team has hypothesized that they have adapted the ability to enter a cold-blooded period to extend food resources and then revert to a warm-blooded mode for pack hunting. Compounding the problem was that they do this nocturnally, so the phase change caught everyone sleeping. They had spent fifteen uneventful days at this particular location and with only four crew members didn't keep a night watch past the first two days. Since there were only four claimants we also have very few personal claims staked out, so almost the entire planet is up for bid. Are there questions?"

Not every hand shot up. Some were willing to let their neighbors ask the obvious ones. Hernandez looked a little put upon and made it obvious he was calling on a lady in the front to have done with her. "Ms. Eaton," Hernandez said pointing to her with distaste.

"Have you thoroughly eliminated the possibility of sentient life, before selling off this world that indeed, may belong to some other species?"

"Not to your satisfaction I'm sure madam. We have not searched the deepest ocean trenches nor waded through every swamp. There is no visible pattern of agriculture or herding, no indication the forests or grasslands are altered in any purposeful way. We have no combustion products in the air or visible plumes from artificial fires. Also, there are neither visible artificial structures nor vessels on the waters of any kind, nor any sort of road past the usual game trail. I shall mention again that all our standard contracts hold forth the risk that if we do encounter an intelligence, who wishes us to leave, every bidder or buyer has to stand the risk they may have to abandon their claims with loss. We have no plans at all for contesting possession of a world with a native sentience."

She was waving her hand again but Hernandez shook his head no, declining. "I'm sure this will be an ongoing debate between us, but not today in this forum. You there, Mr. Fisher, please.

"Who is the financing bank for the patent holders? Your release says that it is The Bank of Derfhome, which is at odds with the ship registry which shows The Discount Bank of Jerusalem and Credit Suisse – Ganymede at Derfhome, as the responsible party for any liens or debt the High Hopes leaves behind in a port."

"The patent holders stopped at Derfhome on the way to Luna to register their patent," Hernandez said. "They made an appointment to have discussions with their bank officer while there. I have an affidavit about what occurred from the crew, because it was of concern to us also. They presented themselves and the new officer of the bank in charge of explorer's accounts informed them their previous contact had been required to take a mandatory retirement, having attained seventy years of age. They were told that financing of exploration was no longer a part of the bank's business model, and the bank wished to immediately terminate their business relationship as cheaply as possible.

"They were offered the cash in their port operating account if they would simply agree to not transfer any more funds from their previously established line of credit. The bank was willing to forgive any balance outstanding and promised no liens on their vessel, or claims against any future patents in exchange for recovering that unused line of credit. They provided a very short clear document to that effect and it was signed and dated by four officers of the bank and publicly registered as all contracts are required to be on Derfhome. The ship registry data will be updated."

Mr. Fisher's mouth had progressively fallen open, until he now looked like a landed fish gasping, as well as being boggle-eyed. "But surely that is a fraud, if they hid their discovery from the bank!"

Mr. Hernandez picked up a slate he had on the lectern and pecked at it. "While he was being interviewed in medical quarantine upon landing, we had extensive discussions about this, as well as all the details of Providence itself. I have not met Mr. Gordon myself, but found him very well-spoken on the interview records, so I'd like to quote what he said when asked if they had hidden their discovery from Mr. Christopher, the officer of the bank you mentioned."

"Mr. Christopher immediately offered us this parting of the ways before we could tell him anything about our discovery. We sat down in front of him and he inquired why the principal loan holders were not there to speak to him. When informed they were deceased he had no curiosity as to how that came about, nor did he offer any condolences to their daughter sitting before him. He ignored, or could not interpret the fact we had hung new voyage rings in our ears, announcing the discovery of a living world. He was frankly very quick to speak and very uninterested in listening," Hernandez paused and peered at Fisher as if daring him to interrupt.

"Rather than inquire about any discoveries, he lectured us on how investing in exploration was as irresponsible for a bank as giving a loan to go bet in a casino. He literally held up a hand to hush me from speaking, while he read our file. I don't see how we were obligated to advise him, to withdraw the generous offer he'd just extended. It was completely unsolicited. None of the other officers of the bank when called in, made any effort to inquire if he had made sure they were not losing any claim on a new discovery before releasing us. We had previous claims from other visits, which are producing income for them, yet they did not seem to consider that possibility worth discussing. Do we have some special fiduciary obligation to the bank, to advise them against making such an offer, of which I am not aware?"

"That seems like a reasonable question," Hernandez agreed. "Are you aware of any burden on them, not to accept a change of relationship freely offered by the bank? It seems that they had every opportunity with the survivors sitting before four officers of the bank, to make a diligent inquiry about discoveries, before offering such a termination.

"Mr. Gordon suggested we ask for the security video from the bank if there was any question about what happened. Surely the bank keeps such records for their protection, as it has become very common to record all such customer meetings. I frankly doubt anything on such a record, short of an outright lie that they had found nothing, would trump the severance contract they were offered," Mr. Hernandez said.

Mr. Fisher didn't seem inclined, perhaps able would be a better word, to speak, so Hernandez went on. "Mrs. Yoder?"

"Are there any charter restrictions on what forms of government shall be formed to govern Providence?"

"No, the ship and crew were flagged and chartered under The United States of North America. It is the policy of the USNA that all our colonies shall be self-governing, once they have a population of at least ten thousand and can form any sort of government the locals are willing to vote in. It is our feeling that this is the only way to avoid the conflicts that were common in the terrestrial age of exploration. I'd point out that three out of four settlements that have formed under USNA control, have petitioned to maintain some form of relationship, rather than seek complete autonomy. We'd rather automatically grant independence, than wait until colonists rebel and seek it by force of arms. I think the experience of New France shows the wisdom of this. Mr. Kratman?"Hernandez called on another newsman.

Mr. Fisher had finally managed to close his mouth, and when the camera showed Mr. Kratman posing his question he was visible on the edge of the screen levering himself out of his chair and stomping out of the conference early. His brows were scrunched together tight and his open mouth transformed into an angry thin line.

"There's a man going to kill someone," Gordon observed. "I just hope it's someone at Credit Suisse instead of me."

"When will there be someone returning to Providence and will there be a press presence in the expedition?" Kratman asked.

"The Commission is assembling an expedition to more thoroughly explore and map the world and system. The scientific vessel Stephen Johnson will transit with the materials for an orbital station grappled. The supply ships Inari Maru and Pacific Teal, under lease, will accompany her, as well as the armed USNA Deep Space Cruiser Toronto. Provisions are being made for a lottery for two journalists, to accompany the expedition, as well as one of our choice. The one we choose will be aboard the Stephen Johnson, and the lotto pool picks aboard the freighters."

"So your pick gets the luxury ride with all the action?" Kratman asked.

"It's our game and our ball, Mr. Kratman. If you don't want to register for the drawing, you can buy a ticket when regular commercial service starts. The value of a ride on a freighter is in the neighborhood of $60k USNA, if you could buy it. One journalist would satisfy our charter requirements to make our activities public, so the two are a 'gimmie'."

"I like this guy," Gordon admitted. "Bring up a few more channels and see what else is happening."

"House, local news feeds New York City and London, England." To her surprise, it was the same news conference feed. "House, close last two, open news feeds Cape Town, South Africa, and Beijing, China." Again it was the same feed with Hernandez talking and translation for locals. The extra scroll across the bottom of the South African feed said: Credit Suisse down 17% in heavy trading. Orion vector stocks give up earlier gains. Centauri tickets sell out thirty seconds from Commission announcement. Consumer stocks rebound with new world economic boost.

"Now I see why Hiroshi wanted us to watch the news," Gordon told her. "I knew it was a big deal for us, but I didn't realize it would be such a big deal everywhere in the Earth-Luna system. It's all anyone is talking about!"

"Gordon, look at the local feed." On the screen, several cabs were dropping off passengers in front of their hotel. The caption box and an announcement banner explained it was the crew of the Pilgrim's Fortune. Frantic newsies were pressing the security line shoving microphones at the exiting people. The shrugs and bewildered looks showed most of them had been too busy with their own affairs to be watching com and had no idea what the fuss was about.

"I think we better call room service again little gal. I'm sorry, but I don't want to wade through that," Gordon indicated with a wave at the screen, "until we hire some private security and find out how we avoid getting mobbed if we go out."

Chapter 22

The concierge came up with room service. His idea of security was too obviously suited to elderly ladies wanting to make sure they were not purse snatched or treated rudely while shopping and playing tourist. Gordon dismissed him as politely as possible. He considered calling the local branch of The Bank of Ceres, but he didn't really know anyone there. Instead, he called Adrian Bertrand at the Claims Commission to seek his advice.

"Mr. Gordon, the Commission doesn't normally entangle itself with the private affairs of patent holders. Our relationship is complicated enough, without us being responsible for advising you on personal matters. I wouldn't want the liability of advising you on matters of personal security, any more than matters of preparing a will, or how you should invest your claim earnings. I suggest you should consult an attorney. If you don't have a general Earth attorney, besides your patent attorneys, you will certainly need one for all sorts of other personal and business matters."

"Excuse me, please. I'm still awkward at times with the cultural differences. On Derfhome I'd have called my bank about this. I'm not used to having an attorney, because my partners handled our claims before. We do have another Human attorney under retainer. I should have thought to call him. Thank you for pointing that out."

"Not at all and if I can help you deal with local customs and differences as a friendly acquaintance and not as a Commission official, call and I'll try to help."

"Thank you, I'll call our attorney now as you suggested." Gordon ended the call and let his ears jerk flat as soon as the camera was off and he didn't need to hide his emotions. After some thought, he decided he was in the wrong to be upset. Bertrand was in a touchy position. His responsibility was to his employer first. His duties to Gordon and Lee were rather narrow, as he had intimated. The man had no reason to claim him as a personal friend, just a business acquaintance.

The more he thought about it the less slighted he felt. There was nothing obligating Bertrand to even characterize their relationship as friendly. He could find Gordon and Lee personally repugnant and still just do his job and Gordon would have no complaint. Bertrand's offer to speak on the side as it were, seemed more generous the more he considered it. If he wasn't eager to jump in and assume a false friendship, that spoke of honesty more than discourtesy. After all, a lot of people would be happy to fake a sudden camaraderie with some soon-to-be billionaires.

He dug in his purse and found Stanley McPherson's card for his com code. An older lady in expensive clothing answered, reciting the name of the firm and gave him an expectant look.

"Hello, would you please direct my call to Mr. McPherson, one of your partners? I retained him on Derfhome Station during his recent trip there. He'd know me as Gordon and my daughter Lee Anderson."

"Certainly," she agreed and in a surprisingly short time the familiar voice joined him, but the new screen stayed blank.

"Hello Gordon, can you wait five minutes, or is this a dire emergency?"

"It's nothing that urgent Stanley. Take as long as you need if I caught you at a bad time."

"Oh good, you never know, sometimes when you take a call the coppers are beating down the door, or the client's wife has just set fire to the house. Once I had a gentleman call me from an airliner auguring in, to change his will. I'll be back to you in a moment."

The clock said it was seven minutes later when Stanley returned and this time activated his camera. He was sitting at a desk in a very nice study. It was patterned after a traditional English home, with dark paneled walls and bookshelves behind him. Through open French doors, a paved veranda was surrounded with palm trees and a beach a hundred meters away was just visible in either dawn or dusk. Gordon suspected it was dawn because Stanley was in a robe thrown over nightclothes, he looked alert and his hair was combed, but he was sure he'd woken the man.

"I'm sorry, I didn't really know what time zone you live in, and your secretary said nothing about what hour it was," Gordon apologized.

"That's an AI, quite modern so she could converse with you at length before you'd know, but I have your names on the list to reach me at all hours," Stanley said.

"Why thank you, Stanley," Gordon said, surprised. "I wouldn't have thought you'd even be expecting us to contact you. We spoke so briefly and I had no specific problem for you. I feel bad to wake you early."

Stanley got the most amused look on his face. "When it was announced there would be a Claims Commission news conference soon, the firm was having our usual end of week meeting of the partners. Like everyone else in the Earth-Moon system they immediately started speculating on what sort of discovery would be announced and which ship recently arrived was responsible for it. When their most junior partner informed them that the prevalent speculation was in error and that the High Hopes was responsible for the discovery rather than the Pilgrim's Fortune. They, of course, demanded how I could possibly know such a thing. I took a small chance, but what are the odds they could have another discovery to eclipse a living world? So I told them I had been retained by you and knew that the High Hopes crew would announce a major discovery and I had advised you to go with Green, Bennett, and Glenn to write the patent. Let me tell you, my serendipitous association with you has enhanced my reputation with my senior partners beyond measure. They not only think I walk on water, now they are sure I don't get my feet wet. Were you not on my quick contact list they'd have my head for it."

Gordon thought he was a fluent English speaker, but every time he spoke to McPherson he learned a new word or allusion. He noted two new ones on his com-pad. He'd check them later, but he was pretty sure he had the sense of them from context.

"It appears the patent fellows are doing a super job, everyone we have spoken to agrees they are top-notch, but I'm frankly over my head understanding how things work in this system. For starters, we need personal security and the best our hotel could offer was a glorified escort service. I'm not sure what else we'll need, but since I was clueless about security I have no confidence we won't need other help. I don't want a handler, mind you, but something more than a tour guide to warn us about local realities."

Lee leaned into the camera view, "Hi Stanley, we want to be able to go out and have lunch and go shopping and stuff without being bothered. There are like a zillion reporters outside our hotel and they look so crazed I'm scared to go near them. We just had no idea what a fuss our discovery would generate. Can you get us out of the hotel before we go nuts trapped in here?"

"Hmm, Armstrong? He leaned forward and tapped out something on his screen. "You are in your afternoon local time?" Stanley asked.

"Just past thirteen hundred hours," Lee agreed.

"We deal in family law," Stanley reminded them. "You might think it would be a gentler practice than say criminal law, but sadly when people with wealth have estrangements and divorce, they can be uncommonly ruthless. If you remember I warned you at our breakfast that having great wealth can be a burden. I'm going to recommend an old established firm for you.

"They will style themselves as the executive protection side of the firm, but I'm telling you privately right now, that they are the mercenary side to the firm and internally there is no real division between personnel and assets, so they can take care of any level of problem you may encounter.

"May I have their Lunar rep call on you later today? If you find him satisfactory I'm sure he can have a security program up and running for you by tomorrow and you should be able to get out of the hotel."

"Have him come to dinner," Gordon asked him. "I'm more comfortable doing business over a meal as you'll remember. It seems to relax people. We'll have room service again whenever he shows."

"Good, I think you'll like him. You are probably right about needing other guidance. I have someone in mind, but I have to make a few calls to see if the person is available. I'll get back to you on that," Stanley promised.

"You've been so helpful; I realize we only paid a token retainer when we first met. If you'd like the balance of a normal retainer, or even more, we want to treat you right," Gordon offered.

Stanley looked shocked and then laughed freely and heartfelt. He shook his head and thought a moment, obviously composing his thoughts.

"Two points," he said, holding up a thumb and index finger in the European manner. "One, people at your level of wealth don't generally speak about money when ordering services or goods. We won't expect you to quibble over every hour we work for you unless we undertake a major legal action. Your financial manager, or household manager, or secretary when we get you one, will take care of these mundane things. If you have a good manager they will make sure they have sought the best price for those services, but it's for underlings to haggle about the price of groceries and ground cars. Gentle people might concern themselves with the price of penthouse apartments, or private aircraft, but certainly not the price of furnishing the apartment or fueling the plane, he informed them, closing a digit to mark off one topic.

"Secondly, I made so much from just knowing a big discovery was about to be announced, that I made your retainer fifty times over easily. It wasn't even necessary to know any details, because any big discovery creates similar movements in the market. It wasn't a matter of knowing what in any detail – just when was entirely sufficient. We will also earn a big enough finder's fee from your patent attorneys, to warrant an income line item in our annual report." he said, opening his hand to show he'd finished making his points.

"I'm not sure you understand yet," he gave them such a serious look, "the entire Solar economy and especially the Earth-Moon system is driven by interstellar discovery. Everything else in-system is a mature industry. Take agriculture. It is at the limits because all arable land is in use and being used very carefully to preserve it. Gains are only from indoor factory farming and major technological advances in lab-raised food. Mining and oil we are using smaller and meaner deposits and won't have any advances until somebody carries nanotech to its limits and can separate trace elements efficiently and assemble them at will. Even in service industries, there are only so many people and they only have so much disposable income. If you create a fad or new service you can temporarily grab a bigger chunk of the market for a time, but that isn't really growth.

"Some things like the light power elements and base metals we have so much from the outer system we won't run short for years, but even there, eventually we'd run short, but we don't have to worry about that anymore, because we have a hundred star systems to draw on. Do you see? If it wasn't for the explorers and the growth from outside it would be a different psychology. Our economy is dependent on you, but at this stage of things it still has ups and downs because it is years, not months between big discoveries that stimulate it."

"I knew a discovery was important," Gordon said, "but I have a Derf viewpoint, and when a discovery is made it doesn't affect Derfhome near as much as you are explaining it does Earth. It can be years before something discovered in the beyond will be for sale on Derfhome. Even then it's likely only going to matter to the city-folk. Thanks for making things so clear."

"That's just the short and simple version of course," Stanley shrugged. "Economists spend their entire lives and careers trying to say it better and arguing the details with each other. Can I suggest something else?"

"Sure, what do you have in mind?" Gordon asked.

"You need a secretary," Stanley insisted. "Not a low-level secretary, but one with experience in finance and securities and dealing with high-level people. One who will know who to pass through and who not to, especially pushy people, important enough they would intimidate some underlings to pass them on to you."

"I suppose I'd be silly to ask if this is something we can afford?" Gordon asked.

Stanley just made a horse snicker through pursed lips. "They are taking public bids on your find now. It's been a few hours. Call up and ask them what your account balance is," he challenged them with a big grin.

"I see. OK, send a couple of your people around," Gordon agreed. "The security people will rotate I'm sure, but the others we may veto if they seem like they will be hard to be around all the time. And, Stanley?"

"Yes?"

"One of them should be good at hiring people, so we don't have to keep coming back to you," Gordon requested.

Chapter 23

"I'm Richard Dixon," the young man said. He presented his business card two-handed and waited for Gordon to look at it. After scanning both sides Gordon handed it to Lee. The fellow immediately found another and gave it to Gordon.

Quick learner, Lee thought. The card said he was an Account Administrator for Blackwater, Luna. The logo on the black card jumped out at her because it looked exactly like Gordon's familiar footprint.

"Blackwater is the third resurrection of the name for a USNA company," Dixon said. "It has a history of shedding the name when political pressures get too great. It was Xe for awhile then NASP and eventually got too diversified and one of the spin-offs went back to the old name. The current company is trying to avoid working for governments as they are too fickle. We do retail security and executive protection for folks like you because they care more about results than image. We do very little agency and paramilitary work anymore."

"Come in and sit down," Gordon invited. "We're ready to order supper and we are free to talk as long as we need."

"I've seen a few dark people like you at a distance," Lee told him, interested, "but never close up. Your hair is more interesting than it looks on video. Can you take more ultraviolet light than pale people before you burn?"

Richard looked amused. "Standard English speakers usually say white or Caucasian. Pale would be confusing to most people. And Black is the preferred usage still, although Negro is coming back, especially in England and it isn't an insult. Dark is sort of dangerous, because 'darkie' is a slur. And yes, I can be in the sun longer than you before I burn. You've really never seen a black man but from a distance?"

"The first time we made a port after I was born I had to get all sorts of immunizations we didn't have on the ship. The adults all had theirs and nobody planned on me. We were going back out in space before they would be effective so they hustled me back to the ship and kept me really isolated that first time. After that I did get to stay in hotels on space stations twice I remember and we went down to the surface of Johnson's World once when I was about seven. I didn't like it much. I think my mom was always worried some social worker would take me."

Lee stopped and thought about it a minute. "I actually know more aliens as people than I do Humans. I even know a Hinth," she bragged a little.

"Can anyone know a Hinth?" he asked rhetorically.

"Well, enough to trade names and sit and drink to lost shipmates," Lee said.

That visibly rattled Dixon. "A privilege I've never had extended. My apologies, I had no business dismissing your experience. I see I have to expand my expectations of you beyond what a girl of your age would know in Earth culture. Can you advise me what else I should know about you, that affects providing your security?"

Lee screwed up her nose and thought about it. "I don't always know when I'm normal and when I'm different. Most of what I know about Earth, or other young women my age I know from video. Sometimes it's hard to separate what is fact and what is entertainment. I don't know if I will act like people expect me to, because I have only been around family all my life, not strangers. Our lawyer, well one of our lawyers, the first one we retained, is going to send somebody over as a secretary. I hope he will help me learn about local custom and culture.

"Gordon has warned me I can't be as open with strangers as I'd like. I've never bought anything with cash, so I've never had anybody try to cheat me or shortchange me. That was a shocking idea the first time he explained it. Gordon has me reading about confidence men and bullies, so I understand the dangers somewhat.

"But as far as what I can do right now? I know how to set up camp and be safe in alien environments. How to clear a camp to bare dirt and put a tent or moon hut up. Ship routine and depressurization drill. I can clean and change filters without damaging anything. Like when you clean a control board, I know how to make it inactive so it can be wiped down. I can patch any hole a standard kit will cover. I know how to chop wood, find metals, and do decent specimen photos and preservation. I know how to take care of pigs and mice and birds.

"That helped a lot when the three adults were busy. I can use a handheld navigation tracker on-planet, and find my way back roundabout. I can shoot three and six-millimeter hyper-velocity pistol and hit my mark halfway decent. I take landscape and art pictures, draw colored pencil and ink drawings, speak fair German, good Derf and I'm working on Japanese, but it's harder even than Derf," she complained, with a look at Gordon.

"I know a lot of ancient Earth history, but not much detail since the industrial revolution. I just haven't gotten around to that yet. Dad taught history in a very linear fashion. Mom taught me the basics of unarmed defense, but I haven't been able to spar with anybody for ages.

"I can troubleshoot an environmental system, and do simple circuit and computer repair. I can't program to speak of, but I can sharpen a knife or an axe really well. I can't pilot, and so many other things, but I can cook a pretty good breakfast.

"I know the stuff anybody needs to know, like algebras, trig, geometries, topography, calculus, statistics, N-space drive geometry, second-generation special relativity, vector calculus, practical quantum mechanics, theory of astro-navigation, and basic chemistry."

"Stuff anybody needs to know?" Richard echoed, disbelieving.

"Oh! - And I can stalk a Derf through the dark Derfhome woods and get the drop on him," she said proudly. "I just learned to do that."

"Which is undoubtedly a great skill," Dixon allowed, looking at Gordon and thinking about tracking something that big and dangerous and smart into a dark forest. No way in hell he wanted to try it. "Was there some sort of exercise to test your training in this?" he asked, thinking of some of the tactical training programs Blackwater maintained.

"Nah, we were camped for the evening in the forest on a pilgrimage and this young fellow from another clan came by. His clan and Gordon's clan don't see eye to eye on their boundary. I saw him headed toward our camp and he was carrying his carbine at the ready quite menacingly," Lee demonstrated a port-arms grip. "Now with Derf you have to remember, as long as you leave your weapon holstered, or hanging friendly, no problem. Lay your hand on it even if you feel the need. But if you pull that sucker out you better do something with it quickly or they'll show you how.

"I was worried for Gordon and followed this cub back to camp close and quiet. I shouldn't have worried. He went in and was snooping in our shelter and Gordon wasn't there. He turned around and Gordon was standing there like a frigging shadow appearing. Nothing that big should be able to move so quietly," Lee said, giving Gordon a dirty look.

"They had a little talk – talk, and this kid only sees the axe in Gordon's belt. He seemed to be seriously thinking maybe he could shift and shoot him, before Gordon can get him with the axe. Gordon gave him fair warning there were factors he didn't know.

"I wasn't sure if that was my cue or not, but I snapped the safety off my pistol as loudly as I could. The woods were quiet and Derf have good hearing, so you should have seen his ears twitch! He laid down his weapon meek as could be and walked away. It turned out Gordon was holding a pistol in a true hand tucked in his armpit," she illustrated. "He didn't need me at all, but maybe it was good I was there, for the other guy, not Gordon."

"If he had tried to bring his weapon to bear would you have shot him?" Dixon looked at her appraisingly.

"Shot him? Someone that big and armed too?" Lee said. "Gods no, I'd have let him have the whole magazine of twenty-six rounds on full auto."

Gordon reached over and ruffled her hair. "Smart girl."

* * *

Richard Dixon had something for dinner called a Porterhouse, that looked like a pork chop but had to have come from a much bigger animal. Gordon went with his ever-reliable ham, but ordered up enough side dishes to keep it interesting for all of them. Lee was delighted there were items on the menu she had never seen, so she ordered two extra of them, Gyros, with chopped tomatoes, onions and rice, flatbread and a cucumber yogurt sauce, and something called Spanakopita. It was hard to tell what it would be like from the picture, but she was sure there would be something she liked.

After he demolished most of the Porterhouse, Dixon paused and looked at Lee. He was obviously composing himself to say something,

"I know that you folks have enough money now that eating is a trivial expense, but I'd advise you about a cultural taboo. There are so many people on Earth now, that feeding them is a very non-trivial problem. A lot of people can't eat what they want and some of them can't even get enough plain calories of any sort. So if you order up in public like this table," he swept his hand in an arc at the collection of half-empty dishes, "people will use it to paint you as insensitive and selfish, or even deliberately flaunting your wealth.

"You should try to order only what you can actually eat in public. Quite a few restaurants offer half portions. Even vid stars and politicians will ask for any they didn't eat, to be boxed to carry away. I doubt many of them actually eat it later, but it helps their public image."

"Why should I care about a public image? Why should I even have a public image?" Lee asked with puzzlement.

Richard looked at her sharply and then relaxed. "This is something about which you should talk to your instructor in Earth customs. The short answer is that's how our society works. People expect you to have a certain amount of respect for the aggregate, or at least the majority opinion of what is proper and right. Truthfully, the public consensus on anything may be idiotic and manipulated at any given time. Public opinion changes not just from year to year but from week to week. If you posed that first question to reporters quite a few people would take it as arrogance. That's how widely it is assumed it is important how people view you."

"Gordon told me I would have a hard time dealing with a Human society. He said they have all these laws and customs that are stronger than laws. Is this one of those customs?"

"Yes, your dad is very perceptive about that," Dixon said.

Lee liked how naturally that fell off his tongue. She was sure he really accepted her adoption or he'd never have said "your dad" so naturally.

"They can't arrest you for ordering up too much in a restaurant, well maybe in China, but not most places. However, the news services can make a lot of people not like you, without saying a word. All they have to do is show you sitting at a table like this and people will be shocked at the waste and jealous of your ability to afford such extravagance. Eventually, it comes back on you," Dixon warned. "You don't get invited to events on your social level. Businesses don't want to be seen as associated with you. They will be horrified to see you using their products in a video. It can even affect how fairly you are treated if you have a legal case. Quite a few places, cases are decided by juries. If all the jurists have seen you in the news and have a bad opinion of you, they are more likely to believe you are guilty of something. If the case is decided by judges, well, judges are people. They watch the news too."

"I think my head is going to go POOM!" Lee said, grabbing it in both hands.

"And part of what your security does is to keep the press off you, so you can say: 'No comment'. It's not all about actual hostile threats, but about keeping the stress of being a public figure down to manageable proportions and trying to preserve that public image as being favorable."

"Quick question," Lee said, suddenly changing her whole demeanor to an almost threatening mode and pointing an index finger straight at him. "How do you feel about Gordon?"

"I don't really know him yet," Richard said holding his palms up to her in surrender.

"Not know, feel. Do you think Derf are less than Human? Are you going to think your real boss is me or Mr. Stanley because Gordon is just a talking animal and not really a person?"

"No, of course not." Dixon seemed more surprised than indignant. "You're basically asking if I'm Humanist Party. Blackwater would never hire those sort of people. We spend close to three days doing a psych profile when we hire and it's all under brain scan. They know if you are lying. If you can't work with an alien, or a woman, or even a black skinned man," he said arching his eyebrows at her, "you aren't much use to Blackwater. We have to form and dissolve teams on the fly for all sorts of assignments. We don't have time to cater to that sort of garbage."

"People are prejudiced about women and black people too?" Lee asked innocently.

"Black people were often slaves in America until the mid-1800s," Dixon explained. "There was a war and they were technically freed. But it took over a hundred years to really start integrating them into society. Women during the same period slowly went from being chattel nearly as absolute as black slaves, to being able to own property and vote. There are as many black idiots as any other group, but most of us at least know from our own history how stupid it is to deny other people their personhood."

"Gordon said the same for Derf, that every family and clan seemed to have a quota of idiots no matter how hard they tried to eliminate themselves. OK, I had to ask straight out, because I don't want people mistreating Gordon and I am no good at reading all the clues yet, I just have to ask right out which side you are on."

"That's fine, but if you really need answers like that you'll have to screen people just like Blackwater does, with a full questionnaire and brain scan. People - Lie," he informed her with absolute certainty.

"Can we do that with the people Stanley sends us?" Lee wondered.

"Absolutely," Dixon assured her. "It’s not admissible in court, but it is well established in law you can do that sort of screening for sensitive positions. Working with you and your intimate business dealing so closely is plenty sensitive."

"Quick question," Richard asked, doing the same bark and finger jab she subjected him to. "We're going out to dinner and somebody shoots a gun out on the street. What do you do?"

"Dive," Lee said immediately. Dive and crawl if there is cover around, until you know where it is coming from. Return fire if you know where it came from."

That's pretty good," Dixon admitted. "With security, you are going to want to dive and look to see what your escort wants you to do. But your instincts are good if the general answer is to get down. You won't have anything to return fire. On Luna, even your escort won't have a projectile weapon. Loonies get pretty ugly about anything that can breach pressure. I can see both of you will be relatively easy to protect."

"How do you plan to protect us?" Gordon asked. "I know you are the expert, but I can't feel confident to finalize your hiring without knowing something about your plan." Lee heard in that a gentle reproof, that Richard should not assume he was hired yet.

"Two escorts on you in public places. Four if it's a high-risk environment. Some places we simply won't take you," Dixon warned. "We have the option to terminate our contract if you want to do things, or go places we can't protect you. The same teaming on each of you if you go out alone. You'll need to move to a bigger suite, so we can occupy adjoining rooms. All traffic comes through our door and one agent always watches the suite even when you are gone. I may at times call on extra people to patrol the building or neighborhood, if we perceive a threat and if you are going to a museum, or restaurant, or some sort of public event I may send a couple of agents to case the area and who frequents it. I may have other agents lurking in any venue, unknown to your escort. We will supply all transport, no public taxis. We'll have a clipping service and a web watch collecting articles and threats on you. I can have it all in place by morning. You're going to have a secretary right?"

"Yes, we're going to interview for one," Lee answered.

"How are you filtering your com now?" Dixon asked.

"What did you tell the hotel, Gordon?" Lee asked.

"I told the front desk to hold all messages except my clan, our bank, our attorneys, the Claims Commission, and the space field. I forgot Hiroshi," Gordon suddenly realized. "I'll tell the desk about him too."

"What about physical deliveries and mail?" Dixon asked, sitting straighter.

"I can't see that we'd get anything. We haven't ordered anything. Why would we?" Gordon asked.

"Oh Dear God," Richard said dismayed, "can you authorize the room to let me address the front desk and initiate actions and charges?"

"I haven't hired you yet," Gordon reminded him, a little peeved. "Let's settle that first. Lee, how do you feel about him? Want to go with his company, or interview somebody else?"

"I trust Sydney on him. I don't need any brain scan, I get the sense he's OK. He just doesn't have any sneaky feel to him. I don't think he's trying to rush you, Gordon. I think he's genuinely concerned about something."

"OK, Richard, you're hired. House, take a voice sample from Richard Dixon. He has full rights and access to the room and services. Acknowledge."

"Access granted. Voice sample already collected from the third party in the room."

"House, give me voice and image, to the manager or front desk," Richard instructed.

"How may I help you?" a smiling middle-aged lady asked. The screen had a hotel logo and identified her as Gail Burpee.

"I'm Richard Dixon, Blackwater Associates, EP. We were just hired as security for your guests Lee Anderson and the Derf addressed as Gordon. Tomorrow we will have a private switchboard in place for routing com and I'll have a daily list of our employees entering your property to coordinate coverage. Are you holding any deliveries for my clients?"

"We have two large canvas bags of postal letters and approximately two cubic meters of packages being held in our service garage. There are also six gigabytes of saved com messages directed through the hotel address, unsorted and stored. We didn't save rejected voice messages unless they appeared to be from an official agency, or someone claiming prior relationship. We are obligated by Lunar law to record and hold any messages containing a commercial offer of any kind and they are in a separate file. I should warn you however that a number of them are offers of questionable business ventures, investment opportunities, marriage, relationships less formal and a few so bizarre we couldn't categorize so we saved them to protect ourselves."

"Marriage?" Lee asked Gail, surprised. "Gordon or me?"

The manager turned a bit pink-hued at this question from a little girl and picked her words with visible care. "Either or both, in several formats and cross-species in several complex and most improbable ways," she admitted, rolling her eyes.

"People are very strange," Lee said in awe.

"Indeed," the lady agreed, relieved at Lee's response and lack of further questions.

"Have the packages been checked for hazards?" Richard inquired.

"Sir, we have checked for any out-gassing of common explosive agents. The hotel does that real-time at the entries and elevators anyway, but we don't have the technical ability to deep scan and find exotics like metallic explosives. We have not tested for bio-hazards or mechanical traps, snoops, or tracking devices. We already have two temporary clerks taking voice com calls alone. We'll welcome you taking that over."

"My clients didn't realize the extra labor they were imposing on you. I'll have a team here within the hour you can direct to test the packages and we'll provide an alternative delivery site that's safer for everybody," Dixon promised.

"That's why they are in the service garage," Gail told him. "If something nasty activates there we won't have an event in our main structure."

"I have two agents in the hall right now. We'll need a double suite when you can move us. I'll have my men ID themselves. Thank you, Ms. Burpee." Richard got up and walked back and forth across the edge of the room, talking low on his phone as he paced.

Richard pocketed his phone. "Well, that's a good start on it. I'm taking a room on this level until you are in a bigger suite. Just ask the room to connect to me if you have any concerns and I'll be very close."

"Mr. Dixon," Lee asked concerned, "Are you going to be part of our team, or will you go off and do different assignments once you have everything in place?"

"We're not usually real keen on discussing our internal arrangements, but I intended to directly supervise your needs as long as you are on Luna. I'd figure that's going to take maybe 80% of my time, But I intended to check on other teams I have running and deal with new problems as they arise.

"If I need another supervisor level employee to run a big job I can have one from Earth orbit in a few hours. Do you feel you need an exclusive call on my time? My billing rate is pretty high and I didn't see any necessity to charge you any more than needed. You aren't going to stay here permanently and become residents are you?"

"We don't know where we're going to end up," Lee admitted. "Gordon says I need to be socialized with a full Human society and I want to go down and visit Earth for sure while we are here. I just wanted to ask if you could come back and just talk with us some more? I know we're going to get these other people too, but I've learned so much from you in just this one visit I'd like more."

"Sure, when I talk to my people and check up on them I'll stop in and chat," Richard promised. It seemed to please him. "Some clients want you to be invisible in the background, but I'm happy to keep you informed. I've found if clients don't see anything happening pretty soon some wonder if anybody is minding the store, or even if their security is really necessary.

"Time for me to go make it happen now," he explained getting up. "There will be a couple of fellows come by within the hour to secure the suite electronically. I'll see you again sometime this evening."

"Thank you, Richard," Lee told his back.

Chapter 24

Richard joined them again for breakfast. "I took an entire floor fifteen levels down. My boys will have their own suite and they will man the elevator foyer so you don't have to go through their quarters. You have a suite and that leaves two open for now. The difference in price between taking a full level and renting suites individually wasn't worth the hassle. You can move there whenever you like."

"Let me throw our stuff back in our bags and we can go," Lee offered.

"People of your station don't pack their own bags," Richard told her mildly. "You can if you wish, but it would be somewhat eccentric. It's one of those small things it's easier just to let others take care of for you. Most middle-class folk would envy you the luxury. I recommend it."

"Sure, anything I'm really attached to is in the ship anyway. I can wear my knife can't I?"

Richard answered grinning, "On Earth that would be very eccentric, illegal even, but on Luna, it will just make you fit in."

"Let's get out and play tourist then before I go nuts and we can go to our new digs when we get back," Lee requested.

"Digs?" Gordon asked.

"I've been watching old vids again. Films really. But this was pre-space and the building went up instead of down," she said furrowing her brow, trying to remember. "Now I have to research where that slang came from," Lee said, irked. "It never seems to end."

"Where do you have in mind visiting?" Richard inquired.

"Apollo National Park," Lee answered immediately.

"Oh, of course," Richard said, resigned.

* * *

The limo was wide enough to seat three abreast, which put Gordon alone facing Lee sandwiched between bodyguards. Richard insisted on coming along because it was such a public place. He and Gordon's guards rode pull-down benches sideways facing each other.

"It's good we're going mid-week," Richard told them. "Friday through Sunday both levels are full and you are not allowed to step off the slide and just stand there to look. Weekdays you can step off as long as there is room, and the Rangers will only come by and move you along if you have ridden the belt all the way around and they have seen you twice. They don't even hassle you for setting up a tripod for photography."

"You've been there before then," somehow Lee sounded disappointed.

"Yes, when I was about thirteen years old. My folks brought the family up for vacation and we all went together. Back then you had to take a rover out to the site, but the city has grown around it since. Actually, the city grew past, right under it. They just didn't allow anything under it until the eighth level down. And no heavy industry is allowed for a two-kilometer radius. They were scared the vibration would shake the regolith back level destroying the footprints."

"You said we're going to be fifteen levels down. How deep does the city go?" Lee wondered.

"On the maps, you can find a few public elevators that go down to the thirty-second level," Richard answered. "There are some others that go down to thirty-eight, but when you step out in the corridor all the doors say support personnel only. I've been told some of the defense levels go down two kilometers with offset elevators and collapsible shafts so a blast from above can't propagate down the shaft to the lower levels. Supposedly they have tunnel machines and can dig themselves out afterward.

"It's reversed from Earth," Richard explained. "When I had an apartment in Chicago it was on the hundred and fourth floor. Anything over a hundred you pay a twenty percent premium, for your association fee and taxes. I was on the corner, which is more desirable too, with a view across the lake and along the shore that curves away to the south-east. I also got the sun in the windows and could keep house plants without grow lights. Here, the deeper you are the more expensive it gets. You are further from vacuum and safer.

"Do you want to see it from the upper ring or the lower?" Richard asked. "They have separate entries from different corridors to spread the peak traffic out."

"Which do you recommend?" Lee asked.

"I like the upper. The rings are about two hundred meters across. They built them right up against the old railing from when you had to come out in a p-suit. If you are looking down from about four meters you get a better look at the details of the lander and can see the footprints better. The view from the lower level looks more like most photos for the site, so people are satisfied when it's what they expect."

"Let's do the upper then," Lee agreed.

"Mark and Diana are your guards today," Richard introduced them. "I picked them to look like the three of you make a family. If there are any problems I urge you to follow their instructions." Both were dressed like Loonies. Diana had looser clothing to try to hide some of her musculature. Mark wore more typical footed tights with slide slippers and a hoodie-T that showed his build off.

Lee nodded politely at them.

"Aaron and Jesus are with you, Gordon. I know you are bigger and armed," he said looking at the axe tucked in Gordon's belt, "but the same applies to you. If anybody gives you a hard time just walk away and let your escort handle it, please."

"No problem," Gordon assured him.

"I'm armed too," Lee reminded him, touching her dagger.

Richard lifted an eyebrow, but hesitated to say anything.

"She came back to protect me on Derfhome," Gordon reminded him. "Attitude is everything," he concluded.

Diana twisted around enough to inspect Lee closer. "Protect him, from what?" She wanted to know. It clearly seemed absurd.

"She stalked another Derf near a kilometer through the late twilight in the deep woods," Gordon explained. "He seemed unfriendly, carrying a 20mm auto-carbine at the ready. She was scared he'd get the drop on me and followed him back into camp and was ready to ambush him if he moved wrong."

"I hope to hell she had something more than her dagger?" Diana said.

"I had a 6mm hypervelocity pistol," Lee answered for herself. "I know that's light, but it was set on full auto, and if I shot I was going to aim low on his chest and just let the recoil carry the burst up across his head. But Gordon had a hold-out. I wasn't really needed anyhow."

"You've shot it on full auto before?" Diana insisted on knowing.

"Well, not to kill anything," Lee admitted. "When we were walking around Providence I'd pick out rocks and tree trunks and such, to fire bursts into them at different ranges. Quick bursts of six or seven shots seem to stay on target pretty good. I've shot several thousand rounds in the last year. I'm not saying I'm an expert, but I can get the job done."

"You shoot anything to hunt?" Mark asked from the other side. He had an odd neutral quality about his voice.

"Hunt to eat? No. The testing is way too complicated and long term, to hunt on a new world. I've shot a few specimens when I saw something new and I shot quite a few dinos trying to hunt me," she said and then shuddered all over. She hadn't thought about that for almost two days now.

"I'm sorry, that's obviously an unpleasant memory," Mark said, embarrassed.

"I was in my sleeping bag," she explained. "They kept trying to chew their way in and I'd just jam the muzzle against their head and fire. Sometimes it took two or three rounds because I couldn't see what I was doing. I'm pretty much over it," she insisted, "No problem."

There was a tense and embarrassed silence for a few seconds and then Aaron over by Gordon spoke up.

"I've been on the Moon three years now and I've never seen the monument. I keep saying I'll come out here, and then when I have a day off I always have something else to do."

"I'll cover your butt for you a few minutes when we're by the windows," Richard offered. " You can rubberneck and play the tourist and get paid for it."

"And free beer?" Aaron wondered.

"Don't push your luck," Dixon warned him.

The limo stopped and somebody opened the doors from outside. Richards’ face showed no surprise, so it didn't worry Lee. Apparently, they had an extra man upfront with the driver.

"The Park entry is about two hundred meters down this corridor," Richard explained as they got out. "When the viewing area was moved indoors, the only way the city would give permits and zoning for it was if there was no direct access from vehicles. Sales of food and trinkets to tourists were a pretty good chunk of the city's economy back then. They didn't want to lose it to people dropped off at the door from a hotel shuttle and picked back up with no chance to shop."

Along both sides were very narrow storefronts. There was a sit-down diner with a long narrow counter running perpendicular to the corridor. The kitchen was all the way to the back and the orders were sent out on a track under the counter. The serving staff had to practically hug to pass each other and the wall behind them had a line of flat screens showing news and every third screen a live feed from the monument. Lee doubted Gordon could fit down the narrow aisle. The next narrow shop had a man outside in Twentieth-Century period dress waving a cane calling them to come in his store, "It gets pricier the closer you get to the Park. Come in here for the best deals." A stern look from Richard in the lead got the cane pulled out of their path and the man even took a step back. A look in the open front showed shelves of knick-knacks and models of landers. Lee suddenly remembered her mom called such stuff chachka. Spacers didn't keep little things sitting out – they become missiles in unscheduled course corrections.

"There are actually people inside buying that silly junk," Lee said amazed.

"People who live in houses ground-side love little things to sit around for decoration. If they have company visit it shows where they've been on vacation without having to brag out loud," Diana explained.

"Get your photos taken in an Apollo spacesuit," another barker called. Samples of family groups peering through antique face plates festooned the front of the shop.

"Genuine moon rock crafts," boasted another shill.

"Dark of the Moon Peep Shows" proclaimed another that didn't offer free samples, but the lady out front in purple high heels and tiny bikini gave a hint at their wares.

"This is so, so..." Lee seemed at a loss for words.

"Tacky?" Mark suggested.

"Yes!" Lee agreed, heartfelt. "I expected it to be more like the first landing monument Gordon took me to where Humans and Derf met."

"How was it?" Mark seemed genuinely curious.

"It was quiet and solemn and reverent," Lee told him.

He nodded but didn't say anything. Lee wasn't sure if she'd offended him, then decided not.

The dazzling light and intrusive pitches cut off when they stepped inside the Park. It took a few steps before their eyes started adjusting. The first room had models of the complete Apollo vehicle, then individual components. Finally, they had a full-size copy of the lunar module, the LM in the next room. Through the exit from that room, was to a moving walkway around the site.

The walk went counterclockwise so the windows and the descent module were to their left.

"They speed the walk up a bit when there is a big crowd," Richard told them. "I read about that in the local news."

The module was in sunlight and there were a fair number of openings at the windows so it was easy to step off the belt. Lee gripped the handrail under the window and tried to imagine how it was to land here when there was no city and no help if anything went wrong in such a little craft. It was smaller than their aircar, much less the shuttle. Being one of a few people on a whole empty world she didn't have to imagine very hard. She'd done it.

"I relieve you," she heard Richard tell Aaron a few feet to her left. Her own guards were facing the other way, watching behind her, not looking at the lander. After a few minutes, Aaron came over and shared a small pair of binoculars with her. She zoomed in and looked at the funny corrugated footprints and a few pieces of what would be litter, she supposed, if it wasn't historic. She tried to fix it in mind solidly to remember forever because it mattered.

"I've always thought they shouldn't have gone all the way around it, so you'd see how it was out on a plain," Aaron told her. "But now I guess it doesn't make any difference because Armstrong has grown all around it and there are buildings and equipment sticking up all around."

"OK, I'm happy," Lee told them when she had absorbed enough and got back on the track to continue around. "I'll be ready for some lunch by the time we can get anyplace," she said over her shoulder to Richard and Gordon.

They circled around until they reached the grab bar that helped you get off the moving strip to the solid floor and turned away to the same corridor they had come in. It got noisy again, but not so loud she couldn't hear the single gruff exclamation, "Derf!!" behind her. She turned to the sound as Gordon did also, swiveling his head to look over Aaron at a man waiting in line to get in just as they had. The man's hand flew up and there was a glint of metal.

Jesus threw himself against Gordon to knock him out of the line of fire and Lee heard the breath puff out of him as he bounced off Gordon like hitting a wall. There was a deafening BOOM made worse by the enclosed space. Gordon's true hand shot out and wrapped around the man's hand and weapon, in a huge fist and Diana wrapped her arms around Lee and took her to the floor. She could still see, even with Diana on top of her, and watched Gordon reach up with his other true hand and feel the top of his head. Gordon's voice filled the sudden silence, "Son of a bitch, that hurt!" He brought his hand back down and looked at the bright blood on it.

The fellow was ripping at the big fist enclosing his hand and weapon with his free hand, frantic to get away and screaming something Lee couldn't follow. Aaron and Jesus both grabbed the fellow as did several of the crowd. There was a pyramid of Loonies quickly formed and a patch applied to the small whistling hole in the overhead.

The man was unremarkable, swarthy with curly black hair, a little shorter than the locals who tended over two meters. And loud.

A fellow from the crowd produced a telescoping baton and told Gordon, "Don't let go yet. He still has his finger on the trigger." A sharp crack sounded as the baton wielder broke a bone in the fellow's wrist and he screamed like a little girl. Lee wasn't sure who it was, but a hand flew up and applied a patch just like the one on the ceiling to the fellows' mouth. Another three strokes of the baton made sure he wasn't going to pull the trigger again.

"Militia!" somebody called. "We need militia here." An older gentleman worked through the crowd, pulling an elastic brassard up his arm.

"Will somebody record?" he asked. Several people held up com pads with camera lenses, pointed down at the clump of people.

"What have we got here?" the old fellow asked.

"This fellow," the baton wielder tapped on the muzzled one's head none too gently, "breached municipal pressure in the commission of a crime with a prohibited weapon."

"He got any ID on him?" Rough hands produced a thin wallet and a com-pad.

"Gerald Buckley? Who here saw Mr. Buckley breach pressure? I don't mean heard the gun go off and then looked. Who was actually looking when he fired?"

"He yelled out 'Derf!' before he fired," a man in the crowd called out, "so just about everybody within three or four meters turned to look. I saw it clearly," he told the militiaman.

"OK, everybody willing to testify to that, please look at a camera and state your name and citizenship." About a dozen called out names and most were from the Lunar Republic. Gordon gave his short name and Derfhome, but Lee felt she had to keep things very clear and gave her full form Derf name and claimed Derfhome. About halfway through her name, it got very quiet in the corridor, and when she finished quite a few eyes were on her with curiosity or disbelief.

"Sir?" Lee raised her hand toward the militiaman.

"Yes, uh, little gal?" He didn't attempt the name.

"This man was waiting for us just when we came out. We stood and looked at the descent module for some time. The only way he could time it to pass us right here was if he had somebody inside to call him when we got back on the track to leave."

"Hmm, OK we'll see if we can determine if his pad got a call and compare it to the security tapes taken in the observation ring. Thank you. There may be an accomplice to breaching municipal pressure. OK gentleman, let's see what he has in hand."

Gordon was now holding a bandage on his head with his other hand, but gently opened his fist and revealed an old fashioned revolver in the miscreant's hand. Someone removed it carefully after sticking a thumb under the cocked hammer and unloaded it before handing it to the militiaman. The man showed the removed cartridges around. "Full metal jacket," he told them loudly, "not frangible." Several took video of them on his palm. There was an angry murmur of disapproval.

"You are the second aggrieved party, after the citizens of Armstrong," the militiaman told Gordon. "I'm judging him guilty of the first offense of recklessly breaching public pressure with an illegal weapon. That is a capital crime here, so attempted murder is a moot point. I'm awarding you his weapon since it is a nice antique and you've taken a physical loss. I thank you for not just cutting him down with your left hand and making a mess in the corridor." He gave the trophy over to Gordon and looked in the man's wallet. "A couple of thousand bucks USNA. Please accept that with the apologies of the Lunar Republic for your bad experience. I'll keep the cards and ID for the record and any next of kin. Don't load that back up in public pressure or you'll be in violation too, understand? There is proper frangible ammo for sale, though I don't know if you can find it for something that old."

"Yes sir," Gordon answered. "I understand completely. It's a reasonable law and custom."

"You got any idea why he'd want to blow your obviously hard head off?" The old militiaman asked Gordon.

"I have no idea, but would it offend local custom to just ask him?

"Not custom as long as we don't hurt him, but something tells me I won't like anything he says. Think you can rip that patch off?" he asked the fellow holding his right arm.

"I doubt it. I got one stuck to my arm once and we had to wait until the top layer of skin died and it just fell off. I'd try just slitting it where his lips should be."

"Try that, but be careful. The Republic doesn't torture prisoners, no matter what a scum-sucking pile of shit they are," The old boy said.

"Don't move," he was warned. When he struggled an arm snaked around his neck from behind and an elbow under his chin ended that nonsense.

"There, you should be able to speak," the Loonie helping said putting his penknife away. But the prisoner just glared at him.

"You are guilty as hell of breaching municipal pressure," the militiaman said. "Anything you want to say while you have a chance?"

"It's no crime to kill an animal," Buckley said, his voice oddly distorted from the patch.

"We're not talking about furry face here," the old fellow literally waved that away. "You opened a hole to vacuum," he reminded him pointing up at the patch, "Call that attempted murder of the entire city. That's what we're worked up about. Did somebody call you to set this up?" the old fellow asked. The prisoner just glared at him.

"Longer you talk the longer you live. If you're done so soon it's no skin off my nose," the militiaman offered. "Take him away boys," he said jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

"What do you mean?" Buckley demanded. A couple of Loonies on each limb and two on his belt carried him easily. "Where are you taking me?" he insisted louder as they carried him off. Finally, there was brief muffled shouting cut off by the metallic thud of a heavy hatch closing. After a few seconds, there was another softer thump that they felt through the floor more than heard.

"Where did they take him?" Lee whispered to Diana.

"The nearest maintenance airlock I'd imagine," Diana breathed in her ear. "Loonies are very sensitive about anyone who threatens pressure. They all seem to be inordinately fond of breathing. Deliberately breach pressure and you are expelled." A quick look at Lee's face left her unsure she was understood. "Without benefit of p-suit," Diana added.

"I was afraid that's what you meant," Lee said.

The fellow with the baton came back to the militiaman. "Mr. Buckley got talkative when we stuffed him in the lock. You might want to look for somebody named Burris, who works for the Park. It didn't seem worth dragging him back here or making all these folks wait longer."

"OK, the Park knows about that now," the older gentleman said, working his com-pad.

Lee realized suddenly their crowd was blocking both entry and exit, so the normal traffic in and out of the site was disrupted. It looked as if the walkway itself had been shut down.

"Thank you for your help and for recording," the militiaman spoke loudly. "Please send any video or testimony to this address," and activated his pad in broadcast mode to share his address all around. That done the crowd started dispersing and he stuffed his brassard back in his pocket and looked at Gordon.

"Well big guy, I think you better have somebody disinfect that and maybe sew it up. You need a guide to get you to a clinic?"

"No, no thank you, sir," Gordon said. "Richard here is a local and head of our hired security. He can get me some treatment and about fifty grams of aspirin. I've got a pounding headache."

"If you were Human you'd have more than a headache," the militiaman pointed out. He also took him by the elbow and got him moving back toward the main corridor. "I wouldn't be too hard on your security. That dark-haired fellow tried to knock you out of the line of fire. If he'd succeeded he could have taken the bullet for you."

"Why did you ask the people back there what the problem was, if you saw what happened yourself?" Lee asked him.

"Well, Missy, I know what I thought I saw. But if I tell them that story first it prejudices their testimony. Better to let them speak for themselves, given how unreliable eyewitness testimony can be. I'm really sorry you had such a nasty experience in our fair city. I'm pretty sure from his papers and because he didn't understand Loonie customs that Mr. Buckley was an Earthie. But there is a lot of bad feeling against non-Humans nowadays, even out-system. I don't personally hold with that, but nothing much I can do to eliminate it either. So, you be careful now, hear?" They were back at the main route and their limo was waiting for them. "Bye," the old boy offered with a nod and took off down the pedestrian lane.

"I didn't even get his name," Lee lamented.

"It's on your pad," Mark reminded her, "but you don't need that. He's old man Lewis, Honey. He's the Mayor."

"Oh."

Chapter 25

Richard did not take Gordon to a clinic. Instead, the hotel physician on call was waiting for them, back at their rooms. When they entered he was reading his pad and making a few notes. He had an associate sitting close by his elbow reading the pad too.

"Mr. Gordon, I'm Dr. Gold. I first need to tell you that I am not trained or certified to treat Derf. We made a quick inquiry of the local hospital and they only had two people on their specialties registry who were really qualified to treat Derf, both of whom are presently on Earth. If you wish, one of them can be asked if he will take a fast shuttle directly to Armstrong, or since you seem to be ambulatory, you could be taken to them."

"Doc, if I'd gotten hurt like this out on a hunting trip at home, or when we were out exploring the Beyond, we'd have just washed it out with some disinfectant and sewed it up with some plain old sutures from the first aid kit. I'm sure you can treat a simple wound just fine. Let me order something from the hotel and you can do it right now. "Room service, we need a large pitcher of orange juice, at least two liters of vodka and a bottle of aspirin, quickly please."

"Yes sir," a female voice said from the speakers, "we'll have a cart down to you in about four minutes."

"Now, that's interesting," the doctor said. "In Humans, alcohol and aspirin together can easily lead to gastric distress, bleeding even. Have you used that combination together before without any problem?"

"Sure, but I can digest things that a Human can't. I know Humans will dry age a good piece of beef, but when we have Humans to dinner and want to do steaks on the Barbie we have to be careful. What a Derf considers a nicely aged piece of beef, will send Humans running for the exits pinching their noses shut."

"I'm Dr. Hanson," the lady sitting with Dr. Gold introduced herself. "We have a class of large omnivore in our Northern hemisphere, which has mass and claws very similar to you. Their muzzle and teeth are much more prominent, pointed that is, and they also have a habit of making a kill and letting it age before feeding on it. Their mouth is much more suited to feeding on small items like berries and grubs, but of course, they don't have hands to aid gathering and eating like you do. They have been observed to use tools for food gathering though. I'm guessing there are probably quite a few physical parallels between the two species."

"I've seen pictures of a Grizzly bear," Gordon admitted. "I don't think we will be trying to establish them in the wild on Derfhome. Earth Boar are already a sufficient pain in the butt."

"Dr. Hanson is a Doctor of Veterinary Medicine," Gold explained. "She used to have a large-animal practice in North America and now practices in Armstrong. I'd hoped to have her actually close your wound given her experience if you approved."

"That sounds fine to me. Where do you want me Doc?"

"You're so tall. Could you lie belly down on the floor? I'll get a blanket folded to put under your head so we don't soil the carpet. And would somebody get several large towels from the bathroom please?"

Stretched out Gordon tucked his lower arms in close, but made a nest of his true arms for his head much like a Human would, and closed his eyes. "Isn't this when I'm supposed to ask if it will hurt?" he asked.

"This is so neat, having a patient who can talk with me," Hanson said. She proceeded to scan around the wound with a handheld.

"The novelty wears thin quickly," Gold assured her. "We can't give you a local anesthetic because there is nothing in the literature about how Derf react to the common Human sorts. We might inject the site to save you a minor pain and then have you drop dead from an allergic reaction. Do you have any idea what protocol was followed to validate the safety of aspirin for Derf?

The lady doctor interrupted. "The good news is there are no fractures on scan and I don't see anything nasty that looks like a blood clot on the brain. I'm going to shave the hair back from the edge now," she warned. There was a buzzing as she turned on electric clippers.

"I can tell you exactly how it was tested," Gordon said. "My partners and I found an asteroid cluster in a new system. It was rich in Platinum group metals and meant we would turn a profit for our first trip and be able to outfit and go out again. We celebrated with a tiny bottle of champagne they brought along for a breakeven discovery, then we switched to homemade rocket juice, straight from the still, white alcohol of about 140 proof. The next morning we were all so hungover we declared a shift break to recover. When they got out the aspirin and were taking some I said – give me some of that – and they passed the bottle over and I chugged down about a quarter of the bottle and went back to my bunk to sleep it off some more."

"That is one of the stupidest, most irresponsible things I have ever heard," Dr. Hanson said indignantly. "What's wrong with you to take a chance like that?" she asked thumping him firmly on the nose with her index finger for emphasis.

Gordon's eyes opened slowly and he looked cross-eyed at the disapproving finger still pressed to his nose. He couldn't hold back a huge grin. Lee saw Dr. Gold pale at the display, but Dr. Hanson actually leaned closer and stared him down eyeball to eyeball.

"Yes Mother, I was stupid," Gordon admitted. "Wow, I haven't said that in a few years."

"Males," Hanson said dismissively, "They never grow up. I knew it applied to men and horses and dogs, but I guess it holds universally across even xenophylum. Hold still, I'm going to spray it with an adhesive gel and then pull a line of tacks in the middle where it's widest. And yes, it's going to hurt like hell and you can whimper and moan all you want, but don't think about moving around while I'm trying to work."

"No ma'am, I wouldn't think of twitching," Gordon swore. "If I may ask, how did a large animal vet come to be on the Moon? Do they have a zoo here now or something?"

"I'm fifty-five years old now," Hanson informed him. "I'm getting too old to get in a stall with a stallion or wrestle a pig, and all the joy of discovery from sticking your arm up a cow's ass past the elbow has long disappeared. I never did find any diamonds in there. I'm ready to trade big nasty patients, with owners who are in a cyclically impoverished industry, for little spoiled lap-pets with rich owners, who can afford medical procedures for their frou-frou dog that a third-worlder would envy."

"Hmm, I am imagining that has its own set of frustrations," Gordon predicted.

"Yes, mostly from the owners, not the animals. I have old ladies who feed a fifteen-kilo dog a diet suitable for a teenage Human and wonder why it is obese. Or owners who can track every twist of the stock markets real-time, but can't remember to give their cat medication. You offer what help you can and if it's effective you rejoice and if it is pointless you have to remind yourself that you can't change Human nature single-handed," Hanson said. "Either way you bill them and it buys the groceries and pays the air bill."

"Air bill?" Lee asked, worried. "Nobody has said anything to us, Dr. Hanson. They seem, uh, protective of their air here. I hope we aren't in violation."

"There, I'm done," she told Gordon. "Keep your grubby little hands off it, until the gel falls off on its own. You can shower with it, but don't be scrubbing at it." She started packing.

"Just call me Gwen, Dear. I'm sure they'll bill you for your air before they stuff you out the airlock," she joked. Looking around at their faces she saw the horror. "Oh shit. I stuck my foot in it didn't I?"

Richard cleared his throat and grimaced, "The fellow who shot Gordon got a free surface tour, as we natives so quaintly put it. Suit rental not included. Don't worry Lee, the hotel pays for your air. You don't have to worry about air fees unless you immigrate."

"My God, they really do that?" Gwen asked. "I thought it was just rough humor."

"It wasn't for shooting me," Gordon explained. "He blew a hole to vacuum with the ricochet. I don't think there is a worse crime to a Loonie. It makes sense if you think about it."

After a bit, Gwen nodded a reluctant agreement, "Like stealing a man's horse in the old west. It wasn't the horse; it was that you were leaving a man to die in the wilderness if he didn't have his transportation."

"It will be on the local news for a couple of days," Richard assured them. "There is no deterrent value in a terrifying punishment if you don't make it well known. And it will be on the Earth news too, because it gives them a chance to paint Loonies as dangerous barbarians and the Moon as an undesirable destination for emigration."

"Not that it is paradise," Dr. Gwen said, "It still beats the hell out of The People's Republic of North America."

"Where's that?" Lee asked innocently.

"That's sarcasm Sweetie.'People's Republic' is a barb at governments who use that prefix because they are nasty hellholes that don't serve people. They tend to ruthlessly run little socialistic banana republics, which are usually cults of the personality. They spy on their citizens and use the carrot and whip heavily, with emphasis on the whip, if you make the slightest disloyal slip of the tongue," Gwen told her.

"OK, I'll have to look up 'banana republic' but I get the thrust of it," Lee said. "I've had a banana," she remembered.

"I'm not all that interested in politics, but it was starting to get irritating," Gwen explained. "I lived in a big apartment building when I was in Veterinary school. If I didn't allow the old bat who was the building political watchdog to come in and visit when she pounded on my door, she'd denounce me as suspect and have the school down on my case. I just didn't have time for all the stupidity.

"Homeland Security Auxiliary was what they called it, but really it was a chance for a gossipy old woman to poke around in everybody's business and they couldn't say no easily. Then when I was in practice I found out the county agricultural agents did the same thing, guarding against a non-existent hazard to food production. As if the farmers were going to bring the republic down by sabotaging their own livelihood. You wouldn't believe the hours and dollars wasted on such idiocy.

"The only real benefit was to the county agents, who got a few bucks under the table to spy on a bunch of farmers. Of course, a few of them felt they had to accuse somebody of something from time to time, or they weren't earning their secret beer money. That and the sheer bureaucratic mass, slowing business down, did more damage to the country than any skilled saboteur could."

"Local politics sound complicated," Lee said.

"Let's just keep clear of it," Gordon suggested. "We have enough at home keeping the Mothers happy with us."

"There is a smart man, crap, smart Derf I mean," Gwen corrected.

"I have the advantage there," Lee pointed out. "If they get too outrageous William will chop their heads off for me."

"Whoever this William is dear, do you loan him out?" Gwen asked hopefully.

"It's complicated," Lee admitted.

Doc Gold left, with apparent relief. Lee noticed he never actually touched Gordon. Gwen packed up and looked ready to follow, but Gordon took her aside and spoke quietly with her before she left. He seemed to be offering her a job.

* * *

"Are you ready to go down to Earth?” Gordon asked over breakfast the next morning.

"I've only been asking every day!" Lee reminded him indignantly, "How about if you quit being mysterious and tell me what the holdup is?"

"I've been diligently looking into it," Gordon said waving a fork with several whole Italian sausages on it. "The thing is, they want either a passport or a spacer's working papers to gain entry. And if you have a passport they want you to apply for a visa. I've had Stanley working on it and he agrees with me that spacer's papers are the way to go."

"Couldn't I get a Derf passport?" Lee asked.

"That's sort of tough," Gordon said, frowning. "Derf don't really have passports. If we wanted to issue passports all the same, from each Clan, a Mother would have to declare it as a law, have it circulate, and be accepted by all the other Mothers. I can't see that happening without several rounds of changes and maybe even a challenge or two in the end. For sure it would take years. Maybe that is something we can ask the Mothers to do in time if we have a whole lot more credit with them than right now.

"At present most Derf who come to Earth either have a spacer card, or they have a handwritten letter from a Mother authorizing them to act for the Clan to trade. The way most Earth governments deal with that is by regarding the trade letter as diplomatic credentials. They add a couple of blank pages to the letter and stamp them on entry and exit. So they view each Clan and Keep as a separate nation."

"Should we have asked the First Mum to give us a letter?" Lee wondered.

"I was tempted, but you know when I offered to carry freight for them she was very specific in telling the new Third Mum to make her own trade arrangements. So I was very reluctant to stir up a new controversy after all we'd been through. The Mothers are just so jealous of their prerogatives you never know what is going to offend," Gordon said.

"So how do I get documented as a spacer?" Lee asked. "Since that's all I've been all my life, it should be easy enough."

"Stanley says he has convinced the Board that you can apply for a card on the basis of your Derf citizenship and the fact you can form contracts as a Derf. They were only willing to backdate it to when you assumed Derf adulthood at first. However, Stanley pointed out your parents had written instructions for me to assume your guardianship six years ago. It's complicated, but he says since you were never registered as a North American, you were a Derf by declared intent of your parents' from the signing of that document. They are willing to concede that actually working as a spacer trumps any age rules and they will issue papers retroactively to the date of your parents’ will if you can pass the exams and pay your back dues and a 'fine' for late payment." Gordon made a quote tick in the air at 'fine' with his outside thumbs extended and claws showing. He even added a wink to the statement at the end.

"OK, a wink and quotes. You're being facetious, but I don't know why. Can you just explain it to me instead of making it a lesson?" Lee asked.

"Sure, you get enough points for remembering facetious I'll give you the rest. There hasn't really been anyone like you apply before, so they don't have any rules; they are making them up as they go along. The Spacer Society isn't really a union though; it's more of a benevolent society. You know what a union is?" Gordon asked.

"Yeah, but the history I've been studying talks about guilds more. I understand they are similar," Lee said.

"They are," Gordon agreed," but some countries have unions, and some outlaw them. Indeed there are some that have guilds again. The Spacer Society started off similar to some charities they had for seamen back on Earth. They tried to encourage good behavior from sailors in port when they weren't noted for especially being pillars of the community on shore leave. Also, they took care of sailors when they got dumped by their ship in a strange port and needed to be repatriated. Eventually, they took up caring for family and orphans of seamen when they were lost. Sailing was dangerous back then. A lot of ships went out and were never seen again and nobody had any idea what happened to them."

"The same as explorers," Lee said.

"Yep and when space flight got common enough, similar problems came up. Pretty soon a company wouldn't hire a spacer unless they belonged to a Society, because the law made them responsible for somebody they hired, if they got stranded in a far port, unless they belonged to the Society. Back then a fellow might have medical problems and suddenly they couldn't take the acceleration to lift in a shuttle, or they developed some sort of intolerance to the early zero-g drugs. The Society got funding from companies, but never enough and there was a limit how much they could ask in dues. They never have been rolling in money and Stanley knew if they were offered generous dues and fine, they'd be happy to support your petition," Gordon said.

"OK, so we had to bribe them." Lee shrugged. "They need money, and we have lots, I can't begrudge 'em. It sounds like they help people. But what about these tests you mentioned?"

Gordon grinned. "I had to take those years ago. They are written exams and they have the option of doing oral exams if the board decides they are needed. Even the written ones are pretty easy. Stanley has arranged for the Society's lunar office to give you an oral exam. We have an appointment to meet them for lunch at the Explorers' Club, to pay your dues in arrears, their fine for late payment and they will issue you a card for what they call an all-around able space hand."

"Shouldn't I study anything or at least read some of their test stuff?" Lee worried.

"Trust me," Gordon begged her. "They just want to sit and talk with you. It will be informal and I have every confidence you will be fine, unless you set the room on fire and breach pressure."

"Oh..."

"I can see comprehension spreading across your face," Gordon said.

"But I am a competent person," Lee objected looking sullen. "I know how to handle myself on a ship and I'm not a liability to have around. I don't need a free pass."

"I'm sure they will be able to tell that after getting to know you," Gordon insisted. "Come on Lee, don't go in there with a chip on your shoulder and make everybody unhappy, including yourself. I'll remind you that as far as they are concerned you are one of those orphans they would try to help if you were asking for money instead of giving it. They're not bad guys."

"You're right. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt," Lee agreed. But she wasn't smiling.

* * *

The neighborhood didn't look very nice. Lee was surprised. Somehow she assumed a city in artificial pressure would be too controlled to get slums. But unless she didn't understand something, that's the impression she got as soon as they turned down this corridor. Little scraps of debris littered the edges of the road surface and the walkways and storefronts looked dirty. A few of the overhead lights were out and one of the traffic control signs was a stump of shattered composite, with a spaghetti tangle of colored wires hanging out.

Lee looked across at Gordon and still hadn't worked up the nerve to ask about his dress. When they'd gone to the Museum he'd worn a plain spacer coverall, like he'd used before to do mechanical work on the High Hopes. This time he came out and the coverall was more a jumpsuit, tailored and of a creamy dove gray material. It closed to the waist with buttons of copper wire woven in Celtic knots and he hung a long scarf of iridescent bronze silk around his neck and knotted it loosely so it bulged out where the first button was undone under his chin.

He hadn't made any suggestion to her what she should wear, and now she wondered if she should have asked his advice.

They pulled to the edge and slowed down, approaching a business with a huge garish banner that announced, "Joe's All Sports Bar." Outside stood two huge bouncers and a velvet rope across the entry. The facade was a sickly salmon or pink with bright yellow accents around the door. The place creeped her out in a way that even the Spacer bars on Derfhome station had not.

When she realized they had stopped short of Joe's, in front of an establishment with no signage but a set of small brass-colored numbers she felt only relief. The place had a single heavy steel door, no window or peephole, and looked different, it was clean, even out into the street and line of dingy smudges elbow high on the horrid salmon-colored bar next door stopped, right at the boundary to its white facade.

"Give me just a moment to eyeball the place and I'll escort you in," Richard said.

Lee and Gordon sat looking at each other silently. "I suppose rich people get used to sitting waiting for someone else to see if it's safe," Lee thought out loud. "Maybe they learn to have a book on their pad marked to bring up quickly and read a page or two."

"Of all the rich folk I've guarded," Diana spoke up amused, "not one of them was a reader, unless it was the business papers they never caught-up on."

"What did they do riding around and waiting?" Lee wondered.

"Most of them talked or texted with friends continuously when we traveled. An older lady I guarded simply watched video whether home or traveling. She even watched it eating alone. One client I had pretty much drank all the way from one location to another. She'd leave smashed and arrived smashed. I don't know as I ever saw her cold sober. Another always sat back and closed his eyes. You'd think he was sleeping, but as soon as the car stopped those eyes would pop open," Diana said.

"Didn't any talk to you?" Lee asked.

"Seldom," Aaron replied when Diana didn't."What would we have in common? They had money, so obviously our thoughts or opinions had less merit. If we had any insight or intelligence we'd be rich like them, wouldn't we?"

Richard forestalled any further pursuit of the conversation by returning and giving them the all-clear. There were some disturbing thoughts hanging in the air Lee still wanted to pursue. Instead, she followed Richard to the door. The bouncers at Joe's watched them, looking bored.

The entry had a vestibule that was shaped and dimensioned suspiciously like a Mitsubishi four-man airlock. The closed-panel set flush in the wall made her itch to open it and see if it was the controls. The doors were flush sliders with no step over, but that shouldn't be all that difficult a modification.

Inside it was quiet and the lighting level was lower than what she'd have chosen. The carpet was a complex design that looked like confetti strewn. Green and gold and a chocolate brown were spotted here and there with almost any color you could imagine. Usually, she could pick out the repetition in such a pattern, but none jumped out at her here.

The walls were of dark wood in rectangles about a meter on the long side that did repeat, except the real wood grain was unique in each. The ceiling was divided also, but in a multitude of round cream-colored domes that were lit inward from the edges of each. The surface was scalloped in lines running to the center in a swirl that emphasized the lighting pleasantly.

"Welcome to The Explorers' Club," a gentleman in a white jacket greeted them as if Richard had not been in moments ago. "Your hosts are in The Silver Room if you will follow me."

The Silver Room seemed more white than silver, although the white walls had tiny silver threads woven vertically. They entered through French doors set in a wall of similar paned glass. The single round table was covered with a bright white damask cloth and the places were set with equally white china delicately trimmed in a silvery metal. Two gentlemen and a lady sat waiting, looking like they were in good spirits, obviously not troubled by any of the reservations afflicting her.

The men rose to greet them and the older man introduced the Lady as Ms. Barrett, his chairman Mr. Singh and identified himself as Mr. Stephenson.

"Sirs, My Lady, my daughter Lee Anderson. My name is a great inconvenience. You may refer to me as Gordon with no offense."

"And yet we heard your daughter invoked her full legal name when giving a deposition. A formality so out of local context, it rendered a mob of irate Loonies silent for a moment," the woman said with a friendly smile.

Lee felt her cheeks flush, but there was no disapproval on any of their faces.

"Best to set some things straight from the get-go than have to argue them later." Lee asserted.

"A wise precaution, in my estimation," Mr. Singh agreed. "Nobody is going to mistake your father's citizenship, so he can afford to be a bit more off the cuff." Lee would have to look up that expression.

"That's the lawyer in Thurston speaking," Mr. Stephenson told her. "He likes to dot every I and cross every T in casual conversation as if it were a contract. In legal matters, he is even more precise. We once were updating our members' Get Out of Jail cards and he demonstrated to me that one sentence we had added, would be taken as having three distinct meanings on as many worlds."

"I've, uh, I've never been in jail. It never occurred to me there could be such a thing as a Get Out of Jail card. If they were very common it seems jails would be pointless. I suppose I should ask what other benefits come from having my spacer's papers," Lee said.

At a hand signal from a waiter standing well back in severe black attire, a server in white appeared from behind an Oriental screen and asked if they'd care for drinks, looking at Ms. Barrett. "Champagne, please, something fruity that I can stay with through our luncheon." He looked expectantly at Lee. Remembering what Gordon had tried to order at Derfhome station, she said, "Earth whiskey, neat, with a coke and ice on the side." The waiter didn't twitch, but Ms. Barnett blinked entirely too many times to attribute to suddenly dry eyeballs. Mr. Stephenson suddenly needed to fuss with his mustache, but his hand wasn't big enough to cover his squinting eyes and raised cheeks, betraying his amusement.

Well, let them laugh, Lee thought. If that's too common for a fancy place like this they can just be amused. Gordon ordered his usual bottle of brandy, but then Mr. Singh surprised her by saying, "The same as Miss Lee." Was he trying to hospitably cover her gaffe, or was he signaling she had an ally? Lee had no idea.

The waiter rolled up what looked like a Carboloy carrier, but it had a big silver bucket on top, with a large tapered bottle tipped over in it. While another server set the other drinks out, an elaborate wire cage was released from the stopper and the fellow grasped it with a towel. The sudden explosive >POFFff< of gas escaping brought Lee out of her chair in pressure drill mode before she realized it was the champagne.

"I'm sorry, child," Ms. Barrett apologized with apparent sincerity. "I had no idea you didn't realize it was under pressure."

"Well, I know you didn't test her on purpose Eileen, but she has my vote already as an Able Bodied Spacer. She was damn well going to find a patch and cover that hole, even if the rest of us sat on our asses and let her save us."

"Have a pull of your drink Missy," Singh said, pouring his own by way of demonstration. "It's right about now the glands catch up with the brain and the adrenaline hits you in an after-action shock. The whiskey will take the edge off."

"You're right," Lee agreed, holding up her spread fingers that were shaking already. "Would you mix mine?" she asked the server, "I'm afraid I'd spill it right now." The glass of whiskey was generous, but with an appraising look at her condition, the server poured the whole thing over ice and topped it off with dark brown fluid from a thick bottle with a wasp waist.

"I've never seen Coke from anything but a can," Lee offered, trying to find something safe to talk about. A long sip of the drink was good, strongly flavored, and subtly different than Coke she'd had before, even without the whiskey flavor.

"It's an anachronism, sort of like our Society," Singh allowed. "We exist because institutions have great inertia," he asserted. "If we tried to form the Society today we'd face all sorts of social and legal barriers. But once something is in place and serves a purpose it's easier to keep it, than all the infighting to see its functions divided up to various factions.

"Our purpose right now is to manage it in such a way that it continues to serve a purpose, or acquires new ones if the old disappear." He stopped and took a sip himself.

"A Get Out of Jail card is an example. It was part of the very early society to see spacemen repatriated if they didn't lift with their ship. Sometimes they were such poor workers or difficult to get along with, that their ship left them behind on purpose. One early tale is of a fellow who had such offensive body odor that he was thrown off on Mars. This was when a transit from earth on an economy freighter took a couple of weeks.

"They knew it wasn't a matter of cleanliness, because the outbound crew had taken matters in their own hands and scrubbed him down with antiseptic toilet cleaner and a very stiff brush. He stank again in just a few hours.

"They finally sent him home paid passage, by scrubbing him clean and making him wear a suit liner under his civvies when he boarded the passenger liner. About six hours after they shaped orbit the ruse became apparent. The captain of the liner was reprimanded for making him spend most of the voyage in a service airlock, and the captain ran his air reserves down over half way purging the lock rather than recirculating it. Apparently, he also made the fellow spend the last two days in a One-Size-Doesn't-Fit-Anybody emergency suit, with the helmet sealed. They said the crew left it on the tarmac when they lifted."

Lee was grinning, trying not to laugh not for her dignity, but because she didn't want to miss a word. Singh was a superb storyteller.

"But, sadly, quite a few spacers missed their ship because they were sitting in the local jail, having celebrated their passage and liberty in a boisterous manner offensive to the locals. Posting bail, even if it was going to be forfeited, was often cheaper than buying passage, so they started issuing cards guaranteeing bond up to a certain limit. Every once in a while we up the guarantee and try to keep the wording inclusive enough to fit any port law. I understand you have only been on the High Hopes, but you've been in several ports. Have you ever got on the wrong side of the locals, Missy?" Singh asked.

 Lee was about halfway through the drink and decidedly relaxing. Getting her to talk was a good thing as it slowed her down finishing it. She immediately thought of the offended Derf who had objected to her riding Gordon and related the story. Singh drew her out, switched with a question at some point to shipboard life on the High Hopes. They swapped stories back and forth all the way through a lunch, that seemed to be endless small dishes, until they turned sweet without announcing dessert. Finally, the table was clear again with a new set of drinks. Her narrative finally wound around and touched on her parents without any urging and they all had a very good idea of who Lee Anderson was without any testing forms.

"We're sorry for your loss," Singh noted very formally. "You are very fortunate in having someone you know welcoming you as family. And having your find gives you options in your life many survivors lack. One of the longest standing duties of the Society is offering what help we can, to families who lose their provider in the beyond, or indeed just in the occasional accident that befalls workers in as mundane a job as lifting orbitals. I hope it doesn't offend that we didn't offer such support, but it seemed wise to keep it for those in real want."

"Offend? That would be silly," Lee said. "Gordon indicated I should kick in something if I join the Society and that makes sense to me. I don't know what arrangements he made that way, but we do the same for Red Tree Clan. I haven't been around people a lot, but it seems to me you take care of your own and if you don't mind acknowledging me as yours, I certainly want to pull my weight, not be a burden."

"As chairman, you had me with the pressure drill. However, there is a certain form for this. We should settle it now. Would you get me two shot glasses?" Singh asked the server. When they came he laid one in front of each of his companions and put their napkins over them. "That's so one doesn't influence the other. Set up is yea, turned bottom-up is nay."

"As if we couldn't sneak a wink or a silent word past you counselor," Stephenson said, reaching under to cast his vote.

"Just you try it, Timmy boy," Singh challenged.

Ms. Barrett was done too and Singh lifted both napkins to show the glasses both were a yes vote. "Welcome to the Brotherhood, Miss Anderson. We'll courier your ID over in the morning. I'll send some literature, but all the current news and bylaws are posted on the web."

"A small correction," Gordon told Lee. "I've mirrored all the other financial transactions on our accounts, but I'm paid up and current with the Society myself, so I didn't set up anything with them for you. It would have seemed too much like bidding on your membership. You can make whatever gift you are moved to offer yourself."

"Oh," She looked at the officers, "may I ask what sort of an annual budget the Society runs? Or is that private information?"

"No, to have charitable status we have to make things fairly transparent," Singh said. "We are running around sixty-million USNA dollars a year in dues. We also have a fund with which we were endowed that stands at a few hundred million. We try to operate on ninety percent of the dues, but it isn't always possible. We never, ever, spend more than the dues and the interest from the endowment fund. By all standards, it's a tiny charity."

"And basically everybody who is a working spacer is a member?" Lee asked.

"By no means, membership is optional for workers who never leave the influence of their home port, such as shuttle crews attached to one planet, dock and space station workers orbiting their homeworld, or ground support workers. And once a person advances to become a commander in charge of a vessel, they are assumed to not need our protection anymore, though some keep a membership still. Gordon has done so although he was Master of the High Hopes coming in," Singh revealed.

"One last question," Lee asked. "How much do you guys draw a year?"

"Usually asking a person's wages is too personal in the local culture," Singh instructed her, "but again it is a matter of public records for a charity. There are six other board members you have not met. All nine of us sit the board in addition to other responsibilities and take a single dollar USNA annually."

"Thank you for your trust then," Lee nodded. "I'll have our bankers at Ceres transfer a hundred million USNA dollars to your accounts to increase your endowment. Plus whatever my dues in arrears are of course," she hastened to add.

"I think we can safely just round that off to the closest million," Singh suggested, pleased. "Your support is appreciated, let us assure you."

"I have a personal question also if you'd grant it," Ms. Barrett asked.

"Sure, fire away," Lee invited, well relaxed from the drink.

"Did Mr. Gordon pick out your outfit for our dinner?" she asked.

Lee looked down at it. Soft black boots disappeared up dark blue slacks, which were topped with a pink blouse that had scarlet piping and buttons.

"I picked it all myself. I'm not sure I'm all that keen on buttons, but I like the colors."

"Ah, then did you perhaps pick Mr. Gordon's clothing for him?" she asked.

"Gods no!" Lee objected. "The last time I stuck my nose in that business, he threatened to wear lederhosen in public. I don't go there anymore."

Chapter 26

"I understand you can go Earthside now that Lee has her papers," Richard Dixon told them exasperated. It wasn't like him to show temper. "I'm asking if it is wise?"

"You said before you'd quit rather than take us where you couldn't protect us," Gordon reminded him. "If we want to go down to Earth do we have to hire a different agency? If you can make a case it's that dangerous, then maybe we'll reconsider. Do you have a specific threat that concerns you?"

"Wasn't being shot in the head specific enough for you?" Dixon asked. "Public sentiment is actually on your side off Earth and yet somebody still tried to kill you here. If he'd used a modern weapon he'd have blown your head off. On Earth itself there are a few dozen organizations, that all would applaud that. I admit there is no one credible threat, in any of the mail or packages you received, but I simply can't make you entirely safe from a lone kook who is smart enough to get close to you."

"My shooter was an Earthie too," Gordon reminded him. "So all those Earthies, so close, they can get to us here if they wish pretty easily. The price of a ticket from Earth isn't all that steep. We have reasons to show Lee a Human society. Otherwise, we could just head back home. We do want to play the tourist a bit, but the Grand Canyon or Kilauea volcano are not going to ambush us. We can pass on Broadway plays and neither of us is interested in the local debaucheries. I'm guessing the way things are going it won't be safer to come back in ten years from now, will it?"

"No, I think you have that right," Dixon admitted. "I've been thinking more and more of going colonial myself. Earth has become too confining, and all the kooks and nuts who didn't fit in with marginal in skills or intelligence went to Mars, not out-system when they couldn't qualify for colony slots. Ten years from now I might not be here either."

"Come down with us if it will make you feel any better. Will your company rules let you escort us personally?" Gordon asked.

"If you request it, not just allow it. Though my boss will think you are nuts to request me, after I let you get shot once already," Richard said.

"Richard, I'd much prefer you to come to Earth with us. Will you make arrangements for that please?" Gordon said very formally.

"On one condition," Richard held out.

"What's that?"

"No-Disney-World."

"Not a problem at all my man," Gordon assured him.

* * *

"What's that smell?" Lee asked, halfway down the ramp to the Mohave Spaceport terminal. The long connector tunnel was off white with slick plastic walls.

Gordon lifted his nose and swung his head back and forth like a bloodhound, making a great show of sampling the air. "Earth, gritty dusty blowing earth, far too many people, a bit of Diesel exhaust, disinfectant, chili dogs and cheap cologne."

"They let dogs in the terminal?" Lee asked. She was afraid she was being set up for a joke again. Her guards described all sorts of silly things when she asked questions, playing off her naïveté. Mark and Aaron had gone ahead and the others traveled closely with them.

"Indeed, they do in carriers," Jesus explained, amused for some reason.

Lee stopped asking anything further; sure it would simply show her ignorance.

"Wait until you have to use a public restroom," Richard warned grimly.

"Citizenship and papers," demanded a man in blue pants and white shirt. He had a gold shield on his chest with an intricate design and a white fabric cap with a black visor, that deserved an ocean-going vessel as an accessory. Jesus and Richard went first and presented passports. They were scanned and they each looked in a machine briefly. When they hesitated and didn't walk off down the corridor, the Customs agent looked back up and informed them that was all and they were free to go.

"Yes sir, thank you." Richard agreed. "However we are with the young lady and Derf gentleman, as hired security," he explained pleasantly.

"Indeed?" he said lifting an eyebrow, "Suit yourselves then," the man allowed, but his attitude changed and he examined Lee and Gordon with fresh curiosity.

He didn't waste much time on Gordon and barely glanced at his papers. There was no hiding what he was. Lee however, caused him to look askance at her, like he was the one being set up for a joke. He examined her spacer papers in detail and inquired verbally of his computer for possible matches on runaways and kidnap victims. Her name he traced out with an index finger and lifted an eyebrow.

"So, young lady, you are a working spacer?" he inquired. His voice was deep and gravelly, but not unfriendly. There was definite skepticism there, however.

"I am," Lee assured him in a calm voice. "I was born to ship life and have not known anything else." She hoped that wasn't volunteering too much, remembering Gordon's warning about being too quick to volunteer information.

"Ah, that's a new one on me," he told her, still worried about something. "You aren't being coerced to accompany any of these gentlemen?" he inquired with genuine concern. "If you are being moved against your will, now is your chance to speak up, because I can bring a whole lot of officers down on us in a matter of seconds."

"Not at all," Lee assured him. "I grew up with Gordon, and now that my parents are dead he's the only family I have. The two fellows with us are hired," she said, nodding towards Richard and Jesus. "They take my orders, not the other way around." Lee stopped and bit her lip a little, thinking of the implications of his interrogation. "Is that something that happens so often around here you are quick to worry about it?" she asked concerned. "Should I worry about it?" she asked even plainer.

"Not – every day," he admitted, embarrassed now. "Still, when you are in the urban areas it’s best you stick tight to your security people," he advised. "I've been on this job for some years and I have seen too many young girls like you trafficked across the border for nefarious purposes," he admitted, somewhat vaguely.

"Thank you," Lee said taking her papers back. "I appreciate your advice." Now she had to look in her com-pad dictionary as soon as she had a moment and look up nefarious. She wasn't sure what it meant, but the way he said it sounded bad, and being trafficked sounded worse. If Gordon couldn't explain that, she bet Richard could. They walked through a one-way gate and security scan, into public spaces.

The port looked much like orbital stations they'd visited, except the corridors were laid out straight instead of curved. The restaurants and shops seemed about the same. The single customs agent had not been armed and didn't seem like very intensive security, but there were pairs of security people scattered about in the public area in uniform, with com gear and stubby little guns hanging on web harnesses.

A man coming toward them shook the last few pieces of something in his hand and tossed them all in his mouth. She watched as he held the empty box down by his leg and let it drop on the carpet. Her mouth fell open at the brazen behavior and she looked at her guards, but they seemed oblivious to it. She wanted to say something, but clamped her mouth back shut and took her cue from them to ignore it. She intended to ask about it later though.

The walls of the corridor were flat panel displays, from ceiling to floor and even the windows of shops and restaurants would opaque briefly to full-size ads and then back clear. The constant flicker of them upset Lee for some reason she didn't understand. The ads were glaring – shifting bright colors and images faster than she could absorb one before it was gone. One showed pines and a restful mountain scene, then flashed an image of a Grizzly bear lunging forward with fangs and claws displayed when she looked. It was so disturbing she flinched away and stumbled into Jesus.

Lee looked far down the wide hallway to avoid the screens flickering beside her, although the light reflected off the floor and people. After a bit, she saw a pattern.

"The ads go off when people walk by don't they?" she asked her companions.

"They not only sense people walking by, but they scan for age and gender too," Richard explained. "Some bank cards have a little echo circuit in them that they can read. So the computer can adjust the ad to what you can afford, or show things you've shown an interest in buying before, like golf stuff or certain kinds of restaurants. Do you have a card on you?"

"Yeah, I've got a debit card in my pouch," Lee remembered.

"We'll stop and get you a little cover for it that blocks reading it. Any drug store has them, usually in three packs," Richard said.

Chapter 27

The glass doors to outside the terminal looked like an airlock until one set opened as they approached and not three meters ahead another set opened at the same time. It just felt wrong. It was hot outside, which was unexpected. Nobody had warned her and it actually smelled worse outside. Hot to the point Lee beaded with sweat before Richard could direct her into a small bus. Her guards faced each way at the door, with a hard expression she hadn't seen before. Their eyes were moving around searching in the glare.

Lee put her hand beside the door to steady herself. It was a fairly big step up, to the tread that folded down in the door opening, then a smaller step up to the floor inside. She was surprised again because the outside of the bus was all gritty under her hand. Too late she saw there were grab bars inside the opening. When she took the seat Jesus pointed to as hers, Lee examined her hand. The inside was all gray with fine grimy dust and there was a long dark streak of it soiling her sleeve halfway to her elbow. She got out a sani-wipe and cleaned her hand and folded it shut and used the outside to scrub at the sleeve. It didn't do much good. In fact, she had to use a second wipe before her hand felt clean.

It was cold on the bus. So cold Lee felt clammy when it hit the sweat on her skin. The windows looked almost black as they approached the bus, but looking out now it was still bright. Her spex could be tinted, but she had to hunt for the menu. It had to be darkened to 70% before it seemed to make much difference.

Looking at everybody else they all had on gloves. Even Gordon had gloves on his true hands and a pair of rugged work gloves on his lower hands. She dug around in her purse and got a pair out of the envelope of them she'd been given. Nobody seemed to notice her putting them on, much less give her a hard time about forgetting.

The view outside was buildings, most of them, despite attempts at decoration, were basically big boxes much the same. There were some clusters of palms or desert plants in front of a few, but no big areas of landscaping. It was quickly boring.

Lee looked around the bus with more interest. There was one narrow screen above the driver's security barrier running an ad for a hotel. The plastic let her see the driver and the road ahead, but it was nicked and scratched and dingy with handprints and smudges.

The closer she looked, every little corner had a grimy little crescent of dirt. Whoever cleaned never got the bus all the way clean. The parts that were painted all had scratches and even bare metal patches where the paint was rubbed off. The plastic was scuffed and the seat's upholstery had areas that were stained too bad to clean up. It made her lean forward and pull her elbows in, not wanting to touch anything.

The arrival at the hotel was another quick blast of heat, light, and a rush through revolving doors this time into cool air, but not chill. The inside was quiet with softer lighting, a patterned carpet, and leather furniture set among ferns and palmettos. The plants she had expected outside were inside in abundance, some reaching high into the atrium. For the first time, it smelled nice. There was a waxy green smell of the plants and coffee and something odd it took her a few seconds to place, then she realized it was popcorn. Richard went to the desk for them, but everyone else went straight to the elevators where someone was waiting to escort them to their rooms.

The suite was huge, the common room on the north corner with a terrace at the point beyond a glass wall. A table and chairs sat outside the glass in brilliant sunlight.

A slab of some sort of stone was a table between low couches. A basket of fruit wrapped in plastic sat on one end and a slim notebook occupied the other end with a voice only com holding it down. Lee wondered what the notebook held so she took it and sank down in the cushions. The couch slowly changed shape under her the backrest coming forward, tilting back slightly and the seat dropping until her legs could reach the floor. It fit her perfectly.

She opened the folder and found it was all the services the hotel offered. It also assured guests that all the surfaces and controls in the suite were disinfected after every guest. The bathrooms she was surprised to learn were self-cleaning. That would have been nice onboard ship. Everybody took a turn at scut work on the High Hopes, but she too often seemed to be the one who didn't have something else pressing, that only they could do. But what an extravagant waste of water it must be, she realized.

The room service and bar items available were listed in detail on the house-com, but guests were welcome to order without reference to the menus and every effort would be made to meet expectations. Lee wondered how they would react to a request for Devil's Horn soup.

When she leaned back the couch adjusted under her and a footrest extended under her legs and lifted them. Lee was sleeping by the time Richard finished their business and joined them.

* * *

Lee woke up in a strange bed. The room wasn't dark, but the lights were very dim. There were two doors both open slightly. She picked the right one first try and found the bathroom. There was paper but no sani-wipes and she had to use a washcloth to clean up and didn't know where to put it after it was used. She just rinsed it carefully and draped it over the tub edge.

When she went to the common room Mark was sitting reading a book.

"Where is everybody?" Lee asked him.

"It's the middle of the local night, 0250," Mark informed her checking his com. "Your body clock is off. There's a pill to help, but if you can maybe have a snack and nap a little more it would be better. Otherwise, you are going to run out of steam again early tomorrow."

"I could use a bite. Is there a restaurant downstairs?" Lee asked.

"There is," he briefly looked uncomfortable, "but if you want to go down I'd have to wake somebody up, to either cover for me or go with you. We're at your pleasure, but it would mess our shifts up and leave somebody sleepy tomorrow. Why don't you use room service? They have everything you'd get downstairs."

"Is it really not safe to walk around in our own hotel?" Lee asked.

Mark puckered his lips and seemed to really consider the question."It's complicated," he admitted. "You'd be safe down in the lobby or restaurant, but I'm not comfortable alone in the corridors and elevators of a hotel, late at night by myself. And I will submit to you I know the culture and risk much better than you. I've worked hospitality security before. Hotels have their own security and they will have cameras on all the halls and elevators. But they never have enough people to watch every camera all the time. Most will use software that shows the people monitoring them only cameras that have a certain level of activity," Mark closed his book warming to the subject.

"The bigger the town, the bigger the population of people living by crime. And the fancier the hotel the more the guests are known to have money and be targets for crime. And the guests limit how safe you can keep them because they don't want to be guarded too closely. It's a balance for a hotel between keeping the facility safe and keeping it so safe they start losing business."

"You lost me. Why is too safe bad for business?" Lee asked.

Mark looked uncomfortable again. "Gordon told us you grew up isolated and you'd be naive about a lot of things. He said you were smart though and just to be blunt with you and not worry about polite conventions. You see, it's not normally polite for an unrelated man to speak bluntly about sexual things with a young girl. It's usually reserved to her close family. But your close family is a small mountain of fur that isn't even the same species and God only knows what his customs are, or what he considers proper. You know the mechanics, the biology of sex don't you?" He asked, hopeful that at least he would be spared from explaining that.

"Well sure, I took care of animals we had on ship, mice and rats and sparrows and pigs. I had to try to assign a sex to the specimens we collected on Providence, so I know some pretty far out variations of sex beyond Humans. We'd set up a shower in our camps and we all used it so I saw my dad naked. I assume he was, you know, representative," Lee said.

"That's good, but your family was off isolated from society. The sociology of sex is something you have not been exposed to bit by bit as you grow up. You haven't seen relatives flirt with each other, or couples fall in love and get married. God, you've probably never been to a wedding," Mark said suddenly thoughtful.

"No, but I've seen a few in movies," Lee offered.

"Ah, videos. You've seen movies about people competing for another person's affections then haven't you?"

"Sure. I know what a chick flick is and I've watched some movies about high school kids. I've seen two versions of "Romeo and Juliet". "Mark," Lee said very seriously, "are people really that stupid?"

He took a really deep breath and grimaced. "Yeah, I'm sorry to say they are. And when sex is involved otherwise intelligent people seem to suddenly lose all thinking capacity."

"So what does this have to do with hotels again?" Lee reminded him.

"Well, your mom and dad sound like they were good people and loved each other. They must have been for you to turn out as well as you have," Mark allowed. "But not all couples are happy with each other. That doesn't necessarily mean they get divorced. People have issues besides love, like money and religious restrictions, so some just cheat. Sometimes both of them. Some people are just plain sneaky and selfish, so they take lovers, or buy sex and hide it from their mate. And where do you think they go to get together for these illicit meetings?"

"Ah..." Lee looked around at the hotel like she was seeing it in a whole new light.

"And people travel on business away from home. They like to cut up where they think nobody they know will see. So they get drunk and do things they wouldn't do at home. The hotel has to balance safety, against guests who want to take strangers to their rooms and people who come back to their rooms drunk or high on stuff, or both, not exactly showing good judgment."

"What about the police? Don't they make trouble for the hotel?"

"Lee, the city is just like the hotel. They try to contain the trouble to a reasonable level, but not kill business. It's impossible to eliminate it. Sex with somebody who is not your wife, or another single person is not illegal most places, just paying for it is, and that can be mighty tough to prove. You reach a point cracking down where you irritate your average citizen enough to get a backlash. People want things run tight enough there is an appearance of order on the street, but not so tight they can't do what they want in private. Besides, vice is an organized business and they corrupt the police to look the other way with money in any big city. It's not a question of are they corrupt but how corrupt?" Mark said.

"Thank you for explaining. Some of the movies I saw make more sense now," Lee said.

"There are movies that are pretty blunt and crude about this world. I doubt your folks ever wanted to show them to you, not porn, but what they would call adult themes. I'll talk to Gordon and see if he thinks some would benefit you," Mark promised.

"OK, I'm starved. I'm ordering some breakfast sent up. Do you want anything?" Lee asked.

Chapter 28

The second time Lee got up the sun was bright out on the terrace and she found Gordon planning what to go see. Richard sat back sipping coffee noncommittal. There was enough left over breakfast still warm on the table, that she just browsed on that and listened.

The redwood trees seemed like something she wanted to see and she very much wanted to see some of the preserved area of local desert and Joshua trees near the hotel. None of the other possibilities they were discussing seemed that interesting. When they bogged down she jumped in.

"We're right on the edge of Los Angeles. How about taking us for a ride through the city and let me see what this urban Earth society really looks like?" Lee suggested.

"Some areas of the city are too dangerous," Richard objected. "Ground level traffic is so slow it would take all day to drive through LA from North to South. Do you want to waste a whole day seeing what an Earth city looks like?"

"Yeah, I really would," Lee said, "but as a compromise how about if we just get a local driver who knows where we shouldn't go. Your company would have one, wouldn't they? I was looking at a map on com. There's a big airport right in the middle of the city. How about if we drive to it in the morning and then take a plane or helicopter from there, to see these big trees you are talking about?"

Gordon and Richard looked at each other. "We can go out and see the Mohave Desert this afternoon," Gordon suggested. "A little later in the day actually," Richard agreed. "It's supposed to be pretty hot today and we can go to a section of the park highly recommended to me when the sun is lower. It should be beautiful at sunset."

"Works for me," Lee agreed quickly. "There are some shops downstairs. How about somebody giving me an escort and I'll buy a nice hat for the sun?"

* * *

Lee found a bright white hat, with an enormous brim that seemed perfect. Diana got its twin at her urging, Lee's treat. Another small shop had a chain in the window that caught her eye. The workmanship of it intrigued her. The clerk informed her that the style was called Byzantine and it came graduated like the one in the shop window, or straight like one he pointed out in the case. He seemed momentarily surprised when she slapped down her card and indicated she'd like the one in the window. His eyes flicked a question to Diana momentarily and right back to her.

"That's Platinum and Twenty-Two Karat Gold," he informed her.

"That's nice, I don't really care about the material," Lee explained. "It's just pretty."

He brought a big box with a velvet bust in it to hold the necklace and papers.

"I'd like to just wear it," Lee explained. "We're traveling and I don't want a big box like this. Would you have something like a little bag to hold it when it's in my duffel?" That produced a suede drawstring bag with the jeweler's name embossed in gold on the side, but he insisted she keep the receipt and certificate, pointing out the workmanship was guaranteed.

It was fun using her card again. Lee got her thumb on the taste pad right this time and it swiped with no trouble. She looked around and Diana was leaning back in the corner where two display cases met behind her, an elbow on each case.

"Did you see anything you'd like?" Lee asked innocently. Diana shook her head no, smiling and followed her out of the store, treasuring the look on the salesman's face.

The tiny store next door had music and videos, as well as players and spex. She started to go through an arch into the back of the store but was stopped by a panicky clerk, who informed her that was an adult restricted area. She was so taken aback she didn't know what to say.

"What are you looking for?" he asked pleasantly. "I know a lot about music and cinema both and would be happy to make recommendations."

"What do you have about organized crime and the darker side of society?" Lee inquired.

Just like at the jewelry store his eyes flicked to Diana and back, but he regarded her seriously and gave it some thought. "Do you like classic films, Missy?" he asked smiling. They were surprisingly cheap as a download and she didn't need something else to lug around, so she just had them loaded to her com.

"Have you seen these films?" Lee asked Diana, back out in the lobby.

"I've seen "The Sting", Diana acknowledged. "I've heard of "The Godfather" but I never watched it. If you run them on the big screen in our rooms I wouldn't mind seeing "The Sting" again. It was pretty good."

After they watched it Lee shook her head and looked at Diana. "Being crooked is a lot of work." Diana looked oddly at her. "Sometimes being honest is an effort too," she said.

Lee thought she was through, but after a bit, Diana spoke again. "Lee honey, when you asked if I saw anything I wanted in the jewelry store today, did you mean to treat me just like the hat?"

"Well, yeah. Why shouldn't I? You're good company and I appreciate your work. I like you. It seemed like a nice thing to do. Did I offend you somehow?" Lee asked, concerned.

Diana drew a deep breath and shook her head no. She smiled and patted Lee’s arm. "You mean well, Lee, but you need to talk to somebody about what is appropriate for gifts. I think you are a great kid, but this is another of those social things. There wasn't a thing in that store, that wasn't way too much money for me to accept as a casual gift. If I'd let you buy me a piece of jewelry worth months of my wages, Richard would be entirely correct to fire me. All the other guards would regard me as taking advantage of you. You need to know this stuff because if you are overly generous you will have people take advantage of you."

"But the hat is OK?"

"The hat is fine Sweetie," Diana assured her, "thank you."

* * *

The thing that struck Lee about the desert was the colors. She'd expected it to be empty and drab, but instead, there was so much detail and bright color, it was beautiful. She took a lot of stills and sweeping video with her camera at a couple of pull-offs. The number of hawks was astonishing too. One section of road they drove had literally one hawk on each utility pole along the highway.

"Whatever do they eat?" Lee wondered.

"Smaller birds, rodents, and snakes," Jesus explained. "Most come out at night."

"It's hard to believe there are enough to feed them," Lee said.

"Pull over," Jesus told the driver. "I want to show her something."

The sun was getting low on the horizon and cast shadows across the sand. "See all the lines and squiggles in the dirt?" Jesus asked Lee.

"Yes, what does that? The wind?"

"No, the wind would make parallel lines if there was less brush, but these go every which way and cross each other," Jesus pointed out.

"What are they then?" Lee said, not getting it.

"Snake tracks."

Lee looked at them, considering how many snakes there had to be to draw line after line until the new overwrote the old. Then looked at the size of the desert stretched to the horizon in every direction. That was a lot of snakes.

"We're going to walk out there?" Lee asked.

"Yes, but carefully," Jesus agreed.

The trail was a short one, well marked and not too steep anywhere. There were little plaques explaining the plants and geology along the way. It was way too brief and they returned to the car in the dusk, with the sky a dark cobalt blue. On the way back Lee was horrified when they ran over a series of the snakes slithering out on the hot road in the cooling evening. They made a solid thump-thump under the wheels.

"Don't worry," Jesus explained. "The hawks and other birds like buzzards won't waste the ones we ran over. They'll clean the road up before the sun is very high in the morning."

Back at their hotel they had a late supper and went to bed early. The hike, though short, made Lee appreciate both the meal and her bed.

Chapter 29

The Sun wasn't up yet when Gordon sent Diana in to wake Lee. She showered and dressed simply, in Jeans and T-shirt with comfortable tennis shoes. She had spex but took her com anyway, because it had a much better camera for the redwoods. It was too dressy for the other stuff but she wore her new necklace just because she liked it. She considered her big hat and decided she didn't want to deal with it in the car and put on a simple baseball cap she'd owned forever.

Gordon insisted they would get food on the road. Lee's stomach was growling, but she didn't complain. She didn't figure Gordon would fast very long from her experience.

Jesus went ahead to the car carrying some things. Diana and she rode the elevator down alone. It had stopped with other people on it, but Diana made her wait until they had one empty.

Lee felt like pointing out they might still have somebody come aboard below them, but they didn't.

The lobby was quiet this early but a young man in jeans and denim jacket hurried past them to catch the elevator before the doors closed. Lee heard a soft >thump< and turned to Diana to see what made the odd sound. Diana was sprawled loosely across the floor a few steps back.

Lee froze in place, shocked at the scene and mouth hanging open. Then she was yanked backward hard by her neck chain. She stumbled back off balance and crashed into the chest of the fellow in denim. He was an experienced chain snatcher, but her chain had thick links and sturdy construction outside his experience. It hurt where the chain dug into her neck and it raked the front of her neck as he tried to pull it over her head and just jammed under her chin.

"Help!" Lee yelled, twisting, trying to face her attacker. "Jesus! Help me!"

"Stupid Bible Thumper - Jesus isn't going to help you," her attacker laughed in her ear. He was struggling to get the chain and hold onto his sap at the same time.

Lee turned halfway toward him and used what her mother had taught her. She clasped her hands together and used all the strength of both arms to smash her elbow up into the man's nose. Warm blood sprayed down her arm and across her ear and cheek. The fellow let go and bounced off the wall behind him. She was turned fully to meet him on the bounce. He took one step forward and she met him halfway. She kicked his knee with the bottom of her foot, leaning into it with all her weight. It made a very satisfactory crunch.

He fell forward knocking her to the side in passing and landed with his arms thrown up to break his fall. Lee almost went down herself, scrambling a few skipping steps to catch her balance. The robber struggled to get up but the knee failed and took him back down to his hands and knees.

Lee had a good six step run back to him and used that to build momentum. Her right foot caught him solidly in the face as he saw the motion and turned to look. If his head were a football she'd have lofted it forty yards easily for a field goal. Unfortunately, it was attached at the neck, but it was a good effort. Pain radiated up her leg from the abused foot and her motion carried her past the man, so she sprawled on the slick marble floor.

When Jesus came in all three of them were down. All the blood alarmed him since he didn't know none of it was hers. She tried to sit up, but Jesus put a hand on her chest and firmly pushed her back flat.

"Wait until I look you over. Where does it hurt?" He asked with the most serious expression she had seen on him.

"My foot," Lee gasped. "I felt it crunch."

"Your foot?" Jesus asked, looking confused. The right side of her face and arm were all spotted with blood.

"I kicked the sonofabitch," Lee said

"Now, now. You've been watching too much video. That isn't ladylike," Jesus reproved her. But he moved down all the same and examined her foot. "Yikes, I'll say you did a number on it. It's changing color and swelling already. I'm going to loosen the laces, but don't pull it off. You may need to walk on it."

"I'm OK," Lee insisted. "Check Diana. He knocked her out."

"You are the client. If I didn't tend you first Diana would be all over me. There," he said, after untying the laces and pulling them loose all the way down to the toes. "You can sit up if you want. But if you feel dizzy, lay down before you fall down. Now I'll check Diana."

Jesus touching her seemed to rouse Diana and she rolled on her side and threw up all over the floor. Jesus held her shoulders until she was done and felt her neck and head carefully. "You have one hell of a goose egg rising here," he informed her. "but no sign of a depression, so maybe no fracture."

"Lee?" Diana croaked at Jesus and spit out saliva and vomit after. Then if that wasn't indignantly enough, she got hiccups. The robber woke up and started moaning in pain.

"She'll be OK. Screwed her foot up trying to punt the perp's head into Nevada."

"Gotta use your heel," Diana assured him solemnly, blinking and still dazed.

"I guess her momma didn't teach her that," Jesus allowed. "Still, she took down an armed male of about 80 kilos and he's crying over there with a leg bent to hell the wrong way and it looks like she busted his cheekbones pretty bad."

"Shit, I'm supposed to be guarding her," Diana said in disgust.

"That's not the problem," Jesus reminded her. "This is Earth."

"Oh crap, tell the cops I did him," Diana begged.

"I'd take the rap myself dear, but the idiot boy decided to rob her where there have to be at least six security cameras, recording it in stereo from every angle."

"Shit."

"Indeed."

* * *

The EMS arrived before the police. They had the mugger trainee lashed on a board, immobilizing his neck and after a quick look and verbal consult let Lee and Diana sit where they were, while they worked on him.

When the uniformed police came in the door Diana looked at Lee and told her. "Don't talk to anybody. Just ask for a lawyer. I don't care if it takes a week or a year. Gordon and we will work at getting you loose, but you have to help us."

"Huh?" Lee asked confused. "He attacked me! I mean Us. What are you talking about?"

"No time to explain. They are going to arrest you, probably me too. Just keep your mouth shut," Diana told her firmly. "You can tell them who you are and ask for a lawyer. That's it."

"That's pretty much what Gordon told me once," Lee remembered.

"Smart guy. Listen to him," Diana said. Jesus just made a confirming "uh hmm," noise.

* * *

The cop who spoke had stripes on his sleeve. That meant he had rank, even if Lee couldn't remember what to call it.

"OK, what's going on here?" he asked them sternly. When nobody answered he pointed to Jesus. "What gives, guy?"

"I was outside and didn't see anything," Jesus answered truthfully.

"Huh," the cops said. He didn't look convinced. "You," he pointed at Diana. "How did," he hesitated and inspected Jesus' condition quickly, "three people get injured?"

"I have no idea. I woke up with a headache after it was all over. Anything else you'll have to ask Blackwater corporate counsel because I am not authorized to speak for the company."

"Shit, you're mercenaries?" the cop asked looking at Jesus again cautiously. Since he was whole and upright he might be a threat.

"We are employees of Blackwater Executive Security." Jesus corrected him. "We do not offer military services," he assured him.

He left Lee for last after the adults. "What's going on, kid? How'd you get hurt?"

"My lawyer is Stanley McPherson, of Moore, Harper, Goldberg, and McPherson. I have their contact information memorized if you wish it. I'd like him to speak for me. I am injured as is my employee," she nodded at Diana. "We need medical treatment and I'd appreciate it if you'd contact my father."

Jesus and Diana looked relieved. The cop looked disgusted and not at all friendly anymore.

"Nobody your age knows to lawyer up, 'cept they’ve been in deep shit before," he sneered.

Lee didn't dignify it with a response. Where was Gordon? They must have been concerned when they delayed and sent Jesus. Then she remembered they had little radios. Maybe it was better not to have a half-ton of angry father here at the moment. The cop had his hand locked on his pistol – the real one, not the Taser – ever since he found out Jesus and Diana were Blackwater. Her mom had told her several times never to scare a man with a gun.

* * *

Lee had thought the spaceport was grimy and depressing. That was because she hadn't seen the police station. The ride downtown was in a minibus, much worse than the one to the airport. It smelled of vomit and urine and cheap harsh antiseptic. She'd have rather not touched the seat, but with her hands cuffed behind her, that wasn't an option.

Her foot still hurt and the police had dismissed the EMS crew because she and Diana were both conscious and not bleeding. Her objection that Diana had been knocked unconscious and needed to be examined almost got her Tasered. Jesus was not only arrested and riding with them but had leg manacles and a chain on too. He laughed at her surprise and said he took it as a compliment. Lee couldn't figure out why he was along at all.

"They will likely split us up and question us separately," Diana told her. "We may not see you again for a while. You've been very brave. Earth law is kind of screwy. They often argue a person has no right to defend themselves. Especially for what they may label a property crime. See how that might apply here?" She was being vague, obviously worried they might be recorded even here.

"Yeah. Thanks for the heads up," Lee told her.

"I might not see you again. I should probably get fired for failing to protect you. I do apologize for that, Lee."

"Crud, I'm afraid to really talk about it," Lee told her looking around at the ceiling to convey they might not have privacy.

"Yes, exactly," Diana agreed.

"I don't blame you at all. I thought you guys were nuts to assign two guards to each of us all the time, but that was the error here I think. Jesus should have been with us, even in the hotel in the daytime," Lee said.

"Yep," Jesus agreed. "That was our error. However, it did fall within our instructions to drop to one escort inside a semi-secure area. So the case can be made the company shares the error with us. I don't think Freddy will can either one of us," he told Diana.

"If one of you talks to my dad, tell him I think he should get off this dirtball. If he stays around and causes them trouble he may end up in jail with us. He can use our money and be more effective, from a safe distance. That's what we hired Stanley to do. If the very worst happens, tell him I will appeal to my Champion," Lee said. That got an odd look from Diana.

"The way juvenile law works in North America, even if that creep dies in the hospital, you should be free when you reach your majority. It's not like you are facing a life sentence," Diana assured her. Lee didn't find it assuring.

"When would that be?" Lee asked her.

"When you reach eighteen."

 "Diana, I'm twelve. That is a life sentence to me. It's as long as everything I remember, so it's like forever," she wailed.

"Are they going to take my stuff?" Lee suddenly asked.

"Well sure. That's standard in-processing." Diana said like it was no big deal.

Lee took off her Emerald earring, closed it back shut, and put it in her mouth.

"They may check there Honey," Diana warned her.

She swallowed and struggled. It didn't want to go down and it hurt, but she did it.

The bus stopped moving and they shut up. Just as Diana had warned they were led off separately. The guard leading her frowned at her limp and then just scooped her up and carried her effortlessly, without question or explanation.

After a search and removal of all personal items, she was issued a wrist band that was crimped in place. She was informed the band constituted a receipt for her property. All that effort and they didn't look in her mouth. Lee expected to be put in a cell, but they went to a bare room with a table and chairs. She was happy to get off her foot.

The cop who came in was in a suit, not a uniform. Even to Lee he still looked like a cop. He called for more chairs and a couple of younger lackeys rushed to get them.

"How old are you kid?" the suit wanted to know. Lee hesitated just an instant.

"Just shy of twelve standard years," Lee said volunteering nothing else.

"What other kinds are there?" he asked, frowning.

"Other planets have different years, just like they have different days. I've spent most of my life on a starship. We often were at relativisticly significant velocities, or entirely outside this universe where time runs differently. So I'm just shy of twelve Terran years of age, as I've experienced on my personal clock. That might be quite different from what somebody else experienced in a different reference frame."

"Marty, call protective services and tell them we have a female minor in custody and request transport and custodial services," he demanded. "I knew you weren't eighteen, but the policy is that I ask," he told Lee. "What's your name kid?"

"I'm the First daughter, of the Third love son, of the Four Hundred-Seventy Third First Mother of Red Tree, by the Hero of the Chain Bound Lands, Second line of the short-haired folk, of Gordon - Lee Anderson."

"Jez," the cop muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, "nothing is ever simple around here."

"The machine says 97% probability she believes that Lieutenant," one minion said.

"Of course it does," he agreed with a dismissive flip of his hand.

"Do you know a Diana Morrigan McDonald of Fargone?" he asked.

"If that is the Diana I was brought in with, yes. She’s hired security. The man named Jesus who came in with us is also our employee."

"Ms. McDonald seems to have sustained an injury. Can you tell us how that happened?"

"No. I'd like you to call my attorney and have him answer your questions for me. This is the second time I've made that request. I was given to understand that was a basic point of Earth law. Was I told wrong?" Lee asked.

"You have not been charged with anything. We're still trying to decide if we should even arrest you. A little cooperation would go a long way towards favorable decisions for you."

"Good," Lee said, happy to hear it. "If I'm not arrested will you get me a ride back to my father? He must be worried about me. I'd feel a lot safer if you'd send my hired security back with me too."

"You are however temporarily detained in our custody," He said rather patiently.

"Since I can't see any difference between the two, you see why I need my lawyer."

"Did you have contact previously with the young man who attacked your guard?"

"Is that what happened?" Lee asked. "I didn't see what happened myself. I heard a noise, but anything I would conclude happened would be an inference. I simply wasn't looking that way, so I really can't help you even if I wanted to."

"Nobody saw nothing. The fellow Jesus has the same story."

"He was outside at our car, loading some things up. How could he have seen anything?" Lee said.

The suited one looked at the minion working a machine of some sort. He made a little confirming check mark in the air with one finger, frowning."

"Ms. McDonald had a Fargone passport and Mr. Rousseau is a native of the principality of Monaco," he informed her. "Does your father have possession of your passport?" he asked.

"Jesus, you mean? I didn't know his last name. I sort of assumed it would be Hispanic. Anyway, Derf don't issue passports," Lee volunteered. "I'm traveling on my spacer's papers."

"Derf?"

"My adoptive father is a citizen of Derfhome," she said, then decided she was getting suckered into talking too much and should clam up.

"Well, we have all sorts of possibilities to offend foreign powers and create diplomatic difficulties here don't we? I'm holding you all until the morning and we'll see what the folks several pay grades above me want to do with you. With a little luck we'll never see each other again," he said, with a charming smile.

It wasn't long until a woman in civilian clothing and a female uniformed officer came for her. They put the cuffs back on, but when they pulled them out she offered her hands in front and they allowed that. It wasn't much of a victory. They had a little battery-powered cart outside in the corridor, so at least she didn't have to walk. After a few turns they took a ramp down and drove along a tunnel far enough they must be taking her to another building.

"Can you tell me what is going to happen to me? I mean right now, today?" Lee asked.

"Although you are a juvenile, you may be charged with criminal offenses," the one in civvies informed her. "Or the court may determine you are not willfully criminal, but are in danger or in need of protection. At your age, you will not be tried as an adult. We have a right to keep you in custody until a determination is made. There will be a hearing, likely in the morning, but within seventy-two hours in any case. As you are a minor someone will be appointed to represent your interests."

"I have counsel retained. I'd like Stanley McPherson of Moore, Harper, Goldberg, and McPherson to see to my interests," Lee insisted again.

"Tell it to the judge, dear," the new woman said.

Chapter 30

The jail had a fancy name. It was still a jail. It had the same apple green walls and nasty smell the adult jail had. At least she got to use a toilet and the cuffs came off. She saw all her stuff in the jail envelope, dropped whole into a new jail envelope. They crimped a new plastic bracelet on her with her name and a number, after cutting the old one.

Lee was issued a uniform of thin cotton and cheap plastic sandals. She couldn't get her foot under the toe straps on the right one so she just stuck it in her waistband. She pointed out her swollen discolored foot to the guard and asked if she could get it looked at by a doctor.

"Today is Sunday. The nurse comes around on Monday and Wednesday. I'll put you on the list. If she runs out of time tomorrow she'll get to you Wednesday likely."

"Is there any way I can make a com call?" Lee asked. "I haven't made one since I've been arrested."

"Com is a privilege," the guard informed her. Lee noticed her tag and read she was Elizabeth - W. "You aren't arrested in any case. The blue bracelet says you're in temporary custody so you'll have a hearing quickly enough. You can ask for a call there."

It seemed like she'd be better off arrested.

Lee was walked down a long hall with doors. They started at 24 and went down odd and even on alternate sides. The guard stopped and pushed door 6 open, but didn't go in.

"That's your bunk. Sink and toilet in there, but the showers are across the day room at the end of the hall. You use them when issued clean clothing unless you get permission. There's no loitering in the rooms unless you are being punished or the place is in lock-down. Follow me now and you'll join the other girls in the day room until supper. Just watch where everybody goes and what they do for supper. After supper, you get two more hours in the day room and then you return to your bunk room. The lights power down over the next half hour." They reached the door at the end of the corridor. "Any questions?" she asked sternly.

"No ma'am, thank you," Lee forced herself to say. This woman was not the one putting her in jail. No point in needlessly making enemies. But she might have laid it on a little too thick. The woman looked at her sharply, like she wasn't sure if she was being smart-mouthed. Lee did her best to look bland. The woman used her pass card to open the door briefly for Lee, but stayed behind and pulled the door shut.

The day room was a little better than the cells, bunk rooms, Lee corrected herself. It wasn't green, just a yucky pink and bits of red and orange, with a speckled sort of a carpet designed not to show dirt. The level of dirt had however defeated it. There were a couple of light pipes in the ceiling, but no windows.

There was a mix of girls, all in the cheap uniforms. She seemed to be about the median age and they ranged plus or minus three years or so. It felt weird. She'd never had to interact with girls her own age. Here she was with more girls than she had ever seen and she felt more alone than she ever had in her life. A few looked up at her, with carefully neutral expressions, but nobody approached, so she picked an empty chair against the wall and got off her injured foot, looked around trying to see if there was any pattern to what her jail-mates were doing.

Most of them were in clusters. A few around a TV. Some more at what must be computers against another wall. One screen had a girl seated and two looking over either shoulder. They must not have com loaded though, unless it was password protected. There was some exercise equipment in one corner, but no free weights.

One of the three girls, unattached to any group, approached her and sat in a chair next to her, scooting it around to face her a bit. It was a big boxy chair, identical to hers but upholstered in another color. It was visibly hard to move, too heavy to be lofted for a weapon, Lee figured out.

"What you in for?" the girl inquired.

"I don't think it would be smart to talk about it here," Lee told her. "They might have listening devices," she said looking up at the corners of the room like she might see them.

"Nah, we're small stuff. Not like political prisoners, or wreckers. Of course, I could be a stoolie," she allowed. "But there isn't much here worth that much trouble either. What's your name at least, if that's no secret?"

"Lee. What's yours?"

"Rachel."

"You have a soft way of speaking. Are you a local? I've been raised away from most people, so I'm not used to different accents. I have no idea what a wrecker is and I only know stoolie from old movies."

"No kidding? I like old movies too. A wrecker is, you know, a person who goes out and busts stuff. Somebody mad who does it to screw up the government. But there's so much of it businesses do it to each other because they can blame it on the wreckers."

"Oh, sabotage," Lee said. "I didn't know it was a big problem."

The girl looked at her oddly. "Where are you from, that you wouldn't know that? I mean, they keep it out of the news 'cause they think it makes people copy-cat, ya know? But everybody has had the lights go out, or been out on a bus when the traffic net goes screwy and the cars all have to go manual and crawl."

"I'm from completely off-planet. I came in from Derfhome via Luna just a few days ago."

"Wow, then you really need somebody to tell you what's going on. I've never met a spacer. You want to team up?" Rachel offered. "It's hard being single in here. If one of the cliques decides to give you a hard time, you gonna need help."

"Let me think about that a minute," Lee told her. The girl seemed sincere. She just might have information that would save Lee trouble. But there were two other girls alone. Why was that? "Why haven't you formed a clique with either of the two other girls I see alone?"

"The dark-haired one? I tried talking to her and she nuts, ya know? I asked her a couple of simple questions and she babbled back some trash like she was talking to somebody else. Go over and try if you want, she has that wild-eyed crazy look too. Can't talk enough sense with her to know if she agrees to anything and you team yourself to somebody like that good luck. You never know what her craziness will make her do to piss off the others and drag you into her trouble."

"What about the light-haired one?" Lee asked.

"Blondie? She say she don' need to team up with no darkie," Rachel said bitterly.

"That's a word for black people right?" Lee asked, remembering Dixon.

"A very nasty insulting word. But I don't want trouble in here so I let it go."

Lee examined her again. "You don't look black. The supervisor of our security from Blackwater Executive Protection is a black guy. He's much darker and his face is shaped differently and his hair is all tight kinky. He just looks completely different than you."

"My grandma was black and my granddaddy white on my mom's side," Rachel said. "Though I never met him. My dad had white and Korean parents. I may not look African, but Blondie sees enough black there to look down her skinny nose at me, ya know? She likely not too thrilled with the Korean either, if she can pick that out."

"People really think that way much?" Lee asked.

"Enough. It's against the law to actually treat people bad 'cause a what they are. But you can't change how people think with a law. My mom said it gets a little better every generation. I ain't been around long enough to say. Mom usually has the right of stuff."

"Why are you in here?" Lee put her original question right back to her.

"I was broke and asked my boyfriend for some money. Too close to a police microphone. They took it all wrong and called it solicitation, you know? Not like I just met him. Just happened to be needing some money, said it the wrong place. Nothing wrong asking your honey for some help. He'd ask the same from me, he broke. Think they'd charge him? Nah."

"Indeed. Outside my experience," Lee said, "but I can sympathize."

"I showed you mine. You wanna tell me why you here now?"

"Uh-huh. My story is similar to yours, wrong place, wrong time, misunderstanding. I was running to get away from this fellow who tried to rip my necklace off my neck. I wasn't watching where I was going and I sort of tripped over his, uh, face," Lee said.

Rachel looked at her purple foot. "Damn, you tripped hard honey. What was his face doing down by the floor?"

"Well, we had kind of bumped into each other." Rachel nodded, and patiently waited for Lee to explain it in full.

"Bumped each other twice really. The first time, he kind of bounced away. But when he bounced off the wall back at me, we bumped again. Somehow he managed to bust his knee the second time and that's why he fell down I guess." Lee just shrugged like it was all beyond her.

When Rachel got through laughing and wiped the tears away Lee explained further.

"My guards from Blackwater told me that next time I trip, to trip with my heel. It can take a whole lot more abuse. I'm going to remember that believe me, it's good advice."

"Girl, you are telling me you had one of the most famous, bad-assed mercenary companies around protecting you and you took the guy down yourself, before they got him?"

"Well he knocked out Diana, who was walking with me and Jesus should have been with us, but he was loading the car. It should have been safe, we were inside our hotel still."

"I don't think you shitting me. You ain't trying hard enough to lay it on thick. Who taught you stuff like that?" Rachel demanded.

"My mom worked me pretty hard and regular since I was about eight. She died last year though. I haven't had anybody to spar with since," Lee said, but didn't get all sad.

"You got some money then. Likely more than I ever see. Nobody I know could afford to hire Blackwater for a day. But they out there, and I'm in here. You wanna partner up?"

"What will that obligate me to do?" Lee said cautiously.

"Any of these girls try to push one us around, the other jumps in with both feet. That don't mean you go looking for trouble. You go up and get all in their face for no reason, you just went out on your own," Rachel said.

"Ends when we get separated?" Lee proposed.

"Works for me," Rachel agreed.

"You got a deal then," Lee said.

Rachel held out a hand and Lee shook it, awkwardly.

"They ain't blind. They know we got some kind of deal now. That's protection right there," she assured Lee.

* * *

An unintelligible murmur from hidden speakers brought everybody to their feet. Lee figured it was supper even before Rachel told her. Rachel had gone away after they shook hands, but hurried back to join her in line. The guard opened a door opposite where Lee had come in and kicked a little lever with a rubber boot down, to hold the door open. The line moved ahead slowly, but Lee could smell food already.

It was like a cafeteria, but the girls didn't push a tray along and make choices. A line of servers filled a tray they got at the end and they went back to eat in the dayroom.

The girl Rachel had pronounced crazy was still in the same seat as when they lined up. One of the guards was talking to her, apparently trying to get her to eat. She was looking away and the woman touched her shoulder. She didn't really hit the guard but she threw her hands up, knocked the woman's hand away, and made a screeching noise. The woman stepped back alarmed and said something touching her collar.

"That's trouble now. See what I told you 'bout her?" Rachel said.

A male guard came in with a pistol-like device, but it wasn't any weapon Lee knew.

"Spray injector," Rachel informed her, "safer than having needles around, ya know?"

The girl was looking away again and didn't notice the new guard until he'd put the injector almost touching her neck and triggered it. She jerked around and tried to stand up. He let her get her knees almost straight and shoved her back. She sat down hard. The second time she tried to get up, he didn't have to touch her. She got about halfway up and looked confused and sat back down abruptly. Pretty soon her head flopped over loose, with her mouth hanging open.

The female guard came back in another door Lee had not seen used, with an old fashioned wheelchair. One guard put an arm around her shoulders and the other took her knees. They lifted her across into the chair and she was gone as slick as could be.

Supper was a sandwich with peanut butter and something sweet. The bread was sliced thick and it was brown and coarse. There was a paper carton labeled soy milk and a few pieces of raw vegetables and an apple. Rachel had the same thing but an orange. Lee made a mess of her carton trying to open it. It ended up all ragged and she had a hard time drinking it. Rachel was highly amused and showed her how to open it correctly.

"You care whether you got the apple or the orange?" Rachel asked.

"No, I'm happy unless you want to trade. I'm just used to cutting an apple in quarters and coring it when I eat it," Lee admitted.

"Yeah, you go tell them you need a knife to cut your apple up and see what they say." Rachel encouraged her, snickering. "Yesterday those three over by the computers came around at lunch and dinner and took my fruit both meals. Having a partner saved us both that much already."

"You gave it to them?"

"Three to one? You better believe it. I know my limits. An orange is not worth being beat up. Two to three now and I have Little Miss Hell on Wheels and their third girl is mighty small – I'd argue now. Hell, they lose one of the big girls, we'll go take their fruit," Rachel said, with a grin.

Lee started to object and then she thought about it. "They owe you," she agreed. The hours to bedtime went fast with Rachel asking about Luna and Derfhome. Somehow Lee didn't get to ask Rachel much about Earth. When the ceiling issued a mumbled call to bed, Lee quickly asked Rachel, "What is your last name? In case I am called away to my hearing early and don't see you again?"

"McClure. But my com and address be in my mom's name, Queena," she said.

* * *

The bunk was fine, firm, but Lee was used to sleeping on a floor mat with Gordon. There was a faint night light behind the air grill in the ceiling, so it was never pitch black. It was a little warm when she went to bed but she woke up in the night and had to use the thin blanket.

The sound of the door unlocking and the call to breakfast was welcome, as she'd been awake a long time. Lee managed to get her the toes of her bad foot under the sandal strap and went to the dayroom. The kitchen door was already open and Rachel standing in line. She gave up her spot to the two behind her to come back to Lee. "You can go back at breakfast for seconds if you eat fast. They shut the door pretty fast when nobody comes for a little while. So don't wait too long."

"You go ahead," Lee insisted, pushing Rachel ahead. "You hung back to tell me."

Breakfast was some grain Lee had never eaten, steamed like rice but darker and more flavorful. Maybe wheat berries, she thought but didn't ask. She ate quickly like Rachel pouring her milk on it and wolfing it down. They made the second serving before the door closed and took their time with the second bowl. The first bowl had diced canned fruit on it, but the second bowl had raisins.

"I bet you're used to fancier stuff," Rachel told her.

"Yeah, but I honestly didn't think about it until you said something. I was starved when we had supper last night. I hadn't had breakfast or lunch and it seemed light. But this is plenty to fill me up. I ate a lot of self-heating rations on our ship with my folks. When we were really busy nobody cooked. If I never look at a pack of wienies and beans or cheese crackers again that will be fine. We called them 'The Five Fingers of Death'. They'd stop you up so tight you'd think you were never going to go again," Lee said.

Rachel snorted milk out her nose and had to wipe it and get herself in control. "I thought only folks on negative tax had to eat crap like that. You OK girl."

They hadn't seen her enter, but the lady in civilian dress from yesterday was standing in front of them. "You have a hearing at ten with Judge Morse," she informed Lee.

"Oh wow. I have no idea what time it is. I haven't had a shower yet. Do we do that after breakfast?" Lee asked.

Rachel spoke up. "Shower is every other day," she informed Lee. "You missed shower and uniform change yesterday morning."

"It's Eight-Forty-Eight," the woman informed her looking at her com. We need to leave anyway," but she looked at Lee. "I'll call ahead and have the police matron at the court have a comb and toothbrush and a washcloth for you. You may clean up briefly in the restroom there. It won't do to have you all wild looking like we didn't take care of you," she allowed.

When she got the cuffs out Lee offered her hands again. "No, if we're going into Judge Morse's court I have to put them on the back," she explained. "He's a stickler and his people will tell him the smallest irregularity." Somehow that didn't sound good to Lee.

Chapter 31

Lee had to wait in a small room, with a few chairs and no table or window, but it had a washroom and the things the lady had promised. At least they took the cuffs off. The lady in the civilian clothing informed her she'd see her in the courtroom and told her to just follow the police matron's instructions. She cleaned up quickly, not sure how long she had.

It was horrible, but she been holding it and used the toilet to recover her earring. She never thought she'd have clean hands again, though she washed them five times. She used the toothbrush on the earring and her nails with soap, then threw it away. She'd never be able to clean it to her satisfaction. She sighed and popped the earring in her cheek. She was sure she just imagined it tasted funny.

Lee kept the comb hoping they wouldn't take it. The washcloth she wrung out as dry as possible and folded it in quarters before pocketing it. Then she reconsidered and unfolded it, to put a smear of the liquid soap from the dispenser on it and folded that to the inside.

When she came back for Lee the woman just said, "Come with me." They walked down a hallway, turned in a door. When they emerged into the courtroom there was a table in front of her with Stanley her attorney, another man in a suit she'd never met, and Gordon. Gordon was sitting on the floor since a Human chair was useless to him. It worked since it put his head at about the same level.

"You should sit by your attorney," the policewoman told her and released the elbow she'd been holding. Stanley looked up and patted the seat beside him. Lee was tickled to sit between Stanley and Gordon. "Who's your friend?" she asked Stanley, while Gordon gave her a little pat with a true hand.

"A local attorney, Mr. Cook. I have to work through him because of rules. I'll explain that later. Right now I just want to emphasize - do not agree to tell what happened in the hotel. No matter how you are threatened, or how they try to trick you. You do not have to testify against yourself in this country. Say you invoke your Fifth Amendment rights. If they threaten or offer a deal ask to come speak to me. The only way I'll agree for you to tell the story, is if they give you a blanket pass on any charges against you. Got that?"

"I invoke my Fifth Amendment rights," Lee repeated. "What are those?"

"It’s part of their Constitution. It says you can't be compelled to testify against yourself."

"But don't they know what happened anyway? " Lee asked. "The hotel must have cameras in the lobby pointed every which way."

Stanley leaned down and spoke to her ear. "It would seem the hotel found their interest was in the public not hearing about a mugging right inside their lobby. That outweighed good citizenship or an abstract desire for justice. When the police requested the security video it seems the system had just performed a scheduled memory purge. From a public relations view, it was most fortunate timing."

"I don't believe it," Lee said, her mouth hanging open.

"Neither does anyone else. But it's your good fortune too," Stanley assured her.

Lee thought about it a minute. "What about the guy who got, you know, hurt?"

"Where did you pick up that awful habit?" Stanley asked.

"What?" Lee asked, genuinely uncomprehending.

"Inserting 'you know' into a perfectly good sentence," Stanley said.

"I'm afraid I picked that up from my jail-mate Rachel," Lee admitted. "However we formed a defense pact which kept larger gangs from stealing our food. So her company had some benefit, even if she is a source of bad grammar."

"I'd like to hear that story in detail, when time permits," Stanley allowed. Gordon was hanging over her other shoulder and seemed interested too.

"As for the young man who so unfortunately stumbled and fell in the lobby, it seems he doesn't remember anything after hitting his head and vehemently denied as ridiculous any possibility a twelve-year-old girl could have contributed to his injuries," Stanley said, happily. "Don't make a liar of him," he warned Lee.

* * *

The bailiff spoke up in a loud voice and told them, "All rise."

Judge Morse was old. He was the oldest looking Human Lee had ever seen. At seventy-eight, he still had a full head of hair, but it was white. He was also proud of the fact he had all his own teeth and vain enough he refused to have his vision corrected, or wear the glasses he insisted were 'just for reading'. That's why he didn't see Gordon seated all the way on the floor behind the defense table. However, when everybody stood, Gordon stood up and up and up... Until he stood three feet above most of the others in the court.

The judge stopped two steps short of taking his seat and stared alarmed with his mouth hanging full open. Then it clamped shut and his face flushed purple as he considered this outrage.

"Get – That – Animal out of my courtroom," Morse bellowed, pointing an index finger at the offending Gordon. "Now!" he shouted again looking at his bewildered bailiff.

"If the court pleases," began the local attorney.

"Court is not in session," the judge said cutting him off. "Court will not be in session until it is cleared of this offense to its dignity!"

"Sir, will you follow me please?" the bailiff asked Gordon.

"I said remove it, bailiff. Not invite it for a stroll." Gordon however, was already headed for the door behind the bailiff, who was moving along quite briskly. Once judge Morse saw Gordon was leaving, he gave the entire courtroom a sweeping glare and retreated to his chambers.

Stanley and the local had their heads together consulting. It lasted a long time, but when Stanley finally leaned back Lee asked him, "This isn't good is it?"

"It's either very, very bad, or very, very good. We have no idea yet. It doesn't change anything about my instructions to you though," he insisted.

When the judge finally returned, Lee heard counselor Cook breathe out a low moan of despair. He quickly scribbled a note and slid it down to Stanley. Stanley read it at a glance and quickly passed it to where Lee could read it.

"Judge Morse is noted for retreating to his chambers on recess during long or aggravating cases and fortifying himself with a shot or three of good Scotch. He appears to have expanded this custom to the opening. Best to avoid his close attention any way possible. Use notes and avoid putting our heads together, or speaking no matter how softly."

The bailiff announced the court was in session, the honorable Gerald V. Morse presiding. He didn't make them all rise again and looked worried. One lady at the prosecutor's table did stand. Perhaps the bailiff wasn't sure if he should start from scratch, but the judge sat down without a glance his way and started studying the papers before him. Occasionally they would see a page or two over the edge of the bench as he flipped through them and set one aside here and there.

The bailiff looked relieved as some time passed and it appeared no reprimand was going to be directed toward him. Lee looked at the people at the prosecution's table however and the lady standing didn't look worried like the bailiff, she looked terrified and uncomfortable.

"Why did she stand and what's going on?" Lee wrote on a note and left positioned it beside a tablet and water glass in front of her, but towards Stanley. Stanley picked some other documents up ignoring her note. After leafing through the other papers he replaced them and picked up her note. He scribbled something on it and left it at his elbow, within her reach.

Lee took a clue and drank some water and pulled the notepaper and pencil close to her and generally wasted time and hid the note-passing among other actions.

"She stood expecting to be recognized," Stanley had written. "He's reminding her who is in charge and that just because she is ready to speak doesn't mean he is ready to listen. She has no idea what he is going to do. He may embarrass the state in ways her bosses won't like and they may blame her if she can't fend off bad publicity. He's a loose cannon sober. Who knows what he'll do with a snoot-full?" he worried.

"Can anybody challenge him for drinking?" Lee asked the same roundabout way.

"If they want to spend time in jail for contempt and never try a case in this court again," Stanley wrote. "Don't you bring it up!" He wrote and circled the entire sentence.

"Assistant Prosecutor Fenucci, do you wish to petition the court in the matter of," he stopped and squinted at his papers, "Lee Anderson?

"Your Honor," the standing woman spoke a little too loudly, "My department has interviewed the persons involved in the incident at the hotel. There is very little evidence that a criminal act occurred. After some consultation, I was instructed not to pursue charges against any of the parties involved."

"Did you ask the hotel for their surveillance records?"

"We did, but the memory had just undergone a purge and the desk clerk in the lobby was looking elsewhere and didn't witness anything."

Judge Morse snorted through his large red nose. "How convenient," he said sarcastically. The scotch was slowing his thinking, so he pretended to look at the paperwork again while he pondered the matter. He had his glasses laying on the bench, so all the regulars knew he wasn't really reading them. The prosecutor just stood, very still, and hoped he'd drop the matter.

"What did the girl say?" Morse finally asked her, dashing that hope.

"She indicated that she was not looking towards her bodyguard and though she heard an odd noise it would be pure conjecture on her part to say the local assaulted her. I know it is not admissible, but biometric monitoring indicated she was truthful with her statements."

"Yes, but after," the judge said irritated. "How did the local man, Mr. Julio, come to injury?"

"He claimed not to remember," Your Honor. "And his biometric data showed that truthful as well. Also, the attending doctors assured us a concussion such as he suffered often impairs short term memory."

"I think you are evading me Ms. Fenucci. I'm still inquiring what the girl said about the incident. I have not switched my line of inquiry to Mr. Julio. With regard to Mr. Julio, or any other part of this incident, what was her testimony?"

"Your Honor, she invoked her fifth amendment rights and informed us her family had counsel retained and asked any questions be directed to him. He is now present," she said inclining her head toward the defense table." she decisively took the opportunity to sit without leave, hoping the court would direct his attention away from her. It worked.

"Miss Anderson," the judge looked at her and painted on a kindly smile. He was looking a little spacey though. "You are not under arrest. The purpose of the Juvenile Court is not primarily to prosecute criminal conduct, but to see to the welfare of minor citizens. We are more interested in seeing to your welfare than exacting strict justice. Would you describe for me what you saw happen in the lobby of your hotel?"

"May I consult my attorney?" Lee asked.

"Yes, dear. Go ahead." He allowed, but the kindly smile went away.

Lee put her head down with Stanley and told him, "I don't trust this guy. They keep saying I'm not arrested but I'm locked up just as tight as if I were. What's the difference? Even if he says I won't be charged with any crime, I'm afraid he may decide it is in the interests of my welfare to keep me locked up. They'll just call it something else. I don't want to tell him anything!"

"Normally I'd say if they don't charge you they would release you. Jesus and Diana were released this morning. But they do have an awfully big handle on you as a juvenile. That's why you aren't getting on a shuttle with them right now. If your instinct is to stay with your fifth amendment rights I won't urge you to throw them aside. He has not given you a release of criminal liability. Rather than ask for one, how about if I stand and speak for you?" Stanley offered.

"That sounds good to me," Lee agreed. "I'm afraid I'm going to screw up and say something stupid. Most of this doesn't make any sense to me."

"Very well. I'll tell him that is your decision," Stanley agreed.

Stanley stood. "Your Honor, without any urging Miss Anderson assured me she feels more comfortable retaining her fifth amendment rights. I have to concur that there is no advantage to her not to do so. She is not familiar with Earth culture or law and finds this experience confusing and wisely is cautious about ceding anything. Indeed she is a foreign national just passing through. Nobody seems to have suffered any permanent harm from this minor altercation. If there are no charges to be laid against her, she just wishes to finish what is just a temporary tourist visit. She and her parent will shortly withdraw from this jurisdiction, so they should not be any continuing problem or burden for the State of California. Would you entertain a motion to dismiss this matter and release her from temporary custody?"

"Perhaps, counselor," Judge Morse looked about the courtroom confused. "Is Miss Anderson's parent present to assume custody of her?

"Yes sir, her step-father is waiting in the corridor and I'd be happy to escort her to him," Stanley said.

"No offense to your skills counselor, but I'm surprised he didn't wish to observe the proceedings personally," Morse said quizzically.

Stanley briefly considered trying to lie, but remembered the prosecutor got caught out trying to switch subjects on Morse. It might make matters worse than honesty.

"Regrettably Your Honor, you found his presence offensive and had him removed," Stanley said as mildly as possible.

Morse looked at him blankly for an instant and then exploded.

"Step-father? he asked, incredulous. "That is not a father, that is a furry freak. This court cannot recognize a familial relationship with an,” he checked himself visibly from saying a curse, swallowed, and said softer, “animal.”

"These proceedings have obviously been a farce from the very start! You knew this girl would be going back to this alien freak if released." His head swiveled like a turret and he regarded the prosecutor with narrowed eyes. "You, Ms. Fenucci, did you conspire to keep this material fact from the court?"

"Your Honor, the fact is not material. Mr. Gordon is neither an alien freak nor an animal. He is a legal person under the Treaty of Man and my office respects the law on the matter and recognizes we are obligated to recognize the rulings of Derf law, such as her adoption, as binding, just as they respect and reciprocate in honoring Human law."

She wanted her office and herself personally distanced from this mess. She'd jollied this old fossil along other times, but this one was going to blow up in his face and she wasn't going to take her career and office down with him.

"And you Mr. Cook, were you aware of this unnatural relationship between your clients? Did you intend never to reveal this to the court?" Morse asked, not placated at all.

"Your Honor, I have no opinion about my client’s family relationships as to their nature. I can only say it is a legal one I am bound to honor by superior law. I am a loyal citizen of the North American Union and would consider deliberately opposing a treaty the Congress in their wisdom has ratified an act of sedition. That outweighs any personal opinions." Cook hoped the old fool would follow the logic that he was toying with sedition himself, but there was no change in his demeanor to indicate he was thinking at all.

"You, Mr. McPherson may only have the privilege of practice here with the supervision of Mr. Cook. I do not appreciate the unwholesome influence you have brought into our jurisdiction. You henceforth will be prohibited from practice in my court even with local supervision. Do you understand?"

"Yes," McPherson agreed.

"Yes, what?" Judge Morse asked him.

"Yes is sufficient."

"It is customary to address the court as Your Honor, or you may find yourself in contempt, Mr. McPherson."

"I fear I already find myself in contempt of a judge who sits the bench drunk, breaks the solemn treaties of his country, and who insults my client who I have found a fine gentleman, not an alien freak and animal. If you unwisely wish to advertise that contempt to the world which I was trying to not voice aloud, then I believe you will find to your shock your bigotry is roundly condemned by your fellow citizens. Go back to your chambers and stick your nose in your bottle again. We expect no better."

"You will sit in a jail cell until I have a full apology, though I don't know how you will ever convince me of its sincerity. Bailiff, remove Mr. McPherson to the county jail." Morse said.

The bailiff stood looking at him for some quiet seconds before responding.

"Your Honor, I am some four years past the age at which I can retire. I apologize for not giving you more notice, but I find myself unable to continue as an officer of the court. I must leave now." He turned and walked out the door ignoring the threats and yelling behind him.

Morse turned to the court recorder and pointed at the camera eye recording the session. "Strike those last remarks by the bailiff and the lawyer from the record."

"Your Honor, that is impossible, the machine autosaves every thirty seconds. It is archived to multiple secure locations already. You got a notice from the Vital Records Dispersal Program last year. It was implemented to keep wreckers from destroying important documents after the EMP attack on the Bureau of Prisons." He glared at her but had no reply.

"You," the judge said pointing at the woman in civilian dress who brought Lee to the court. "What is your name?"

"Louisa Priestly, Your Honor."

"Are you a sworn officer?"

"Yes, I am Your Honor."

"Place this man under arrest then and remove him to the county jail."

Stanley was scribbling away on a sheet of paper, obviously hurrying.

"I would be happy to do so Your Honor, but I have Lee Anderson in my custody also and have signed for her and am responsible for her. Do you wish to order her given over to another responsible party, or do you wish me to leave with both of them and return them as I am able to each facility?"

"Do you have cuffs Officer Priestly? Morse inquired.

"Yes sir," she said displaying them in hand.

"Then cuff Mr. McPherson and have building security in the corridor send an officer to deal with him. You can return Miss Anderson to temporary custody," Morse ordered.

"Your Honor!" Cook said, standing quickly. "Is this hearing recessed until another time or are you making some determination what shall be done for my client?"

"I have determined Miss Anderson is an endangered minor. She has been held in a situation that is not normal or wholesome for a Human child. I am going to order a search of any proper blood relatives who may assume her guardianship. If none can be found she will be a ward of the court and given over to foster care."

Lee stuck the sheet of paper Stanley slid across the table to her in her pocket. She stood too. Stanley was being cuffed so all he could do was say, "Sit down!"

"May I speak?" Lee asked ignoring Stanley.

"I seem to recall requesting that very thing," Morse said, amused. He seemed to think he was going to get what he wanted from Lee. If she thought that speaking now would take her lawyer off the hook it would be lovely. He put his chin in his hand and looked at her expectantly.

"I strongly counsel you to remain silent," Cook also said frowning. Lee waved him away.

"Two points," Lee said loudly holding up two fingers. "I give notice I appeal to the Derf court of the Red Tree Clan to have the Derf known as William act as my Champion," she had a sudden inspiration and added, "and for The Treaty of Man."

"I don't recognize any mock court of soulless animals off on some distant world," Morse sneered. "Their law doesn't extend here." The prosecutor just buried her face in her hands, dismayed at the damage this old fool was doing, and wondered how much blame would stick to her. Everybody had pussy-footed around him for years while he made weird remarks and questionable decisions. But he'd never gone off the deep end like seeing the Derf had caused today.

"Also, I injured my foot," Lee pointed out. "I object I've been refused treatment and may not even have a nurse look at it until Wednesday," she complained.

"You walked in on it didn't you girl? Tell your jailer. I hear this belly-aching from prisoners all the time and am sick of it. This Court is concluded," Morse announced himself, having no bailiff and stalked off to his chambers in a huff.

Lee looked at the note, "We will get you free, Lee. Don't give up hope if you hear nothing for some time."

"Of course Stanley," she muttered to herself, standing in shock at the outcome. The Matron took her by the elbow and steered her to the door. She hoped she'd at least see Gordon outside, but the corridor was empty except for another cart and a uniformed officer. They cuffed her again with the ones the uniformed policewoman had and they drove off. She didn't ask where they were going. It seemed pointless.

Chapter 32

Gordon came off the ramp from the Earth shuttle with Richard and Jesus. When they reached the edge of the Commission field their contract with him was finished. They offered their hands and left silently. He was surprised to see Gwen the vet standing there. "Ms. Hanson, Gordon nodded to her, "Were you waiting for me?"

"Sure am. I thought over your offer to come to Derfhome. It sounds a lot more interesting than the life I'm leading here. I've been looking into your culture and customs. I can see how I'd have a practice there, if I can get along with the Mothers. I heard about your problems Earthside. Is the offer still open, or are circumstances changed?"

"Circumstances are changed, but the offer still stands," Gordon said. "However I intend to lift ship very quickly. If you are taking passage with me you'll need to be aboard in a matter of hours. If you have matters to wrap up and possessions to deal with, you'd best take commercial passage at a later date."

"My apartment is paid month to month; they can keep the furniture and small appliances, or give 'em to charity. I've never been a clothes horse. I'll throw some things in a duffel bag and bring my professional tools and be to the field in say, two hours. My personal funds I'll just stop and bring it cash. Sound sweet?" Gwen asked.

"That sounds excellent," Gordon agreed. "Field security will have your name as a crew member. We're lifting near empty, so anything personal you can lug to the field to bring is no problem. Anything of Earth origin you bring can probably be sold at a profit. You can even purchase professional instruments and devices, if they can be sent straight to the ship, otherwise, they will have to follow by commercial carrier."

"Do your holds load in vacuum or pressure?" Gwen asked.

"We have a short pressure tube to a private loading dock, with security. You have carte blanche for shipping volume and mass and I'll call and have you authorized to buy for the ship. I should warn you we will likely go to Fargone first, but your pay will start immediately and we can use the transit time effectively for training. Do you need an advance to cover any expenses?" Gordon offered.

"Nah, thanks but I'm set, I have some savings, but I appreciate the offer," Gwen said.

"You will have access to the ship if you beat me there. An Association rep will be at the gate with your spacer's papers. Consider your initiation fee my gift." Gordon made to move on like they were done.

"Uh, I'm happy to work my passage, but I didn't know I'd be anything but a passenger," Gwen told him. "What position will I hold as crew?" she asked.

"Why, Ship's Surgeon of course dear," Gordon smiled. "You might want to download anything you can find on treating Derf. Again, feel free to charge books or papers to the ship. Is that satisfactory?"

"Sure is," Gwen agreed, looking very thoughtful, she was obviously caught off guard, but game.

* * *

As soon as the auto-cab started rolling Gwen pulled her pad and made a voice call to the medical supply with who she was dealing. "Andy, this is Gwen. You know the list I had you quote last week? Any of it you can get to the port and loaded aboard the vessel High Hopes you've just sold. Charge it to the ship. Yes, I can hold but not long. I have other calls to make."

After about thirty seconds he came back on. "It's being packed and will be out the door and in transit in twenty minutes. Do you have any idea what sort of a credit line and rating you have authorized against your ship?" he asked in breathy wonder.

"No idea at all. Good enough I take it?" Gwen asked.

"The bank said to ship on a verified receipt up to twenty-million dollars USNA, so you'll have to sign for it on the ramp. Looks like you got in a very nice outfit, Gwen."

"I'll be there in an hour or so Andy. Have your guy wait if he beats me there."

"Oh, don't worry. He'll stand there until they pull the ramp from under him, Gwen. Thanks for the order."

"I expect I'll buy more stuff. It will just be a few months until I see what I need and it will have to be shipped to Derfhome. Bye Andy," Gwen said and disconnected. She stabbed a search in the pad: Imports-Fargone and Derfhome. Hmm...Interesting.

* * *

Gordon's driver presented papers to the guard at his public dock access. The screen above the gate read: Pressure Dock 12 – High Hopes (in count to lift) – loading – 8m x 4m x 10m max. Below it showed in green letters – Lane One (occupied). A small brown step van was sitting in front of the occupied lane waiting to back in. In gold script on the side, it said – Purtin's Wholesale Confectioners. As he watched the pressure gate withdrew and an even bigger truck exited with lettering that said – Loonie Distributors * Fine Imported Spirits * Wine. His eyebrows went up – a gesture naturally shared with Humans. It appeared Ms. Hanson was very busy.

He had the driver pull to the side, well short and out of the way, and told him to stick his arm out the window holding up two fingers and wave the truck following them on. The red and black armored truck went past, swung sharply in the tunnel, and backed up precisely to the second lane. It only waited seconds, before the safety gate lifted and it could back in. On its side in old fashioned lettering it proclaimed - BRINKS.

Gwen was standing on the ramp signing a paper invoice on a clipboard. She hadn't even found time to take the duffle bag at her feet to her quarters.

"Hi Boss, I got my favorite clothing and like ninety percent of my equipment loaded. Since you offered to haul anything I wanted I brought some stuff I hope to sell, that OK?"

"Certainly, I did the same for our relatives on Derfhome," Gordon told her. "I hope you have mass totals for what you've stowed?"

"Oh, sure, I've been keeping it as central as possible and splitting it side to side evenly. Mass total is on the invoices. Holy cow! Is that what I think it is?" Gwen asked as a big skid of ingots went past them on a forklift.

"If you think it is a pile of one-hundred-kilogram silver ingots it is," Gordon said grinning. "We are going to Fargone and their system is particularly poor in silver minerals. There is an industrial demand and silver is their coinage. It's worth more than gold in that system. I'll have letters of credit, but nothing beats actual cash money sometimes."

Gwen watched three more skids of the metal go past before Gordon signed and the guards withdrew. "And what sort of trade goods did you bring Ms. Hanson?"

"Luxury goods, I've got three cases of single malt Scotch, five cases of top-shelf bourbon and about five hundred kilos of chocolate bars."

Gordon got a thoughtful look. "I may want to be one of your customers if I need some bribes. I should have thought of that actually."

"Whom would you need to bribe?" Gwen asked surprised.

"I'm looking to buy some arms," Gordon revealed. "I'm not sure how difficult it will be. That's why I have all the cash, in case it is easier than bank transfer. But a more discreet gift like a bottle may buy me an introduction or just information with less fuss."

"No problem," Gwen said. "My booze is your booze. I thought Fargone was so Libertarian they would sell guns to the Devil himself. That's the way the press paints them anyway."

"Indeed they may. I expect most of my shopping list will be easy to fill, but one wonders if they don't hold their nukes a bit tighter than infantry gear?" Gordon said.

Gwen looked closely to see if he was teasing her. There was no humor there at all.

* * *

The police detective who had booked him came back to the holding cell. Something was wrong. He looked concerned. No, he looked scared, McPherson decided. A tall man in a much better suit followed him silently, carrying a folder. He just looked irritated.

"McPherson!" He called aloud like he didn't know him from the others. He'd put him in the lock-up maybe six hours ago and Stanley was the only one in a suit. He went to the slot to be cuffed before the door opened. The detective pulled cuffs from his belt and the angry man told him, "We don't need those. I think the two of us can handle one elderly lawyer."

They walked down the hall with him between them, the detective leading and turned into an office. It was small and dreary with cheap furniture crammed in and long overdue for paint or even a good cleaning. The detective stood aside to let them enter the room.

When he moved to come in after them the big man blocked the way and closed the door part way. "I'll speak privately to the prisoner. We may be some time. I suggest you find something else to occupy the rest of your shift. I can get somebody else to walk him back with me." He closed the door on the detective before the man could raise any objection.

"Have a seat," he suggested to McPherson. He took the other seat behind the desk. He hadn't locked the door or cuffed him to the chair. He tipped the folder up and shook everything out on the desk. It was McPherson's papers from the courtroom, his wallet and pocket computer with com and his passport and wedding ring.

"Look in the wallet and make sure they didn't steal anything," he said, disgusted.

McPherson raised an eyebrow but did as he was told. The cash and credit cards were all there, as were several cards to professional organizations. He folded back the leather to open a hidden compartment and was surprised to see there were still three gold sovereigns in a plastic holder.

"It's all there," Stanley said.

"Good. Now, counselor, you are a tremendous big pain in the ass for the Federal Government. We have your government raising holy hell over your arrest. I don't know what you were thinking to blurt the truth out loud, in a courtroom, but no matter how satisfying, it created a problem for both of us. It might take months to gain your release from local authorities."

The fellow offered no name or agency identification, McPherson noted.

"I'm just relieved you came to no harm from the scum with who you were locked up today. We have no control over where and in what conditions you'd be held. State’s rights have been a very sensitive subject of late. No matter how obvious a flaming jackass judge Morse is, the state of California can't just roll over and ignore his contempt citation. Do you understand?"

"Indeed I do," McPherson said nodding. "It was equally impossible for me not to create a fuss sufficient to pull you Feds into the case. It is very difficult to get any outside agency to look at a Family Court matter."

"Well, you succeeded. Now we basically want you to be gone. I'm tired. I believe I will lean back and rest my eyes. I'd say you have about three hours until the shift change at this cop shop, to get to the airport and outside the jurisdiction of California. Do you need anything that you don't have here?" he asked, pointing at the pile on the desk.

"My client, Ms. Anderson."

The man looked startled at the audacity of the request. "I'm sorry. That's not going to happen. This is as good a deal as I can offer you."

"Isn’t offending the Derf government with Miss Anderson, is as sensitive a matter as arousing His Majesties ire?" McPherson asked.

"Nobody is sweating the Derf. What are they going to do? They don't even have one central authority on their homeworld."

Stanley thought he was entirely too dismissive of the Derf. He was tempted to point out Earth had no one central authority either, but he saw no profit in arguing the point under the current conditions.

"I take your point. I am however afraid to just fill my pockets and walk out of here on sheer bravado, Stanley said. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but if someone shoots me in the back I cease to be a problem too. Will you walk me out of here and see me in a cab?"

The man thought about it a bit. He didn't seem offended by the suggestion he might be setting McPherson up. "If I'm going to do that, I might as well take you to the port myself. It makes more sense than allowing your moves in public transportation to be recorded, or allowing somebody to get lucky and recapture you."

He stood and pulled out a set of cuffs. Stanley thought he meant to put them on him, but he leaned over and placed one end around the arm of the chair. The other end was left dangling, as if Stanley had escaped. "Follow me," he invited.

McPherson was slightly amazed when the plane lifted, they were not called back to the gate, or ordered to apprehend him. About twenty minutes later they were over international waters and the last persistent tension could be abandoned and he relaxed. He'd taken the first plane headed west and by chance that meant he was about to visit Singapore. He sat back and started composing how he'd present his after-action report to his partners.

Chapter 33

Lee wasn't sure what day it was. She might have lost count and when she'd asked a guard the date the woman wrinkled up her nose and asked what it mattered to her? She'd never seen the facility again where she met Rachel McClure.

The jail she was in now was actually smaller, and she didn't have to worry about com privileges because there was no com, or even entertainment video. They had bused her here in a windowless van and the building had no windows. She had no idea if it was desert or forest outside, night or day. The guards worked rotating shifts and she didn't want to assume the prisoner's day was the local day outside.

The other girls were very untrusting. The few that weren't were very vocal and rebellious.

Lee wanted nothing to do with activists. She knew none of the seemingly normal ones by name and got the impression they were all political prisoners of some sort, even the quiet ones. When she'd asked one girl how such young people could be a political problem, the girl had gotten angry and snapped at her: "Don't be stupid. They have relatives. Most of these kids are more hostage than prisoner." She'd apparently regretted saying so much and clammed back up on Lee.

Was she considered a political prisoner? If she wasn't, why would she be here with them?

* * *

Fargone had not been anything Gwen expected. Gordon had been met warmly and given every courtesy. As a person with Earth citizenship, she had been questioned well past what she considered reasonable. It was only after the questioning had revealed she was emigrating to Derfhome and had been living in the Lunar Republic already that they questioned Gordon on com and confirmed her story. Then the fellow interrogating her had asked why she hadn't told them that in the first place. When she replied irritatedly that she had no idea he would care about her residence and ultimate destination, the officer assisting with only one stripe on his sleeve looked at his superior and said: "Politically naïve and unaware."

The lead questioner had nodded, thought about it, and asked her, "Who did you vote for in the last election?"

"Last election down home in North America?" Gwen asked.

"Yes, Vargus or Chen?"

"I didn't vote for anybody," Gwen told him, exasperated. "I'd have had to ask for an absentee form and I doubt it would ever be counted. If you live off-planet they don't want your damn vote. If it made any difference voting would be friggin' illegal. If it was counted they're both damn crooks anyway. What do you care which one? Are you really stupid enough to think there is a lick of difference between them? Either one is going to screw the outworlds like you guys at every turn, just like they screw us citizens every chance they get."

The one striper appeared to be holding laughter in. The other shook his head.

"I don't know John. She seems to have a pretty good sense of political reality to me. Welcome to Fargone, Miss Hanson," he said through his grin. "I marked your passport with no travel or commercial restrictions, for a hundred-day stay."

"Thanks, I think the boss man's business will take us outta here in a week max, but that's nice of you," Gwen said tucking the passport away. She checked her com and found that Gordon had left her a message.

"I took two bottles of Woodford Reserve and have an appointment. Will meet you at the hotel for supper unless something further develops. We load and lift in the morning."

* * *

When they came to transport her again, nobody would say where they were going. Lee's worst fears were realized when they returned to the courtroom she'd seen before. There was a different bailiff and a thin nervous man sitting with different lawyers over at the other table, Maybe it will be a different judge, she hoped briefly, but when the door opened it was Morse.

"Ms. Johnson, I believe from your report you have found a blood relation for Miss Anderson, who is willing to foster her?"

"Your Honor, This is Mr. Hanson of Ishpeming Michigan. He is a cousin to Miss Anderson on her father's side. They are of modest means, but willing to welcome her into their family."

"I'd like to hear it from him directly please, Ms. Johnson."

The man stood nervously and clasped his hands together in front of him fidgeting. "We don't know the California Andersons real well, sir. We sort of lost touch with them when her granddaddy moved out there. But I have always been taught you take care of kin. We are dependent on the negative tax, sir. The Hansons were Great Lakes sailors and loggers and that sort of work kind of dried up. The logging went to Canada and the ships don't need but two or three hands now," he explained looking down.

"If you could send us a letter for the housing authority it would be a mighty big help, Your Honor. They won't give you bigger quarters for more than your second kid if you just decide you are going to have a mess of them. They tend to be slow on moving you to a bigger unit for fostering and such, unless you have letters from somebody in authority like yourself."

He looked like it pained him to ask, but he continued, "I'm not sure how I'm going to get her back home either, sir. I got me a ticket from the Family Emergency Fund, that is usually for funerals and when somebody gets hurt outside the county. First time I been on a plane and it was quite an experience. But they put off a ticket for her on you folks. Said you are saving having to carry her on your rolls, so it was a good investment for you to send her. Sorry."

"Not at all," Judge Morse assured him, "they have a point there possibly. Ms. Johnson, can you get a flight voucher for Miss Anderson, to return with her cousin? That does seem a small commitment to make on our local system, for being relieved of a long term obligation."

"Yes, your honor. I'll have a travel voucher and a letter for Mr. Hanson obligating his county to reciprocate with a dietary stipend, medical services, ID, and all the normal allowances given to dependants on negative tax. I'll send copies ahead immediately, so they are aware before he even returns."

"There you go," Judge Morse beamed, all happy. "If no other parties have cause or objection, I shall release Miss Anderson to the wholesome custody and care of her cousin and the aid of Ms. Johnson to see them safely on their way and consider this case closed." He looked briefly around the almost empty courtroom and rapped the gravel firmly on the sound block once, before he headed for his chambers for a well-deserved nip.

Lee was quietly furious at the superior, offhand way he disposed of her and her life. He had to get one last dig in aimed at Gordon too. She restrained herself from objecting, she didn't think he'd pay any attention to her and she wasn't sure but what being moved out of his control might not be an improvement.

They had removed her cuffs again when she was brought in the courtroom. The guard she was with walked her over to her cousin and Ms. Johnson and got a receipt signed. At least she could walk better now. The swelling was way down. Before she could get away Lee spoke up. "Ms. Johnson I was told this bracelet is my property receipt. I'd like to reclaim my things if we can before I go very far."

"Is it even worth the stop, dear? If it was just your clothing we can provide for you."

"Ma'am, I had a rather nice necklace, my pocket com with all my school notes, and all my favorite books and videos. They have my spacer's papers too, which are my only identity documents. I don't have a birth certificate or passport. It might get sticky down the road if I can't prove who I am," Lee said.

Ms. Johnson paused digesting all that and looked at her com. "We have time before we can put you on a flight anyway. Let's see what we can pry out of them. If you have no objection, Mr. Hanson?"

"Only right we get the girl's things," he agreed, with a nod.

The property room window looked like they expected a frontal assault from a heavy weapons squad. There were bars and an airlock style pass-through to the side. The officer who answered the buzzer limped to the window and had a face full of scars. It was obvious he had been given desk duty after some horrific injury. He listened to their request impassively and told Lee to present her bracelet to the window.

Lee put her wrist against the bars and he snipped her bracelet off with cutters, that took a double-handed squeeze to bite through. The clerk shuffled away with it.

The envelope he brought back had security tape on one end and he made a show of cutting it off with a sturdy pair of shears. It fit through the bars without using the lock.

"It says on the envelope all your clothing was bloody, so it was all disposed of as a biohazard. Sign on the envelope that you have received the property back in good condition and return it to me," he instructed.

Lee pulled out her com and the slim wallet. She felt in the bottom corners for her necklace with a sinking feeling. She turned and showed Ms. Johnson her fingers poking through the slit in the side of the envelope.

"There was a necklace the girl turned in," she said in an even voice.

"I don't know anything about that," the man informed her. "Put the other stuff back in and I'll hold it while we do an internal investigation," he said indifferently. "You'll have to fill out forms to request the investigation. A receipt or photo of the item would be helpful."

"Let them steal the necklace," Lee offered, clutching the wallet to her chest. "The papers are what is really important to me." Her cousin just gave a snort of disgust and looked at the cop like he was something to be scraped off one's shoe.

"No, I think if they want an investigation we should give them one. Just not internal. Fortunately, I have the Prosecutor's office on my call list," Ms. Johnson said punching keys on her com with angry vigor.

"Before you bother them, why don't I go look around and see if that necklace might have fallen out of the defective envelope?" the cop offered. "It may be in the bin under all the other small envelopes. It wouldn't hurt to look," he suggested.

"Yes, why don't you do that?" Johnson said, terminating her call. "It would save both of us a lot of aggravation."

"Defective envelope my ass," Ms. Johnson muttered darkly after he left to check.

The search took perhaps two minutes damaging his credibility further. "Lookie here," the man said, with really well done theatrical surprise. He was holding the two-tone necklace between thumb and index finger. "It was behind the bin, jammed back against the wall," he informed them straight-faced.

"Thank you," Lee said, attempting the same false conviction he displayed. She took the necklace in her left hand and picked up the pen on the window ledge to sign the envelope.

"No little gal," he told her. "You are a minor. Your guardian here has to be the one to sign," he explained nodding at Ms. Johnson.

"Exactly," Ms. Johnson agreed, signing. "I'm responsible and I haven't stooped to looting my client's jewelry yet," she snarled at the cop. She shoved the envelope back through the bars at him. He turned away seemingly unaffected by the whole exchange. Lee decided now was not the time to argue about her majority. It was working to her benefit at the moment.

"I wouldn't wear that in public," Ms. Johnson told her, turning away. "Some street punk will think it is real and mug you for it." It took Lee a couple of seconds to process what she meant by that. She quickly wiped the surprised look off her face and shut her mouth. The woman apparently had never heard the whole story of Lee, or her mugging.

Ms. Johnson was not looking, gone into marching mode, anxious to get to the airport, and be rid of them. She didn't even pick up on the slight delay before Lee said, "Yes, Ma'am."

Cousin Hanson however, read her face and looked alarmed. He too, quickly got control of his expression. He took a deep breath and looked back at her with perfectly composed neutrality.

Well, that's interesting, Lee thought. She suddenly suspected Cousin of being much brighter than he sounded talking to the judge. She was embarrassed however how naïve she had been, to make herself a target with flashy jewelry.

Chapter 34

Gwen rode a taxi back to the ship with Gordon. On the ramp, they watched as an unmarked massive transport truck slowly backed up with the last 'special' delivery. There were four light armor escort vehicles spread out away from the ship and transport and a number of soldiers on foot visible in a distant perimeter around the port service buildings.

When the liftgate descended the load was anticlimactic. There were three aluminum cases like narrow suitcases anodized a bilious green, but without any markings, strapped on a pallet. They were only a bit over a meter long. There were also four wooden shipping cases with grab handles. Three of those were stenciled: Mortar, 120mm variant 6C, complete and one was stenciled: Practice Round – Purple Smoke - 24 Rds. – Mortar, 120mm 4C - 5C - 6C.

The officer in charge watched as four troopers carried each case up the ramp and then two soldiers at a time cut the smaller cases off the pallet and carried them into the hold. Nothing was heavy enough to warrant a forklift. He gave Gordon a nod and walked to the near armored vehicle.

"So, are those your nukes?" Gwen asked.

"Yeah, in the ugly aluminum cases," Gordon confirmed.

"Why do you need three mortars for three nukes?" Gwen wondered.

"It's sort of iffy if you can recover the tube after you use it for a nuke," Gordon explained.

Gwen just lifted an eyebrow at him.

"They're dial-a-nukes," he explained reluctantly. "You can set them for anywhere from a half kiloton, to almost fifty kilotons and a radiation-enhanced setting–a neutron bomb. You wouldn't think they could be built it so small, but these Fargone guys are really inventive. Unfortunately, in quite a range of possible settings, the tube will not survive the detonation, or the crew will not be able to remove it. So we need a fresh tube for each weapon to be sure we can use it."

"That sounds pretty rough on the crew servicing it," Gwen said.

"If you can set it for maximum range and delay and if the mortar crew is dug in really well with protective gear and takes cover it is quite survivable," Gordon assured her. "Tactically whether you can do that is another question. Your enemy often has a way of not staying where you want him to be a convenient target. Ya know? War is rough and no way to fix that."

Gwen just nodded agreement and turned up the ramp. The transport truck was leaving, but the armor seemed to be staying until they actually lifted. I can't blame them, Gwen decided. They want to make sure these little nasties are really taken off-world.

* * *

Ms. Johnson handed two air passes and a folder to Cousin Hanson. "These are copies of the letter from Judge Morse and transfers and permissions from my department. You’re a good man to take responsibility, sir."

"Wasn't just me," Cousin said, in his best 'Ah-shucks' manner. "My wife said to go get her and my boy and girl neither one had a bad word to say about it. Thank you for your help." He nodded awkwardly and hurried up the access to the plane. Lee had to step smartly to keep up.

The seats were halfway back and Cousin turned to her. "Would you like the window seat or the middle?" he asked Lee.

"The window if you please. If I sit in the middle I don't know who will sit beside me and I'd rather not have to deal with that right now."

"You'll still be sitting by a stranger," he said ruefully, motioning Lee in. "I asked to speak with you before we were committed to each other, but they made it clear you had no input. I can only assume you had no objection to being fostered out, as you were not protesting?" He turned it into a question.

"If I had pushed it, they very well might have sent you to some random foster outfit," he said with a grimace. "We wouldn't wish that on anyone. It may be boring in Michigan and we don't have a lot of luxuries, but we are decent people. You won't be forced into prostitution or made to work in some sweatshop and we won't steal your stuff," Hanson promised.

"I figured almost anything was an improvement over having Judge Morse control me. Even though I had no idea foster care could be that bad. You saw him. What was your impression of the judge?" Lee asked.

"Self-absorbed and hidebound, possibly slipping into dementia." He squinted. "There’s something else odd about him too, but couldn't put my finger on it from what little I saw of the man."

"You don't look or sound like the same person," Lee said, amazed. "What happened to Cousin Hanson?"

"Cousin Hanson is there when I need him," he allowed, slumping and looking down.

"He knows his place and knows how to wheedle and shuffle, and whine, until the boss man gives him what he needs and feels good about taking care of the poor fool," he explained. He wrung his hands, nervous and uncomfortable, and looked away avoiding eye contact.

Lee looked at him amazed, her mouth open.

"It's just acting little gal. You become what you need to be. Surely you have done some form of play-acting?"

"Uh, no actually, I haven't," Lee said. "They didn't tell you much about me either, did they?"

"Just that your parents were killed and they were looking for a blood relation. We should have gone to California when the Anderson side of the family moved out there," Hanson said with conviction. "They were smart to get out of Ishpeming before the Greater Depression and the big collapse. Now it is almost impossible to move from one state to another if you live on the negative tax. Ishpeming may be safer than LA, but there is almost no route out and up for somebody on the dole."

"You know what happened to grandpa Anderson's family in California?" Lee asked.

"We have a few old pictures, so we know he had three boys. We have a print-out of his obituary, but all it really said was he was survived by the boys and preceded in death by his wife Julie. The Family Court lady told me that none of his boys were current California residents and none showed on the Federal Registry. You'd think if they died there would be a national record. So I'd guess they probably left North America," Hanson concluded.

"They did all leave California, uh, what do you want me to call you? I can't keep calling you Cousin Hanson."

"Well you could, or if I'm in country bumpkin dole critter mode cous' would do," he invited. "But you are old enough to call me Earl if you want."

"Call me Lee, please. Grandpa Anderson was sure California was not far enough from Michigan and had its own troubles. He advised all his boys to go off-planet. My dad married my mom, Myrtle, first, but the other two emigrated single and Dad lost contact with them too. I was born on ship, and we hardly ever set foot on a planet. All I've seen of people was a few times we stayed in hotels, when we came in for maintenance and supplies. I've grown up with just my parents and their partner Gordon."

"How did you end up back here then?" Earl wondered.

Lee related a condensed version of her trip and the mugging in the hotel. She slowed down and went into much more detail describing the court hearing to him.

When he went to the restroom Lee considered the risk and put her earring in her pocket.

* * *

Gwen was not idle. She was absorbing Derf as quickly as she could, with intense tutoring by Gordon. They combined language lessons with learning Derf physiology. Gwen examined him with various instruments and had to inquire as to his symptoms in Derf. Medical terminology was what she needed first. She blushed deeply and hesitated to examine personal areas. "You're a doctor, what is the problem?" Gordon asked amused.

"I'm a Vet," Gwen reminded him. "I never had to consider what my patient was thinking before. It's weird enough that you can talk."

"Better get used to it," Gordon advised her. "You were a Veterinarian in the Earth system, but you are going to be a doctor on Derfhome. In fact, if there is a Human visiting our clan you can figure you may be the only 'doc' they will have available."

"That's kind of scary," Gwen admitted. "I guess I better expand my studies if that is much of a possibility."

"All in time dear. First things first, and one thing at a time," Gordon advised.

* * *

"What a racist, elitist, narrow-minded, creepy, self-righteous thug" Earl concluded after hearing how Lee came to be fostered. "You had family, he didn't find one for you, he tried to destroy the one you have. What is your daddy doing do you think? Is he contacting the Derf embassy to have their government protest this?"

"I don't think there is a Derf embassy," Lee admitted. "That is part of the problem. Derf seem to do things differently. Each clan has a territory and they each make their laws and mind their own business. They accept each other's laws because it is a big deal to disagree. To protest can mean blood will be spilled to decide who is right, so they don't argue lightly. William from Gordon's clan had to kill a few challengers in formal judicial combat, to get them all to accept the Treaty of Man, which all this breaks," she said angrily.

Earl looked particularly unhappy. She could just about hear the wheels and gears whirling in his head. "Why do you look so grim cous'?" Lee asked.

"I'm thinking your Gordon or maybe even your Derf in general are what we call 'straight shooters' in the family. Most folks, Humans that is, leave a little room to shave the truth one way or the other. You have to watch out because you make an agreement with them they may weasel out of it if it suits them. It's almost a sport and expected to do that.

"They may not have an embassy here and see no need of one because they just expect to be treated right. Trouble is, my experience is that most weasels, and politicians all seem to be natural-born vermin of that sort, think it is just the natural thing to try to avoid keeping your agreements and you are a fool if you don't play that game too. Straight shooters, on the other hand, tend to be rigid. They have no sense of humor at all about being a low down conniving liar. When you pull that crap on them there is usually hell to pay.

"Now, we Hansons pride ourselves on personal honesty. We police the family, so we have a reputation. But we don't expect it from the system. We've learned to deal with bureaucrats and agencies, by ingratiating ourselves to some like you saw me do with the judge and the agency lady, and being an irritating nuisance to others. There are not enough of us and we don't have enough money or power to get our way by causing them real trouble. We're not revolutionaries or wreckers.

"Your Gordon now, and his clan. Are they going to complain and protest and write letters to the government about not honoring this treaty? I mean they basically kidnapped you! Or do they have the money and means and attitude to make them, as I said, some real trouble?"

Lee couldn't even say anything. She turned her head and looked up at him.

Earl took one look at her face and nodded. "Crap. That's what I was afraid of."

* * *

In Derfhome system the inbound vessel High Hopes got a packet of data and mail sent to them, as soon as their own arrival message hit Derfhome station. There was considerable speed of light delay, but it still shaved almost five hours off waiting until docking to retrieve it.

Gordon sat right seat and Gwen sat the second station with most of her board deactivated, but she was learning the basics of dealing with traffic control and how the ship worked. It didn't hurt to train as much back-up as possible flying a ship solo, like Gordon was doing. Gordon thought everyone should be cross-trained anyway.

Gordon routed the messages to her and suggested, "Take a look through those and see if you can arrange them for me in order of importance please, Gwen." He kept his attention on the ship and avoided any distraction that might delay his responses. He had never been asked or needed to maneuver quickly in-system, but assuming that would never happen was sloppy piloting.

Gwen found a number of bills for ship services and supplies their bank wanted to be checked and confirmed. Three bulletins from the shipbuilder, for suggested or required modifications to their class vessel. Five notices for navigation to be edited and acknowledged into their navigational database, from the Cataloging Society. Daily summaries from the Claims Commission for royalties. A single short statement from the Bank of Derfhome. A short personal letter from the Third Mother of Derfhome, that was basically a 'Thank You' note. Then a message set off in a box outline.

"This message is a certified interstellar message, with bonded return receipt. Do you agree to an acknowledgement being sent to Sydney, Australia, UK, Earth, to Moore, Harper, Goldberg, and McPherson attorneys, that you have received this communication? Yes/No."

That looked important enough to call to Gordon's immediate attention.

"Tell them yes and put it on my screen," Gordon instructed.

Stanley gave a concise report of the remainder of the trial he'd missed. He also included a copy of the public record so he could examine the entire thing in detail. He explained very briefly his own unofficial deportation. He came to the same conclusion Lee had sent through their security, that Gordon could better help her from afar, except he explained that as a practical matter, no individual had the respect of a typical government, to be able to apply effective leverage.

Blackwater sent their advice through Stanley that they agreed with him and Lee, for Gordon not to risk his person to North American hospitality, so that was unanimous. They also offered their further services in any capacity required. Gordon had no intention of going back, but confirmation that was wise was good to have.

Stanley had access to the first hearing record as he had an interest. However, he could get no information about the foster placement hearing, as juvenile matters were sealed from public access and he was now persona non grata in the California legal system.

Gwen had never seen Gordon's claws come out in full involuntary extension.

* * *

Lee weighed Gordon's advice about keeping her mouth shut on Earth, against the obvious genuine outrage Earl displayed about her treatment by judge Morse. She had revealed so much already. If she revealed more she might have a useful ally. If she didn't reveal more she might waste him as an ally, if he didn't know enough to help her plan. If he found out she kept facts back, it might sour their relationship too. She could easily see something happening like Blackwater showing up to rescue her and him thinking it was something bad. Maybe calling the police thinking he was helping. It all boiled down to her gut feeling, whether he'd betray her for a chance at her money. His family obviously felt trapped in their situation and a way out might be tempting, regardless of all his talk of straight-shooting. It was way more complicated and uncertain than anything she ever had to deal with before. She didn't like decisions that weren't certain.

* * *

Gordon arranged transport for Gwen and himself and all their equipment and medical supplies. The military stuff went to a station warehouse. It took twice as long as when he and Lee were traveling light. The Mothers were very receptive to Gwen not being a regular Human doctor, but still being able to bring modern medical tech to the clan. Being on Gordon's nickel meant a lot too of course. Her humble attitude about traditional medicine was in sharp contrast to previous Earth doctors who'd dismissed all herbalists as witch doctors.

What he dreaded was sharing the letter about Lee with the Mothers. It was too important and sensitive to just send ahead. He put it on the screen for them to read.

"War," declared the Second Mother, claws set in the table.

"War," the new Third Mother said with utter conviction. Not even waiting on the First Mother. She wouldn't have suggested a change in the breakfast menu without deferring to her, but she didn't hesitate here.

"War," the First Mother agreed, with a gesture that meant 'of course' and no rebuke to the others for speaking first.

"I assumed that," he admitted. "I was concerned enough to bring some military supplies for the clan, whether the decision was war or not. I offer funds too. War is never cheap."

"What other response is there to throwing aside the treaty and declaring us animals? We are not safe until this is resolved," the First Mother declared. "It is no mistake, or action of an individual who they then removed from authority. It is outright betrayal."

"It was California who did this, not the entire of North America," Gordon explained.

"Have the rest renounced it and put California's rebellion against the Treaty to an end?"

"No Ma'am."

"Silence is assent."

"All true and moot," William spoke up, "with every respect for the Mothers, if they found grounds to excuse these actions Lee still appealed before the judge to me, as her Champion and to defend the Treaty of Man. I am obligated."

"Indeed you are and we shall support you and give you first standing to right this wrong before the clan. We stand ready to your word how we may assist," the First Mother said.

"Let us council and ask Gordon what assets he brought, the First Mother invited William. "We must disperse the clan's treasure and people, with a mind to the realities of modern warfare and we must act with wisdom to be effective against a bigger, richer foe."

Chapter 35

"Earl there is something more you should know about me," Lee said. "There are risks to having me around and maybe opportunities. You are trying to help me. But I may be able to help you too."

"You are a very well-spoken young lady. I'm sure you would be an asset to any household. I realize now your furry friend will likely reclaim you someday. If nothing else, when you are of legal age there is no way they can stop you from rejoining him. Until then you may have a few adjustments to make living with us, but we'll work them out if you speak up and tell us when something is strange or difficult," Earl promised.

"Thank you. It might not drag out that long though. Let me ask you, were you aware of a new class A world being discovered? It was on the news a couple of weeks back?" Lee asked.

"I don't listen to that sort of news much. There isn't much point to it for us. My boy Joey would know. He's interested in all that. I'm sure he can tell you which way it is and how far away. Likely point where it is, if you can see it in our sky. I know they will say how that gives a boost to the economy, but it never seems to make any difference to Ishpeming, Michigan. If it trickles down that far I sure can't tell," Earl said.

"Well, that is why Gordon and I came to Earth. My mom and dad and Gordon and I discovered that world, Providence."

Earl thought about that a bit. "Seems like that should have changed things," he concluded. "Didn't the judge know Gordon had a lot of money coming to him? Rich folks usually get treated very well by the courts."

"The judge was a raving nut case when it comes to alien people. Rich or not. He flipped out and tossed him out."

Earl nodded acknowledging that, but doubt was still painted on his face.

"Do you really think he was considering how much money Gordon had?" Lee asked. "He doesn't think about how much money animals have. Anyway, I'm the senior partner. I have mom and dad's interest, so I have more money than him. You caught me out when Ms. Johnson thought my necklace had to be costume jewelry, didn't you? I saw you go all twitchy for a second."

"Yeah, but that's none of my concern. I saw your reaction, but I have no idea at all what real jewelry costs. We don't get a lot of extra credit saved up to spend and you have to spend the all negative off the card or lose it. You can't cash it out. I intended to warn you just like Ms. Johnson did: keeping anything expensive in negative income housing is dangerous. If people find out they rob you and once you had something worth taking like that, they always think you'll have something again. You'll get broken into regular and it’s a danger," Earl said.

"We should probably dispose of it then," Lee agreed, reaching up and feeling it under her shirt. "I like it, but it was close to fifty thousand dollars NA."

"Sweet Lord girl, there are folks who'd cut your throat with a rusty tin can lid for that in the projects. You keep that hidden," Earl ordered.

* * *

The administrative aide to the third assistant, of the temporary Under Secretary of State, opened the Interstellar FedEx pack. The same package was sent to several prominent news organizations in North America and other Earth nations, as well as the Lunar Republic and Mars.

It was published in the contracts section of the Derfhome Business Daily and released in the monthly letter to other clans by Red Tree. Being the first Declaration of War in over a millennium it got the attention of the other clan Mothers. They all acknowledged the Treaty of Man, but there was no call to any of them to join Red Tree in war. That was fine with them, but some of them considered whether Man might see all Derf as the same. They started planning to disperse vital resources and start buying a little extra ammo and preserved food each month. Fargone suddenly got a dozen requests from Derf clans for heavy weapons catalogs in the next courier pack.

In the North American State Department, it got date stamped without a reading, and shoved in the scan and character read basket for printed foreign government public notices. Along with news of changed visa requirements for New Japan and increased tariffs for advanced electronics on At Last! The intelligence analyst at the Fargone embassy recorded it, along with several thousand other Federal public notification websites they monitored and the drive went in the weekly diplomatic pouch for home.

The Fargone War Department knew about it before the USNA Department of Defense.

* * *

"If you are inheriting from your folks won't it be tied up in trust until you come of age?" Earl asked. "Most of the time here, if a child has any inheritance to speak of, or income from acting, or singing, or such, they have to hold it for them until they are at least eighteen,"

"It wasn't just inheritance. I was a member of the crew. I had claims in my own name. And when Gordon adopted me on Derfhome I had a legal adult status like an emancipated minor here. They have an intermediate status there – where you can do business and have some social responsibilities, you still live with a guardian, but you're not a little kid anymore."

"Well you're sharp for your age I have to admit," Earl acknowledged mulling it all over. "Those papers you wanted so bad," he nodded toward them in her lap, "they didn't mess with them?"

"They are fine and what is hard to believe, nobody stole my credit card," Lee said showing it to him. "It was folded in the papers and I'm not even sure they unfolded them and looked through them."

"Wouldn't have done them any good," her cousin assured her. "No way they are going to break a card with taster square. I can tell you don't know what a big deal this is," he said, reaching over and drawing a square around the little sensor with his finger.

"Only place I've ever seen one is in the movies, where the super high powered character whips one out and impresses the snot outta the peons by charging off an airplane or a Greek island like it is nothing. If the family court knew you had this they'd have had puppies. They like their clients broke and helpless and dependent," Earl assured her.

"The whole thing with Judge Morse was not a thought-out malicious attack," Lee explained. "He knew almost nothing about me and wasn't really interested in finding out more. I just wasn't important enough to be worth the time to know more. I think that is just how he normally served justice – with no idea really who he is dealing with and no idea how he ruined lives. I'm sure I am just dismissed in his mind now, as an irritation dealt with that he can forget."

"You got to keep this under wraps too," Earl said tapping the card with his finger, "or they will declare it as household assets and, withdraw all our allowances and throw us out in the street on our ear. That's how they do."

"Surely I could use it to help your family situation?"

"I'm not sure how," he squinted at it dubiously. "It’s risky. Are we all just going to live off the card with no backup? The negative tax is thin living, but they don't take it away easily. Experience tells me the powers that be will find some way to snatch this away if you are seen using it. If people like us get a little something, we are resented like hell for rising above our station," Earl explained.

"Social things mean more than law I'm afraid. Especially in a small town. I wouldn't be surprised if the bank would simply turn it off on the court's say so. Ms. Johnson would say, 'Oh my, no, she shouldn't have that as a minor.' and they'd just say 'Yes ma'am' and deactivate it. If you flash it around clerks will talk. Lay low with us and you'll still have it to use when you need to get back to your step-daddy."

"OK, we'll be cautious," Lee agreed, "but the issuing bank is on Derfhome. If the family court tells them to cancel it, they'll laugh and tell them to stuff it. No real need to conserve it either. They'll transfer more in from my royalties if I need it. It's adding up every day."

"I can't even wrap my head around it," Earl said. "Give me a bit to think on it. That kind of money has to have repercussions way beyond what I could predict, or know how to deal with. Best to know when you are out of your depth."

"That's sort of what our attorney Stanley said. He said that much money transcends race, or gender, or politics. He warned us it makes you a big fat target for scammers and crooks."

"Of course your step daddy can tap that too," he suddenly thought out loud, flicking a finger at the card. "He might cut the card off, if he sees charges and isn't sure it's you doing them."

"Oh no." Lee corrected him. "This is my money. He's got his own separate royalty flow from the Commission." Then remembering a classic video, she joked, "He's not digging in the sofa cushions for spare change himself."

Oddly, Earl didn't see the humor in that.

* * *

Sheddia's Ship Shop on Derfhome station was the only Fabricator that made sized p-suits for Derf. Most suits were custom cut to measurement even though you could do near the same level of fitting by mixing various sizes of arms, legs, and torsos and by swap out various specialized helmets and external filters and such. Most users were not fussy about fit if you could get it within a half-centimeter of the ideal size and he could assemble that sort of a suit in a couple of hours.

Their usual sales were two or three assembled sized suits a month. An order for fourteen suits with support gear to maintain them and extra limbs to alter them on site was unusual.

The fact the torsos ordered were all in a three size range for very large male Derf and the specs called out attachment points for maneuvering units, armor, weapons harness, and pull tab over-tourniquets, made him decide discretion was important.

He pulled two of his sons off other work and moved the job to a separate private compartment. If this was an indicator of future demand, some things might be in short supply that came from out-system. He put an extra order in to his supplier on Fargone for Grade Seven ballistic panels, tourniquet cables, actuators, and diamond panel cutters.

Everything else he could buy in-system, even cable if a little lower spec, but he had a funny feeling about this. The speculative items didn't take too big a bite of the order's profit.

Fargone Intelligence noted the order.

Chapter 36

The news conference was about closer ties with Iceland. The Secretary answered a few low ball questions and was relaxed. Nothing significant was happening internationally so there was no real tension. He allowed a final question.

"Mr. Secretary, we received a news release stating The Sovereign Nation of Red Tree on Derfhome, has declared war upon the United States of North America, due to our renouncing the Treaty of Man and kidnapping one of their citizens. Several other news organizations have received the same packet. Can you comment on this?"

He examined the reporter's face carefully, to see if this was some elaborate joke. It wasn't April first and the woman appeared serious.

"I'd imagine if someone had declared war on us, as Secretary of State I'd have been advised," he replied confidently. "If they have declared war against the USNA from their little patch of boondock planet, fifty light-years away I'd say it doesn't mean much until we declare war on them," he quipped and smiled for the cameras.

* * *

Gordon, William, and the Mothers watched the video of the Secretary's remarks. They had engaged an all-media clipping service, to send them media response and public sentiment off the webs, after the news broke. That the Declaration of War would be denied and scorned with insulting humor was unanticipated.

"I know you'd like to strike back without restraint for the humiliation," William said calmly. "I too would like to put a rock at a good fraction of light speed on Vancouver. But we need to humiliate them with more subtlety and draw them to us where we have the local advantage and won't be labeled monsters for waging war like they have forgotten it can be conducted. It has turned into a game of pressure for them, not a contest of survival."

"If it were another clan we would take their lands and remove their genes from the race. But Gordon and I have talked and agree if we did that to North America, the rest of the Human race would fear us so much we would have to contest with all of them – all the worlds of Man."

"Would you explain what we have in mind instead, Gordon?" William asked.

"Well for a start, there is a concept in Human law, that has been little used of late, termed Letters of Marque and Reprisal. They cannot claim it is incomprehensible alien law. I think it will get their attention."

* * *

They waited three weeks and said nothing more. The time was well used for training and planning. The three Red Tree males with vacuum experience were used as team leaders and other Derf with similar experience hired or recruited. Six came aboard as paid mercenaries and three joined in exchange for Red Tree citizenship for them and their immediate family. They were all clan males, no nomads or city merchants, so they all had military training.

Three teams of four worked just fine. Three Human ships were scheduled to be at Derfhome Station at the same time. That might not happen again for a year or more, so it was important to grab the opportunity. One was a civilian freighter Fly Over Country, registered to North America. Another was a passenger liner registered to Cuba, but they had a very rigid mutual defense and aid treaty with NA. It was tight, the passenger liner was set to depart just a few hours after the freighter docked. The bigger prize was the USNA Heavy Deep Space Cruiser Cincinnati, which would be docking at Derfhome station to reprovision on the way to Fargone.

Two chartered shuttles lifted twenty-eight Red Tree warriors to the station. Some of the gear was already there in storage. More had been sent up over the last week. One shuttle was docked near the cruiser without asking. The other when assigned a distant dock, asked to be switched near the liner because the pilot wanted to do supper at Desmones on a quick turn-over. Naturally, the liner was docked near the high-end shop and restaurant level, so it made perfect sense.

Some of the gear was brought to the shuttles, an entirely innocent looking operation and some of the Derf went to the storage rooms. Split up, there was enough room to dress in armor and suits.

The freighter came in to dock normally. Traffic control sounded normal, because they had no idea anything was happening. All the action was on the docks and the breaching crew didn't walk onto their own dock until the freighter was thirty seconds from contact. Gordon took the freighter because it seemed the most uncertain. William took the cruiser, having more knowledge of the military mind.

The loading crew waiting on the freight dock suddenly decided to be elsewhere, when armored Derf with weapons trotted up to the access. They got there just in time to feel the clunk of grapples engage through the deck and see tell tales light up green for station power and sanitary pump out. They waited until fresh water and station compressed air showed connected and the portal seal swung up against the overhead, exposing the ship airlock.

The flight crew, seeing armed soldiers on their lock camera, immediately tried to initiate undock procedures. However, the grapples had been jammed in the locked position. The ship technically had control of them, but a pry bar was jammed behind the clamp as soon as station feed showed the ship docked. Finding which corridor and panel exposed the grapple posts, had required some very skillful recruiting of previous maintenance staff.

Given a choice between surrendering politely and being guaranteed good treatment, or having their drive spines blown off by space-suited soldiers and their lock blown in from the dock, the five-person crew was quick to negotiate.

"Will you give us time to pack our shore bags and take our personal gear off with us if we open up and surrender?" the commander asked.

"No problem," Gordon assured him. "I'm a spacer and understand your concerns, however, I'm sending aboard a few experienced hands. If you delay a bunch and think you are going to dump the environmental cultures to vacuum, or sneak all the spare Tritium injectors out in your duffle to delay our use of the ship, we're going to be peeved with you."

"Uh, my second says he has a personal pistol he'd like to take out in his bag. He just wants to make sure that's not going to upset anybody."

"Tell him he can wear it openly for all we care. Local law doesn't address it, just custom and I doubt you are going to assault a squad of armored troops with a silly little pistol. Arm yourself, Captain, if you have a ship's armory. We'll have a cart to take you and your stuff to the Hilton at our expense. I expect to be able to repatriate you to the Earth system tomorrow. In fact, you should arrive home quicker than your schedule."

"We're agreeable," the freighter captain told them. The lock opened and three Derf entered. Gordon stayed on the camera.

"Are we to be detained then at the Hilton?" The captain asked.

"Detained?" Gordon asked surprised. "Whatever for? I wouldn't care if you go out bar hopping, or down to Derfhome, but if you can't be found when we ship everybody home, you can make your own way at your own expense. On the other hand, if you would rather immigrate and want to crew on our captured vessel we'd interview you for the position."

"Captured? Like bloody pirates? I assumed you just wanted the cargo. What the devil has happened that you are doing this to a North American flagged vessel?

"They renounced The Treaty of Man and kidnapped one of our citizens. My daughter, if that part of it is of any interest. Anyway, I'd prefer to be called a privateer," Gordon allowed, with as close to an offended prissy fit look as a Derf could muster.

The Captain gapped at him astonished and then burst into laughter. "Letters of Marque and Reprisal," he correctly guessed. "I don't think anyone has ever used them for space vessels. We studied about that in the Academy and I was pissed they wasted our time with a thousand arcane and obsolete facts. I guess they get the last laugh.

"I can't imagine what fool would kidnap your daughter. It sounds like a worthy cause but I still don't want to crew for you, because if the ship is retaken by USNA Marines, I doubt they will be as polite as you.

"I'm going to give you two pieces of free advice. One is, you don't want to do this to a family-owned ship, where everybody has shares. They are liable to blow the thing at dock rather than let you take it – and take half the station with them, so check the registry. The other is the hold is full of high-end military tech from New Japan, that was going to both Fargone and Earth. You really didn't know what Fly Over Country was carrying?"

"No, sir. We just lucked out. We'd have found out eventually, but it was unplanned."

"Well my furry friend, I'm going to the Hilton and put the biggest steak they have on your tab and I'm so fearful of you and reprisals, I'm not going to report the details of this until I hit port in the Home system. You probably have all the outbound com cut off anyway, right?"

"Not really. We want to rub their noses in it is closer to the truth," Gordon told him.

* * *

The cruiser was moved on simultaneously. Two suited figures dropped on the hull at the command deck level, above the docking ring. The bump of the flight deck had actual viewports, looking out at the nose of the ship and the side of the station. Two Derf landed lightly a meter in front of the glass and attached a half meter long cylinder to the vessel with instant vacuum cement. The three little pivoting footpads sealed to the hull contours and they tested by lifting it firmly. It didn't budge.

The steel drum was perhaps 30 liters in volume and had a radio on the top end, with a little whip antenna and a rectangle of sheet metal tack welded to the side facing the window. To dispel all doubt, the sheet had stenciled in large block letters – BOMB.

The Derf had rehearsed doing this without the cement and had attached it in a little more than two seconds. They turned and looked inside, needing to bend over to do so. Both watch officers were totally absorbed in their screens and hadn't even seen the suited figures in plain view. There were no external floods, but the compartment was so bright there was plenty of illumination out the ports.

The Derf looked at each other. Finally, one pulled a screwdriver from the mini-kit on his leg and tapped the viewport with it. When an officer looked up he waved him over. The man looked completely at ease probably thinking them station maintenance workers. The Derf showed him the radio control, then stepped to the side and showed him the newly installed hood ornament.

"B*O*M*B?" they saw the man's lips form. Then, "O*H_S*H*I*T." They jetted away.

They tried sending out their own suited crew of course. Their mid-ships locks were welded shut. The crew managed to totally dump the vessel’s computer, but otherwise, the vessel was captured intact. They figured capturing the computer intact would take a hot entry and bloodshed, so it had never been a goal. They had an entire separate navigational suite ready to install if the computer was not only wiped but wrecked. That wasn't necessary, just memory.

The Captain and three ranking officers were captured walking back from a dinner aboard the station. The com line to station paging had been cut first thing and they were halfway across the dock returning, before they were aware the sentries outside were no longer theirs.

* * *

The passenger liner Matilda had only an unarmed flunky in a pretty white uniform, standing in the open lock to keep the station riff-raff from wandering in and using the restrooms or mooching the free coffee bar. He trotted off agreeably when instructed to take two armed troopers to the officer of the watch, who was simply informed his vessel was captured and the Captain would be informed what was to happen with it when their commander was through with the other two Earth ships at dock and could interview him.

When Gordon and William came in, Captain Holden wanted to argue. "Shut up for a second," William growled at him. "I'm going to make you an offer and if you refuse I'll strand you and your crew and passengers in a prisoner of war camp on the surface and run the ship with a prize crew. Gods only know when you will get to go home and we don't have the means to give you luxury accommodations even if we wanted to. It would be tents and field showers and whatever your fancy gourmet cooks could do with a field kitchen and very basic military level supplies. Your customers will remember it forever, I'm sure."

That got his attention. William nodded to Gordon to speak.

"The other possibility is we have prisoners from the freighter Fly Over Country and the cruiser Cincinnati. You are not running at capacity. If you can take on the additional thirty-seven people we'll let you go, with your ship, for the service of repatriating them. You'll have to move folks around and double up some rooms and officers quarters. You may have to use suites as doubles and hot bunk a few active crew, but it can be done."

"That has to be pushing my environmental capacity close to the limit," he worried. "I'd rather strand my passengers in tents than kill them."

"First, we have four moon-hut recycler units we can send along, which will extend your capacity well past what you need. We also are pulling your freight off so you will be running light and we'll tank you up to maximum so you can run a minimum time flight, rather than a more economical boost. Does that address your concerns?" Gordon asked.

"Yes, but what happens to my freight?"Captain Holden asked.

"If it was in transit we'd simply take it," Gordon said. "We are in a declared war. We can seize enemy shipping and Cuba has a mutual defense pact with North America. Even neutral shipping can be seized in war under certain conditions, with compensation. However, most of your freight is from Derfhome and we have no desire to antagonize neighbors and allies. It will simply be returned to the holders and forwarders, for delayed shipping.

"We doubt if any Earth ships will risk docking here until hostilities end. But folks will get around that by trans-shipping through third parties I'm sure."

"Take it or leave it," William interjected gruffly like he was weary of discussion. "I doubt the company would pay much to ransom you, but I bet they'd pay a sweet sum to get this ship back."

"Oh, I'll take it," the captain agreed quickly. "My passengers are not inconvenienced or endangered. I retain my command. The company even looks good for rescuing the other crews."

"Some free advice," William told him. "I've worked with military people before. Don't be surprised if the cruiser crew walks in and expects to take command. He may try to officially commandeer it and his interest will not be for your passengers or for your company,"

"He can do that if war is declared," the Captain acknowledged.

"The funny thing about that," Gordon said, "is we have declared war on North America, but North America seems reluctant to declare war on us. I’ll leave it to you to decide where that leaves you."

"You do a sweet good-cop, bad-cop," Gordon told William walking out.

"Humpf…" William grunted suspiciously. "Which was I?"

Chapter 37

Michigan was one big city from the Detroit airport, which weirdly enough was not in Detroit, to the north of Flint. Lee had never been in a big commercial bus before and didn't understand why they didn't fly closer. Cousin Earl explained they could have flown a commuter flight to a Sawyer airport, but it was cheaper to have them take the bus.

"Be glad they didn't make us take the bus all the way to Michigan," Earl told her. Even worse, Earl explained this bus would take all day to take them to the terminal at what he referred to as 'The Soo' and another would take them west across most of another big peninsula to Ishpeming. He talked about Hansons and Andersons and Tolivers in Ishpeming and Escanaba and Marquette until Lee couldn't absorb any more.

The city had been depressing, lots of old buildings, some visibly empty. Commercial buildings were behind high fences with razor wire rolls on top. There were illegal slogans and art painted on every flat surface. Even places that looked dangerous to climb, just to do graffiti.

Paper and trash like discarded food containers as well as heavier trash were everywhere and the weeds were a tall jungle right up to the road.

Once they got north of Saginaw there were more fields of crops and trees, not weeds. Lee nudged Earl and pointed quickly once, asking, "What's that?" about a brown animal standing to look over the high grass. "Just a groundhog," he said, amused at her interest.

"I need to let my lawyer know what happened to me," Lee told Earl. "But I'm scared to use my phone and get a record of it on the system. I may need it later and they could deactivate it. I'm not sure what to do."

"If you are going to call, best do it now," Earl encouraged her. "They will see you logged on a rural tower out in the middle of nowhere, near Grayling. Phones aren't that hard to get or just borrow for a call." He didn't ask what she needed to tell her lawyer, which surprised her.

She composed it as a text to Stanley. "Fostered to cousin Earl Hanson's family, Ishpeming Michigan. Am well and safe and have funds and papers. Laying low. Thank you for your service. Love to Gordon, Lee." She showed it to Earl, in a spirit of trust.

"That's good your people know where you are. The judge and the agency, neither one thought to tell me you couldn't have contact. You get that a lot in domestic cases, but like you said, I don't think he was running on brains, it was all emotion. That's better for you it wasn't any fancy thought out plan.

"Now that he is all cooled off he shouldn't think about you and he's sent you out of his jurisdiction anyway. Marquette County people wouldn't appreciate him continuing to poke his nose into their turf now and he knows how that works. If we don't make any fuss the system may ignore you.

"The Hansons are pretty good at quietly getting along. Some of the folks on public assistance and negative tax complain about everything and create a fuss almost weekly. They think they are getting something more being a pain in the butt, but I think we do better asking politely and filling out all the forms neat and proper."

Lee turned the phone on, was happy to see she had plenty of charge on it, sent the text, and shut just her phone function off. That felt odd. She couldn't look anything up on the web, but nobody could ping her location either. She still had all her videos to watch and all her books including stuff like her Japanese tutorial. There really wasn't any excuse not to keep at her lessons she realized.

* * *

The bus got into Ishpeming after midnight, what with stops at Newberry, Munising, and Marquette. Earl had a card to use the local minibus service for negative tax folks, the elderly, and disabled. However, it only ran from 7 am 'til 10 pm. The bus depot was small and reasonably clean, but it had a security guard and a sign that announced: "Departing passengers in the lounge must have a paid ticket for a scheduled bus. Arriving passengers must vacate the lounge within an hour of arrival. No loitering, littering, disorderly conduct or intoxicants." They'd just arrived and the security guard was already giving them the fisheye.

"I'm not sure how to handle this," Earl admitted. "If it was just me I'd walk. Nobody is going to bother me. But the neighborhood is not very nice. I can't ask a young lady to walk near four miles across downtown and into the projects at night."

"How about a cab?" Lee asked. "Do you have taxis?"

"Negative card isn't good for them. I think the company has one cab on overnight call, but I'm not sure he'd take us in the projects," Earl said.

"I saw a hotel a block away when the bus came in," Lee remembered. "Could we stay there and get your regular ride in the morning?"

"Can't use Negative card for lodging in our home county. Not unless there is a natural disaster or something like your place gets burned up and you have a letter," Earl said.

"Doesn't seem like you can use that card for much of anything," Lee complained.

"You live on it a few years you learn the rules by heart. I hear what you are saying, but it doesn't do any good to complain. There are ways around it when it is worth the risk, but it beats the daylights outta being on the sidewalk, with nowhere to go and hungry.

"You mess up and have your qualifications withdrawn, well, you better start walking and trying to bum rides south, because come winter, which is might nasty around here, you are either going to freeze to death, or get jailed as a habitual vagrant," Earl explained patiently.

"I was hoping to hold off using my card, but I could rent us a room," Lee offered.

"Gotta be eighteen to rent a room," he said with a wry smile.

They sat quietly thinking for a while.

"Any all-night restaurants around where we could sit if we keep ordering?" Lee asked.

"Not close," Earl said. "Down the state highway, again, further than I'm willing to walk.

"Would the cops give us a ride?" Lee asked in desperation.

"I'll ignore that, because you are not from around here and you don't know any better," Earl said. "I wouldn't think you'd be eager to see police again so soon," he said pointedly.

The ticket window was closed and the office dark. If you wanted a ticket there was an automated dispenser that would print one. There was one man sitting alone with a duffel bag in his lap on end. It was just long enough for him to cross his arms on it and rest his head. He might have been asleep or not. You couldn't move his bag without alerting him.

A couple sitting well away had their soft bags between their feet. The woman was twisted sideways a bit and leaning on the man's shoulder. He was alert and holding what must be his tickets in his hand in case the security guard challenged him.

How long were they going to sit like that? Lee wondered. The seats were hard plastic, molded to fit your butt, but still not like a soft upholstered chair and it was cool in the room. She looked up at the board for buses. There was a 2:35 in from Houghton, departing 2:50 to Marquette, Escanaba, Marinette, and arriving Green Bay 5:30. Then a 4:50 in from Marquette, departing 5:10 to Manistique and St Ignace. A 6:15 from…

"Hey, Earl. If I buy us a pair of tickets on the 7:10 to Escanaba – Iron Mountain we can sit here until the minibus is running. I don't mind going up to a machine and using it. I don't have to worry about some nosey clerk not liking me being young."

Earl looked at the board closer. "Why sit here on plastic, when we could buy comfortable soft seats on the 2:50 for Green Bay? Let's check the touch screen up there and see what is coming back this way from Green Bay." There was a 6:10 from Green Bay, that would get back to Ishpeming 8:50. Was a night on a bus better than a night on hard plastic seats? Oh yes. Lee was anxious to stop riding from boredom before, but it was better than the terminal.

Lee went up, punched up two tickets to Green Bay and two returns, read the four lines that displayed on the screen, and with an abundance of caution had Earl check it too. Earl stood blocking the view for the security guard and Lee made very sure her thumb was on the reader in case the machine had that ability, and swiped it.

"Thank you for using MegaBus-North America, please remove your tickets," the screen said. They extended from a slot below and as soon as Lee tugged a little she felt them cut.

Gordon was right, dealing with a Human society was complicated.

* * *

Despite sleeping on the bus, Earl and Lee were both exhausted when the Marquette county free bus dropped them at his home. She barely acknowledged an introduction to the family, wolfed down a breakfast sandwich, and fell asleep on the bed to which she was led before a blanket was thrown over her.

She woke up in time for supper. She was worried she was a huge inconvenience, so their children Joe and Jerri would resent her. Both of them seemed a little shy of her at the table. "Thank you for letting me sleep. I don't want to kick anybody out of their bed tonight though. I'm used to sleeping on a foam pad, or a blanket on the floor. I'd be plenty happy with that," Lee offered.

"Really?" Jerri asked amazed. "Why'd you do that? If we didn't have our own room and bed, the housing authority would have a fit and call Family Services."

"Unless you are the Thompsons with three girls and two boys," Joey pointed out. "They have bunks with the boys in one room and the girls in another and one bathroom," he said rolling his eyes. "Dad says you grew up on a ship. Did you have your own room there?"

"Yes, but we'd call it a cabin," Lee told him, "and it was about a third of the size of the room I just slept in. The bed folded into the bulkhead, uh…wall, and had some cabinets for my personal stuff. I didn't spend much time there anyway. We had a common room that we shared most of the time."

"That's my room," Jerri told her. "I'm eight and Joey is eleven, so he got the room that's the same size but has a window."

"That's too bad," Lee sympathized. "I'm sure it's only until you catch up with him," she said straight-faced. Jerri looked confused a second, then Joey started giggling.

"Oh, I'm going to get you for that," Jerri promised, but she was smiling despite herself.

Dinner, Lee noted, was reheated not cooked. It wasn't bad in a bland cafeteria food sort of way. She'd eaten enough ration packs to know the difference. The coffee, however, was a shock. They made it with grounds Earl bragged he traded for and they had been used once by a local restaurant. It was made with about four times the amount of coffee you'd need if fresh and seeped all through the meal in something like a giant French press. It was still weaker than her dad made, but way better than no coffee at all, she decided.

"Tomorrow I'll go talk to Housing," Earl said. "The judge and agency lady in California said he'd instruct them to expand our base allowances. We shouldn't have to make do for long, but you should be OK for just a couple of nights on the couch, Lee. Don't you think?"

"That's fine by me. I've slept in tents and on the metal deck of a shuttle hold."

* * *

Lee went with Earl to the Housing Authority offices in Marquette. She was amazed again when he walked differently and looked different in his body language. The letter from California seemed to have a lot of authority. The clerk and Earl spoke as if she wasn't there at all. She wasn't introduced and the lady never acknowledged her.

The clerk gave Earl a choice between a one bath, with four small bedrooms all the same, or a three-bedroom with a large, medium and small bedrooms, and a bath and a half. He took the three-bedroom without hesitation. He got a voucher to have it painted and a furniture voucher. The painters would not be able to schedule them for a week. He asked the clerk for an inspection while waiting and she agreed easily.

Lee kept her mouth shut, but after they left she expressed surprise he hadn't volunteered to paint the place himself, instead of wait.

"No, no, you don't do that," Earl said horrified. "I'm glad you didn't say anything in there. They walked a bit and she waited, because she could tell he was trying to compose an answer for her.

"If I did like you said, I'd have no idea whose toes I'm be stepping on. There is an art to getting along. The painter may be her son or nephew. If I complain I can't wait, I'm pushing her to use another contractor. She may be getting a few bucks back from each job, or a six-pack of beer, or a free paint job for her home every few years. I don't know. It's not my concern. But as long as I don't rock the boat I'm an asset to her. She has clean reports to her boss, with few complaints. I'm a safe, known quality when I come into the office. Are you following this?" Earl asked.

"A little, tell me more," Lee asked Earl.

"The painting contract is a big deal. It is from Federal money, so it pays prevailing union wages for the state. That means what it would pay down in the city. That's three or four times what you could hire somebody to do it for if you paid cash locally. There's not much work north of the bridge. There are all kinds of contractors who service government housing. Plumbers, electricians, heating guys, roofers. They all have favors and agreements between them. They bring money in from out of town that stays here. If I volunteer to paint my own walls I'm hurting the whole area. Why do I want to make her painters unemployed like me? And do you think the other tenants are going to thank me if they get asked to paint their own walls 'cause I did?"

"Uh, I guess not," Lee admitted.

"Now some folks go in and bitch and moan and threaten to write letters of complaint and organize protest committees. I'm sure they think they are standing up for their rights and getting what they deserve. That sort, she wouldn't have given them a choice of which unit. And that sort might well have waited a month or two to get painted.

"Those three-bedroom units are a commercial condos project. The government took the whole thing when there was a downturn and the builder went bust. They weren't built for government housing. You'll have to share a room with Jerri, but having a half bath will make it lots easier having five people in a unit. The condos don't even look like projects and they are on their own road. She doesn't offer those units to folks who complain and party and get police calls every few weeks and kick holes in the walls."

"Thank you. I'm learning how things work," Lee assured him. "I'll stay quiet."

"It doesn't hurt to talk to her like she's important too. Ask what she can do for you, instead of demand. Never seen anybody don't eat it up," Earl told her.

* * *

"What are you doing with the High Hopes?" William asked Gordon. "If the Americans raid here while you are away, they may seize or destroy her."

"I have a couple ferrying her to Fargone. She'll go into storage there, among enough others she won't stand out and I may have some systems installed before we take her out again."

* * *

The commander of the Cincinnati appeared at the hatch and asked to enter the bridge. The flight deck was extra spacious and fancy, for the benefit of passengers who requested a visit. "Come on in and have a seat," Captain Holden offered. "The third console there will display everything, and you can watch us run up to jump."

"I'll stand, thank you. I want a seat, but the one you are in, not third. I need this vessel to go directly to the nearest USNA depot and staging area, which is not Earth. We need to muster the most vessels and force we can, in the shortest time."

"What for?" Holden asked, amused. "You don't have a declaration of war from Congress. Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself, to presume to direct a response? And what provisions will you make for my passengers on a forward military base?"

"I won't debate you on it. I need your ship and I'm commandeering it based on simple necessity. You will stand aside and my crew will take over."

"Leaving aside the two hundred some souls in the back who I'm responsible for, you had a command and couldn't hold on to it. What makes you think some half-assed, wet-behind-the-ears mutineer can take mine away from me, son?" Holden's hair was gone to silver and he had more command experience than the three ranking Cincinnati officers put together.

The officer drew a pistol from inside his tunic, pointing it at the overhead by his shoulder.

"No more talk. Get out of the seat old man. You and your second go to your cabins and consider yourselves under arrest. I'll need the others to brief my crew on your systems and assist."

When Holden just looked at him hard-faced, he slipped his finger in the trigger guard and started a motion to lower it.

The shot was deafening in the flight deck. The mutineer staggered forward from the impact. The frangible bullet didn't come out his chest. He opened his mouth, but blood came out and poured down his white uniform instead of words. He collapsed on the deck, pistol clattering away.

"Get that pistol," Holden directed his second officer. He nodded thanks at the second officer from Fly Over Country. "You were right and I thank you for your assistance. Would you please go aft and search the rest of his crew, gentlemen? Confiscate any weapons including pocket knives. Also, direct the galley crew to lock all the steak knives securely and keep anything that could be a weapon secured between prep times. If you encounter any resistance I am specifically ordering you to use lethal force, if there is the least chance failure will result in the loss of our vessel."

"Aye, aye," his second said. The freighter crewman just nodded grimly.

Two more rapid shots echoed through the hull before they came back.

"His XO tried to draw on us. We fired pretty much together. Sorry, we wasted a round. What shall we do with them?"

"The freezers are topped up. We don't need the dead mass. Tell you what. Put them in the maintenance airlock and drop it slowly to vacuum. They will be mummies by the time we jump and the Navy can still have their remains for kin. They won't mass much dried out. They won't be happy with us no matter what we do with them now, will they?" Holden asked.

Chapter 38

Earl's wife, Faye, took Lee to get clothing in Marquette. There was one big store that had reasonable prices and took the voucher. Lee picked denim jeans and knit t-shirts. That's what she was used to since Faye told her coveralls were not worn and they wouldn't have them small enough anyway. She got a flannel shirt with a hood because they had no wool. Wool was expensive, she found out. A pair of tennis shoes and some socks were fine, but Lee insisted on a pair of real boots. She got them, but it used up her voucher. Faye reminded her several times she wouldn't get another until the fall. The new condo had its own washer and dryer, which made everybody happy because they had used a community wash center before.

"Oh, you'll have to be evaluated and get schooling assigned this fall too," Diana suddenly thought to tell her. "Summer schooling is optional. Earl and I both grew up having summer vacations and we chose that for our kids too."

"Where do they go to school?" Lee asked, worried.

"Oh, they take their lessons at home. Only a fancy private school can afford a central building and boarding, or the expense of busing everybody there day after day. Some on negative income don't keep after their kids to do their lessons," she said disapprovingly, "but I do. You can skate along and they won't push, but I won't have them like half the projects, who can't read their forms and fill them out without a clerk helping."

Lee just kept her mouth shut. Gordon would have been proud.

Her foot finally healed completely without any treatment. She started doing exercises again, but she didn't have anybody with who she could spar. Earl told her not to do it outside where people could see.

"Earl, your wife kept reminding me I wouldn't get another clothing voucher until fall. Is it OK to tell her I have my own money? I've kept it quiet, but we can go get some cash at a machine if I need things. For that matter, I'd be happy to buy anything you need and have a hard time affording. It's not any burden."

"I'll tell her myself, but I have to do it right. I love my wife, but she isn't good at keeping secrets. I thank you, but I don't want to take from you unless it is an emergency. It doesn't feel right. We'd have to cover it up if it was something you could see. Jerri and Joey have friends in, kids aren't dumb and they talk back home. As long as we have what we need, leave it be."

* * *

The message from Stanley repeated Lee's message about where she was and most importantly that she was safe. He then informed Gordon Blackwater would have agents in place soon watching the family. Stanley went on in some detail about the legal complexities of challenging her foster placement in court. After reading a few detailed analyses of the jurisdictional complexities and the difficulty of establishing standing, the legal side of it was beyond him. He just replied: "What are the odds we could just snatch her and have her above atmosphere before they know what the heck is happening?"

* * *

Media Headlines – Shorts

Pravda – Americans in Secret Interstellar War - American Ships Seized.

Daily Lunatic - Naval officers repay rescue by staging mutiny - Attempt take-over of civilian ship carrying over 200 passengers. Two killed in 'Battle for the Bridge'.

Shipping News – Liner captain lands at Lunar Republic – leaves system on first outbound ship.

Washington Wow (in exile) - State Department denies receiving Declaration of War posted on their own web site. Secretary in video says War notice a joke of powerless boondockers nation can ignore.

The Interstellar Investor - Explorers ask if North America is safe for wealthy to visit? An ugly history of forfeiture cited.

Sapient Rights /Web - Judge calls Derf soulless animal and furry freak - says foreign law null regardless of treaty recognition. References religious beliefs and throws Derf from his courtroom.

FarNews - Fargone disperses armed vessels with orders to defend themselves.

Star Law Journal - Letters of Marque and Reprisal EARTH law not Derf. Hoist on our own Petard?

Rights Watch /Web - Rights organization labels alien sapients 'New Niggers' - Safe to hate people who have fur or feathers.

Financial Times /Web Site - Explorer stocks down on fear system will limit awards. Claims Commission denies NA has made any claim on heiress payments. Assures it is still independent.

Commodities Analyst - Central banks limit PM transfers out-system.

LA Times /Web - California court says placement of Claims heiress not public information.

Oh, my. Lee read the headlines in shock. She'd better show Earl.

* * *

"Allowing a small tribal government, not even a world, to dictate to us would make us look like fools," the Secretary of Defense insisted.

"We already look foolish," the President growled. "Have you looked at the news headlines? State was denying they had been notified of a formal state of war, while the document was posted on their own site. It was a classic example of the right hand not knowing what the left was doing. Oy vey!"

"Foolish like big complex organizations can be by accident," the Secretary insisted, "people understand that, but not weak. If you fumble - be a fumbling giant. I say we have a war – prosecute it. Establish who is in charge and then be gracious to them, but from a position of mastery, not weakness. No nation can afford to look weak. Send a punitive expedition and then quietly get our warship back and give them their brat."

"What do you have to send and what would they do? What would be their objective?" The President asked.

"We have a platoon of Space Marines, Special Forces trained to fight in any imaginable environment, that can be dropped from the DSC St. Louis. "The Secretary of Defense said. "They were just ready to do a show the flag cruise to Dustin's World and Lucky Strike. They have two combat shuttles that can either of them land a platoon in one drop and seize the Red Tree's only city, a village really. They have no orbital capacity or air force and if they have any air defenses it would be man-portable."

"Could you send two platoons if it has two shuttles?" the President asked.

"I could send four platoons, a short company, and grapple the shuttles externally," the Secretary said, "but it would be massive overkill and a waste of resources."

"Good, I like massive overkill and certainty, do it," the President ordered, "and get Federal custody of this girl the old fool snatched, so we can return her if that's what we decide."

"Mr. President, I respectfully submit my resignation," the Secretary of Interstellar Affairs said. He pushed the memo pad forward, on which he had scribbled the one-line resignation.

"Why, Allen?" he asked, surprised.

"You rushed to a decision without consulting me, or any of your other space agencies, rendering my purpose irrelevant. I no longer have confidence in your judgment," he said bluntly. "Too big to admit an error and correct it gracefully is a stupid and dangerous policy. You have not balanced the risks of modern warfare against your ego. North America has continually played at war for the second half of its existence. Two hundred years of fighting only enemies who can't seriously hurt it. Wars that mean as much in the end, as a high school football game." Allen took a deep breath and looked at them.

"Red Tree has not waged a war for twelve hundred years. They have existed three times as long as that and don't dabble at war like a hobby. Do you know what happened to the last clan with who they went to war? It doesn't exist. They took their land, killed every male of breeding age, tore down their castle, and destroyed their banners and symbols."

"Yes, with bronze axes and bows and arrows," the Secretary of Defense mocked.

"They hold the Heavy Deep Space Cruiser Cincinnati," Allen pointed out. "Any starship full of rocks and boosted from beyond the system edge would be a relativistic bomb impossible to intercept and capable of taking out a quarter of the North American continent with one strike. It is only by the grace of God and the wisdom we found to let our colonies go before they demand their freedom, that we have avoided such a strike. As a species, we have yet to invent a weapon we have not used. I had hoped when it inevitably does happen, the Chinese or Indians would be the fools to invite it down on their heads. But when I leave here I am taking my family and going to Luna or beyond. I won't sit here while you make them a target," he said nodding at the angry Secretary of Defense. He walked out on the meeting and President early, breaking all protocol.

* * *

"Earl, I want to go somewhere I can get some cash and buy some things. I'm scared and I don't know what is happening and I want to be able to run if it looks like the smart thing to do. Who do you know, who can take me to a couple of different teller machines without leaving a trail?" Lee asked.

"Tell me the truth, Lee, are you coming back? I'll help you anyway," Earl said, "but I have to plan differently if you intend to disappear. If you are running now I have to report you gone the next day or it will be hell to pay for my family. If you are really coming back I can cover you being gone a few days, OK?"

"I really will come back, unless something unplanned happens to me. I wouldn't lie to you."

"No, I don't think you would. OK, I know a man who has a car," Earl said. "Not too old and not too new. The sort that doesn't attract attention. He drives people down to the city and back, who don't want to advertise. Them as can't have their luggage sniffed and looked at too closely for the bus."

"Can you trust him? Am I going to be safe with him?" Lee asked.

"My family and his family all know each other. He's not going to dirty his own well. Besides, I didn't just fall off the turnip truck. I'll tell him he is being asked to work for just you – no other passengers or packages this trip. And I'll ask him to take his wife and his little girl along as cover. He's not going to pull anything funny with them along. How much do you want to pay though? He's going to charge more for special service," Earl warned.

"What does he usually carry? Is he a smuggler? Does he carry drugs or weapons? Lee asked.

"Oh my, no," Earl looked shocked. "Do you think I'd send you off with somebody like that? People fish and hunt," he hesitated, "and poach a bit too. They pack it in dry ice, send it down to the City to relatives who can't afford meat. Some folks do sell a bit of it, though that part is illegal. He carries down cheese that people make the old fashioned way. It actually tastes like cheese. Not the crap they sell in the stores. And there are folks who keep honey bees.

"He brings back stuff like cigarettes. There are people who still smoke, them as aren't on the negative, and have to pass drug tests. People give him shopping lists too. A can of vegetables in Ishpeming runs about four dollars. Down in the City you can get them for half that. Sometimes he buys a case on speculation and sells them out on the quiet. Sometimes people do ride with him who don't want to be tracked. Why is their business."

That sort of took the wind out of Lee's sails. She thought she was going to have a risky adventure with shifty characters. Cheese?

"Whatever you negotiate with him then. Don't make us look like marks willing to pay anything. We need to keep some respect. I don't mind if he carries freight though. Just not people who can figure out who I am and maybe get greedy," Lee worried.

"You're getting smarter about this sort of thing," Earl said smiling.

* * *

The man-sized hatches up the center of the Cincinnati were ripped out and Derf rated welded in. They didn't try to make it pretty. The raw welds were not even ground smooth or painted over. The corridor was offset to one side now, so only one compartment on each level had to have its bulkhead moved in, to widen the corridor. The shift of the center of mass was corrected by one counterweight, in the form of a formed plate welded to the hull outside an amidships cabin. It was a minimum mass solution, to add a neutralizing moment arm. The ship had its original balance restored at the cost of a bit more than three hundred kilograms of dead weight, including the heavier Derf size hatches.

The airlocks were entirely adequate. They were simply one or two Derf in a squeeze, instead of four-man locks. The flight deck had eight control consoles. Two on each side were ripped out and replaced with a single Derf seat and controls.

The pressure cabin and hatch around each weapon mount was simply cut away and the Derf or men crewing it would wear pressure suits. That offset the weight added by the hatches and balancing mass. Many of the controls and stations being inaccessible to Derf wasn't a problem. In engineering spaces and environmental in particular, because Derfhome Humans as well as a few Fargone mercenaries, were happy to man the controls and work the systems.

They jumped the Cincinnati to a system that had no regular Human presence. The mining that had occurred there ended at least temporarily when cheaper sources were discovered. They found a few small asteroids, chunks of floating rock and tried the ship's beam weapons. They were impressive. They left one iron-nickel asteroid a molten oscillating blob, glowing yellow hot. Their astrogator calculated it would need three years to cool to where it was not detectable anywhere in the system. They hoped nobody would chance on it and figure out what they had been doing here.

The magazine carried three-hundred-forty small short-range defensive missiles, twelve anti-ship hyper-velocity missiles with x-ray laser warheads, maneuvering and electronic countermeasure capable, and forty-eight general-purpose long-range nuclear missiles with heat shields.

Gordon decided they would fire one of the forty-eight to test their understanding and to train the crew. Once they were shot they were irreplaceable. Fargone would probably pay big money for a sample to reverse engineer, but reproducing them in any quantity would be hugely expensive.

"It has a variable warhead," the number one missile launch port chief informed Gordon. "Do you want ten megatons, two-hundred megatons, or something in-between?"

"Crank it up and give us a full power demo," Gordon ordered. "I'll have us stand off twenty thousand kilometers. We're going to pass by that gas giant and we'll plant it on one of the small moons head-on, against its orbital motion."

The launch was unmistakable. The whole ship lurched from the ejected mass. "Good burn. Dropping booster. No maneuvering," The missile tech reported as data came in.

They watched the tiny spark race away. Everyone in the ship who could, was watching a screen intently. "Terminal evasive maneuvers and dropped three decoys just like it was set."

Suddenly the screen blacked out in overload. It took almost five seconds for the fireball to cool enough the camera could show it again. The moon was shattered, thousands of glowing fragments scattering.

About two-thirds of it went to the gas giant side, still fragmenting and trailing pieces after it as it eased away. The other third had oddly acquired a spin and was expanding throwing pieces everywhere. Everyone was stunned. It had been an egg shape almost six kilometers long.

"I guess it was mostly a bunch of loose rocks just barely stuck together," Gordon surmised. "Damn I hope it wasn't anything useful, somebody would have mined or anything. I feel bad for just smashing it now."

"But it’s good to see what we're shooting," his XO said quietly. "I hope we don't have to use any of them on people."

* * *

They eased the Cincinnati down on Derfhome's larger moon. A fracture in a crater ringwall gave them a view of the entire hemisphere of the planet facing them but sheltered them from over twenty degrees of observation above the horizontal to each side. A shuttle was sent with a crew of two, to sit on the smaller moon to give them better coverage. A work detail went outside and shoveled regolith on top of the hull for whatever small camouflage that afforded. And they waited.

Chapter 39

"No challenge?" Commander Atkins asked, as they assumed orbit over Derfhome. Harris at the com board looked up to make sure he was being addressed. Did Atkins really think he'd withhold a communication if someone was objecting to their presence? Perhaps he wanted a chatty response. Harris wasn't going to paint himself a fool to suck up to the idiot.

This was Harris' second mission with Atkins and he missed his previous commander. That fellow hadn't distracted the bridge crew with casual conversation while they worked. The old fellow had been all business, following the book strictly on no idle chatter at duty stations. As long as he performed his job he'd gotten good reviews.

Nothing he said in response to these inane invitations to banter had pleased Atkins. He invited response and then belittled you. He was starting to wonder why they carried a political officer, with their present commander acting more like one than the party man. He stifled a giggle at the thought of the captain purging the commissioner for laxity.

"No traffic at all, sir," Harris reported. "I've been in this system before. They generally don't have a great deal. The station won't hail us unless we ask to dock, or are on an obvious vector for them. I pinged the Cincinnati. If she is in-system they've figured out how to mute her 'friend or foe' transponder."

"Given we are in a declared state of war with Red Tree Clan you'd think someone would express interest in our intentions." Commander Atkins said. He didn't like being ignored. It afforded no opportunity to browbeat anyone.

"The Cincinnati was built with man-sized spaces and corridors," Atkins noted. "I doubt a Derf could squeeze through to the flight deck. If they could it is all man-sized controls and the crew informed us they dumped all the critical control and navigation files, as well as intelligence and diplomatic information. They would have to strip it to a shell and rebuild it to use. A two or three-year job I'd say."

"Yes, sir." Agreeing with Atkins was always safe. "I'm passive scanning as well as covering the normal com channels. If Red Tree doesn't have regular ship com and tries to call on satellite phone or commercial radio we will still hear it."

"Very good Mr. Harris, our auto-defense is active, please set the normal warning broadcast about approaching us."

"English only, sir?"

"That is standard," Atkins agreed. The tone of it just made Harris feel he'd stuck his foot in it again.

"Scan, highlight the Red Tree territory as we come over," Atkins ordered. "I'd like infrared and electronic emissions overlay. Do a deep sweep with penetrating radar, for tunnels and bunkers. Mark vehicles and significant machinery." That kind of deep active scan would be regarded as hostile by most folks.

"Yes, sir," Tyndale responded from the board next to Harris. A smaller ship would have had the boards combined, but the Deep Space Cruiser St. Louis could act as a task force command vessel and sat six officers at the bridge even in single mode.

Tyndale had a thought, and sent a query to Harris' board. It wasn't something he wanted to ask out loud."If the Cincinnati had a core dump," he asked. "does that mean her targeting and weapons software is gone too?"

"No," Harris replied. "Weapons controls are decentralized on each missile launcher and weapon emplacement. The ship coordinates them for auto-defense, to intercept incoming missiles and maneuver, but if central control is destroyed they can still fire even when the ship is immobile and the drive destroyed or lacking control. The ship could be cut in half and a surviving weapon fired manually if it has power."

"Thanks," Tyndale typed.

For this mission two of the second tier seats ran empty unless the political officer chose to sit in one instead of his usual jump seat on the rear bulkhead. The redundant officers split shifts and ran extra training. They also carried their own and two extra shuttles externally grappled, because their twin hangers held a hundred and forty-seven Special Forces troops, on three temporary decks bolted in each hanger.

"Marked Red Tree territory will come across the horizon in six-plus minutes," Tyndale advised. "This side of the mark is a clan neutral area, surrounding the coastal city of Fish Town. The watershed line of the mountains to the south marks one boundary. The northern border is over the horizon."

"Their main camp is not off to the north is it?" Atkins asked.

"No, sir. The keep is almost directly along our path and has permanent structures. It's not a camp in the sense of being temporary. We have an orbital scan of it from the original exploration survey for comparison. Sir, I'd note that there is no manned traffic at all in orbit. That is unusual given in-system mining and that some merchants avoid staying at station and running up docking fees."

Atkins gave an amused little snort. "Thank you, Mr. Tyndale," he said with a smirk. What the natives did was obviously beneath his attention.

There you go, thought Harris. He's looking down his nose at you too now.

The display showed an almost empty ocean sliding past under them, with a thin scattering of high altitude clouds. The coast with a very modest city was approaching. If it was an Earth city he'd have estimated a population under fifty thousand. There were a dozen light aircraft flying around the city and a variety of boats, but nothing big, like a bulk carrier you'd see on Earth. There were a few radar active, one at an airport and another was likely meteorological. Nothing was military-grade, shifting modes, or locking on to them.

It still made Tyndale nervous to be so low and slow. At some point, you gave up so much advantage by shedding speed or altitude, that you became vulnerable. Right now he felt like if they dropped another ten kilometers, a lucky native might bring them down with a well-thrown rock. He'd have preferred at least one fast tangential pass, well above orbital velocity. Apparently, Commander Atkins completely discounted any hostility to his ship their automated defense systems couldn't handle. Tyndale hoped he was right.

A yellow line was drawn across the land coming toward them, destroying any illusion it was a bare unfiltered image. It was well away from the coast into the foothills and defined a vast plateau set above the coastal plain. Frames of various colors and shapes started dotting the view, detailing buildings and emissions anomalies.

"Give me a zoomed-in view on the primary objective there," Atkins ordered.

The center third of the screen zoomed in on the scattering of dots surrounded by a golden circle. The details multiplied until the computer had to simplify the display to avoid overlapping.

"It's a damn castle!" one of the engineers exclaimed.

"And there is a satellite fortress off near the edge of the plateau," Tyndale noted, "but it appears to be abandoned." After he studied the screen a bit he added. "The whole place seems to be abandoned. I only have a couple of dozen readings large enough for natives. Those could be animals and quite a few of them are in the woods. The hill is a honeycomb of natural and manmade tunnels going out and down, well beyond instrument range."

"Not manmade," Atkins sniffed.

Oh shit. Harris kept a poker face to his commander's tiff, but he could see trouble coming. This guy has to be Humanist Party. He's going to be an ass about it even if they surrender.

"Call Major Zapinski to the bridge please," Atkins ordered the com tech.

* * *

"What the hell does he want now?" Zapinski rhetorically asked his First Sergeant. "The man could just call me and speak to me on my pad, instead of running me up to the bridge again."

"If I may volunteer, sir, I'd be happy to finish assembling your weapon while you hobnob with his Nibs."

Marion looked at the collection of parts spread on a down-draft tray and sighed. "OK, First. You are one of very few I’d allow to do this for me." He wiped his hands and headed forward, grinding his teeth. His relationship with Captain Atkins was poor and headed south by the hour. Right now all he wanted was to be off the man's ship. Once he hit dirt if there was any way to avoid coming back into this command he'd take it.

"Major Zapinski reporting, sir," he said, floating with one hand on edge of the bridge hatch. Captain Atkins looked at him like he was something distasteful and didn't invite him in.

"Major, are you capable of dropping when we make another orbital pass in," he glanced at the screen, "sixty-three minutes?"

"No, sir. We need close to that to dress and load the boats and we need to separate and assume a decent formation and start braking well before we are over the objective again. If we have to brake hard for a short powered descent, we won't have fuel again to attain orbit, even if we count on you maneuvering to pick us up. If I start the ball rolling right now we can drop on the second pass. Even then, you will have passed on and be over our horizon when we land. If you want to be overhead to maintain com and give us weapons support it will have to be four passes from now, to allow us to brake slowly and let you lap us," Zapinski suggested.

"Very well, Major. Load with the intent to drop behind our second pass from now. I've decided to retain a platoon and a shuttle onboard, for unseen contingencies," Atkins said, "so having to load only three shuttles and platoons should help your schedule considerably."

"Begging your pardon sir, we seem to have different orders. Could we compare notes on our orders if there is a conflict?" the Major requested.

"I neither want nor require your help to interpret my orders, Major. I am the master of this vessel and if I determine I need to retain personnel I shall do so," Atkins said.

"I'm sorry you feel that way Captain. You see my orders say "You shall proceed via transport provided by the USNA DSC - St Louis to Derfhome with the Special Space Forces Alpha Company and four Lightning class landing shuttles and secure the territory of the Derf tribe known as Red Tree." It says nothing about subjecting my Company to your command, or splitting my forces. I respectfully submit I would be in violation of my orders, to fail to take all my assigned resources to the objective, and utilize them." Zapinski took a deep breath and let it out. "So I must respectfully decline your order unless you show written orders you are to take command and direct the ground operation."

"Mr. Galloway, you are my XO, advise me," Atkins said without taking his unfriendly gaze off Zapinski.

"Sir, we are charged with transporting Alpha Company to this world and making it possible to drop on Red Tree territory. If they do not wish to disembark and conduct their operation, then I'd send a high-speed messenger drone and ask Space Command where they wish us to take them. Other support, or if they might board again, or remain aboard for further transport, was never addressed." That rather avoided addressing the issues either man had raised.

Captain Atkins considered that briefly. "Alternatively, Mr. Galloway, do you feel capable of assuming command of Able Company if I remove Major Zapinski?"

"I could do so, although never having commanded troops in ground operations, I don't consider myself best qualified to command the Company," Galloway hedged. He also doubted he'd escape alive if he went below and tried to tell the Marines he was their new commander. They might deliver his head back to the Captain in his helmet.

When the silence went on for an uncomfortably long time he worried those were to be his orders. He had to forestall that. "If those are your orders sir, I respectfully request you put them, with all the particulars, in writing and I shall carry them out to the best of my ability."

The other four on the bridge were so still all you could hear was the ventilation sighing. Someone's career had likely ended. At the very least Galloway would never ship out on this vessel again. Atkins processed this statement for so long Zapinski thought he might play back the log and see if he heard it correctly in every particular, but he didn't. Asking for written orders was the same as saying the person giving those orders was grossly in error. If those orders were written, one of the two men would certainly be relieved, possibly both.

"Very well Mr. Galloway, I shall take your advice and allow that Major Zapinski's experience is sufficient basis to grant his request," Atkins concluded.

Marion silently ground his teeth and refrained from saying it had not been a request. Galloway also wisely ignored the fact that wasn't precisely what he'd said.

"You’d best hurry if you going to make the second orbit Major," Atkins suggested and powered his chair around in what was obviously a dismissal, ignoring the worried looks of the bridge crew. Marion flipped end for end off his grip on the bridge hatch without offering any formalities to the captain’s back. As soon as he was far enough away for his voice not to carry, he started issuing orders through his com-pad. When he returned to his tiny cabin the ship’s political officer was standing by his hatch, with that smug look that portended trouble.

"We're dropping in two orbits, Olson. I don't have time for chitchat. What do you need?"

"Captain Atkins has assigned me to accompany you on your drop and act as his observer and generate a record of the operation since the ship will not be in continuous contact." He looked expectant, perhaps he was aware of the conflict on the bridge and expected some resistance to his inclusion.

"We load in an hour or less. Be at hold two and you can drop with the command group and stay tight with me dirt-side."

"Uh, do you have any equipment for me?" the P.O. suddenly thought to ask.

"It's a shirtsleeves environment at this season where we intend to drop. If you intend to record video or still pix bring your own gear. Whatever you need for field gear. I'd suggest you see what the ship has aboard as survival gear. I assume you have a weapons locker if you desire a sidearm? Best you get a move on because I intend to drop with or without you."

Marion brushed past into his cabin. With a little luck maybe the jerk would miss loading.

* * *

"Nice of them to broadcast that standoff warning," Thor, the Derf sitting the primary weapons board noted. "Without radar, getting their exact orbital elements would be much tougher if they weren't radiating themselves. And naming themselves tells us their class and capacity."

"The St. Louis is smaller than us," the XO commented. "Why didn't they send something as big or bigger, or send a couple of auxiliaries to escort it?"

"Contempt," Gordon surmised. "We are furry non-people and degenerate Humans who left the only place worth living. We could never fly this thing much less use it effectively in battle. Underestimate me please," he begged.

"What are your intentions as far as engaging him?" Thor asked.

"We will watch to see if he lands a force. That is what we expect. If so we have ground elements who will engage that force. If he does we are free to destroy the ship as a back up to the ground action, to prevent their retreat."

"And if they just bombard Red Tree from orbit?" Thor growled.

"Then we destroy them and send word to Luna via commercial drone," Gordon said. "We then proceed to the Solar Oort cloud and pick up the crew of the freighter Fly Over Country waiting there. They have been instructed to take on as much mass as they can find there and add some stealth shielding to the nose of the vessel. If they get a commercial signal from Luna, Fly Over Country will be sent on autopilot to impact Vancouver at about eight-hundredths C. The prize crew will wait in their shuttle for pickup. It is a short three-person crew and they have extra provisions."

"You can't get it any faster?" Thor asked.

"We ran the numbers. Believe me, that is sufficient. It is a freighter and it will have burned out all its fuel far out-system so it is just coasting. With a black nose cap that absorbs radar, it will likely be inside the orbit of the moon before they can see it. Light speed weapons may paint it, but if you break it up you have changed the essential mass and vector very little. The damage would probably be worse than just letting it bore on in."

"Aren't you going to rename her?" the XO asked.

"Let's wait and see. If a bomb has a name I'd rather it be their own."

* * *

The First Sergeant was standing beside the hatch, ready to seal it, his alert face displaying a subtly different look that said this was not a drill. Marion was the only item lacking to be drop ready. He checked his heads up and saw they had eight minutes leeway to drop time. That was a good loading, the last after the other three shuttles.

"Cork it and tell the pilot to drop at will, First." Marion tucked his head and eased carefully through the hatch, turning and backing into one of the two last vacant seats. The political officer was tucked in the third row, very visible because his uniform was different and he looked like a child seated between two troopers bulked out in combat armor and gear. So much for the hope he might fail to make boarding.

Marion's hands found the restraints on the seat frame by memory and fastened them across knees, waist, and chest, while the sounds of the hatch closing and locking rang through the compartment with a solemn finality. His hand found the indented switch and he felt the clamps secure his helmet in a very limited range of motion. He was barely done before he heard the helmet clamps for the First's helmet 'chunk' and his drop orders were given to the pilot on the command circuit.

After a short toot of the acceleration warning, they felt a few gentle tugs and then a long hard burn. There was muted chatter and numbers between the pilots as the other shuttles did likewise and then silence as they went back to no acceleration for a few minutes before they felt the atmosphere tugging at them. Marion felt that allowing the calm operational chatter to be broadcast helped calm most of the troopers' nerves. Truth was, if something went bad it was likely they'd be dead before they would hear anything about which to worry.

"If my readouts say I'm snoozing, wake me up a few minutes before we touch down, First. I want to see the overview as we approach and direct the placement of the other shuttles," Major Zapinski ordered.

"Certainly, sir," the First Sergeant replied like it was unremarkable to catch a nap on the down leg of a combat drop. Marion knew that too would bolster the courage of their handful of newbies more than any pep talk. They were likely straining not to piss down their leg. If they heard the 'Old Man' was taking a nap, why should they be worried?

He did relax, closing his eyes and keep his breathing easy and light, but sleep was not a real possibility. Instead, he was thinking about how their drop pattern left them without support from the St. Louis until it came over the horizon behind them approximately twenty-four minutes after they touched down. He'd have preferred to delay a few hours, shifting orbits so they would come back into contact with the cruiser a few minutes before they hit dirt. Ideally, they would assume a higher orbit also, so they loitered over the drop zone a little longer during those critical minutes.

Marion had not explored those possibilities, simply because it seemed impossible to have any quiet discussion with the Captain that did not degenerate into a nasty pissing contest. It seemed unlikely they would need orbit bombardment or beam weapon support, but it was nice to know it was available. At least if they had to abort the landing this configuration gave them a quicker rendezvous.

* * *

"There it is on the horizon sir," First's voice intruded.

Marion stretched and made a show of yawning. "Pilot, put us down in the open area in front of the main building. Shuttles two, three, and four, choose in that order an open area, at least 300 meters away from where our pilot is designating on the drop map. Pick an area that doesn't bunch you up with the previous commander's choice." He watched as glowing numerals appeared on his helmet display. The landing points were all picked in under a minute. That was good, nobody was waffling under stress.

The shuttle braked hard the last few seconds and then pressed them in the seats harder briefly as it compressed the landing jacks. The rebound was quick and suddenly it was silent.

"By the numbers boys," First bellowed. The first soldiers were up and staggering at the door before it fell open. The sound of boots on the metal ramp was loud. The first trooper to the bottom threw himself down with his weapon thrust forward. In less than a minute, half of them were in a defensive ring around the craft and every other trooper laid his weapon aside and started digging a shallow fighting position.

* * *

"OK, we had four shuttles separated doing a minimum fuel landing. Confirm Red Tree or close to it. They could have separated and the big ship maneuvered, to be in the sky to support them when they touched down, but didn't bother. His tactics are not impressing me," Thor said.

"Contempt," Gordon repeated without elaboration.

"How do you care to engage him, sir?" Thor sounded eager.

"Most ship to ship engagements the aggressor tries to engage the target from dead astern. The drive layout makes mounting adequate sensors difficult and of course if they are underway the drive masks any looking to the rear. From the front is engaging their full sensor suite and automated control systems. But ship to ship fighting so close to a planet? I'm not sure if there are any standard tactics.

"Do this. Fire a standard nuke at him when he comes back around, so it is cutting through enough atmosphere to be giving the heat-shield a workout as he comes from behind the planet. His systems will probably read it as a planetary system firing up at him. Have it set to detonate as soon as he fires anti-missile missiles at it. Fire one of the fancy laser head missiles so it will arrive about two seconds after the first one would if it got through. The flash and plasma cloud will cover the incoming hypervelocity missile from his sensors until it is right on top of him. That's my theory anyhow."

"And if that doesn't kill him what do you want to do?" Thor asked.

"If I fail you get a chance. How do you want to engage him, if he is slick enough to survive that? Gordon turned the question around.

"If he survives that he will probably have a good fix on our location. I'd expect him to accelerate around the backside and do a power dog-leg around the outside of the moon, in anticipation of us running to keep the planet between us," Thor answered.

"Counting on contempt again?" Gordon asked.

"Yes, he will assume we are cowardly and uncertain of our skills with the weapons. Just using two mixed missiles will seem tentative if it fails, no matter how close a thing it really is. He'd expect a barrage from inexperienced fighters," Thor said. "I want to lift and orbit the moon contrary to his motion and catch him coming across the horizon again at short range, but on the outside of this moon instead of the planet.

"If two won't kill him, I do plan to expend missiles lavishly in the three or four second window, before I am in beam range, and then engage him with beams right down to a near ram just barely missing his rear and crossing the T within a few kilometers where we can beam him right up the ass and engage him directly with defensive missiles at short range."

"Can you program the anti-missile missiles to engage a ship directly? Gordon asked.

"Yes, I made sure of that," Thor said.

"How aggressive will his response be in your engagement window? Gordon wondered.

"I have no idea, but we are bigger than him and even if he destroys us I don't think he will survive the throw weight we will have left in flight before he gets us. I do not intend to leave him able to bombard Red Tree at any cost."

"That is acceptable to risk us," Gordon admitted. "If we need to deplete ourselves deeply to take him, we would probably fall to the next force they send, because they will get serious and we'd be engaging multiple ships our own size or larger with escorts. If we survive but with our magazines near empty we'll withdraw. I'll set a course for Fargone and sell them samples of these weapons. That would hurt North America more in the long run."

***

"We have one native in sight." The pilot reported. "This is the sight feed off our starboard cannon turret." The image routed to Marion showed a single Derf seated to the side of the main building entry. He was dressed in elaborate enameled golden armor and had an incongruous 20mm assault rifle across his knees. The magnified image rippled briefly with heat shimmy as the wind shifted. The Derf propped the big gun in the corner of the alcove in which he was seated, stretched, and after a hearty scratch of his thighs, started an unhurried walk towards them. The helmet, breastplate, and round shield sparkled with engine turning, under translucent tangerine enamel. The bare metal fittings also displayed myriad points of light from elaborate engravings. The image was sharp enough to tell the Derf was old, his face speckled with gray.

"I believe that will be our official contact," Marion guessed. "First and Mr. Olsen, if you will attend me we shall see what's going on. Move sharply now, I want to meet him halfway, not wait for him to march up the ramp and rap on the port with that axe."

"Do you think he intends to surrender?" the political officer asked as they exited.

"Hmm, no white flag, and that ceremonial outfit says he's a high mucky-muck however their ranking works. I don't think he'd have that jumbo meat chopper stuck in his belt if he was coming out to surrender. What do you think First?"

"He'd have a committee to meet us and girls spreading rose petals, or the local equivalent, if it was surrender time. Look at the arrogant bastard. He left his gun behind and he's taking his sweet time like he's taking a walk in the park. I say he's going to tell us to get our shuttles the hell off his grass."

"You've got to be kidding," Olsen said, incredulous. "He has to know he's outmatched."

"I've seen guys like this," the First Sergeant told him. "I figure he already knows he's dead and he's here to make some point with us. Different folks have different ideas about honor and law. They may feel they can't surrender honorably unless there is at least a symbolic fight and this poor guy got picked to do the deed for them. That fancy armor is art, so this is theater of some sort. I'd bet this is all to make some point we don't have the culture to understand. I've seen stranger things just among Humans. Who knows how these folks think?" They walked the rest of the way in silence.

When they were about four meters apart the native came to an easy halt and Marion and his First Sergeant did likewise. The political officer was slow to catch on and stopped a full pace ahead of them. Glancing over his shoulders both ways he saw he looked like he was in charge and stepped back. After he did he thought better of it. It looked like he was retreating and his face flushed with embarrassment. Nobody said anything quickly, both sides looking the other over.

* * *

"One away," Thor announced calmly. "Hyper-velocity to follow. It will auto-launch in thirty-four seconds."

* * *

"Well, a Major of Terry Special Forces!" the Derf marveled in English. "I suppose I should be complimented they cared enough to send the very best." He was obviously studying the citations Marion had worn. "Five combat medals and three with V for valor and that star thing there – I don't believe they hand those out for keeping your boots glossy."

"You read our rank and emblems very well," Marion said and decided it wasn't worth commenting on William's excellent English. "If your enamel work tells a similar story, I'm afraid I haven't been taught to read it. I'm Major Marion Zapinski, Space Marines. This is my First Sergeant Charles Lee and Commissioner Olsen. What is your rank, sir?"

William raised a questioning eyebrow. "Commissioner? That sounds civilian, but he is wearing a uniform."

"A naval uniform," Marion explained. "He is a political officer, outside my command structure."

"Politicians," William snorted. "We wouldn't be standing here without them. Mine as well as yours," he added when Olsen bristled "What are your orders, sir?" William asked.

Marion hesitated just for a moment at the odd wording, considering if that was an invitation to issue orders, or an inquiry as to his instructions. The latter he thought, but he firmly intended to know with whom he was speaking first.

"Again, I can't read your rank if it is displayed. Do you speak for Red Tree?"

"My rank is in my name. I'm formally known as, The Great Champion of Red Tree Clan, Defender of the Treaty of Man and Guardian of the Traditions of Propriety, Hero of the Chain-Bound Lands, William. You may simply address me as William. I am also Champion by choice of Lee Anderson, who I know as the First daughter of the Third love son of the Four Hundred-Seventy Third First Mother of Red Tree, by the Hero of the Chain Bound Lands, Second line of the short-haired folk - Gordon - Lee Anderson, the little gal all this fuss is over. And yes, I am given authority by our Mothers to act for Red Tree in the matter of war between our clan and the United States of North America and any who ally with them. Again, what is your intent ,sir? You are standing on our land, armed for war."

"I am charged with occupying and pacifying the territory of Red Tree Clan," Marion explained. "After that, it is up to your civilian authorities to normalize relations with our civilian authorities."

"I suppose you would leave the likes of this to administer us?" William asked, dipping his head towards Olsen.

* * *

"Ground launch, antis away," Harris called out. Three bumps marked the rapid departure of three pairs of anti-missile missiles. "Got it!" The board turned red again and a bump marked another pair launching automatically. "New threat!" Harris announced. Then the primary beam of x-rays from the exploding H-bomb, only fifty kilometers off their nose, went down the long axis of the ship and turned it into an expanding cylinder of plasma.

* * *

"Mr. Olsen will be rejoining his ship, but there will be a diplomatic mission sent to Derfhome that will…"

Marion stopped speaking when an eye-searing double flash lit up the northeast sky silently. None of them were looking directly that way but it was still stunning. When they turned and looked the colors faded quickly from yellow down through red in a thin line above the horizon.

"Alas, I'm afraid Mr. Olsen doesn't have a ship to which he may return," William informed them.

* * *

"Telemetry indicates both weapons activated," Thor announced. Everybody waited for something more definitive. "Uh, the broadcast was terminated. I have no visual where expected. Captain, may I activate radar to check for debris or life-boats?"

"Yes," Gordon agreed.

"Nothing. Switching to sub-millimeter targeting radar." There was a pause while he read that too. "There is an expanding debris field of grit that appears to be condensed from metal-vapor. Our target appears to have been completely vaporized," Thor announced, a little shocked at the thoroughness of it.

* * *

Olsen, snarling, whipped his pistol up and squeezed off a round. William raised his shield mirroring Olsen's motion and the slug drew a gray dent across the shield spoiling an elaborate enamel panel. The First Sergeant smacked Olsen across the wrist with his own weapon, knocking his pistol to the ground. He turned angry mouth opening to protest to Marion, only to see the Major's pistol aimed between his eyes. The pistol cracked before he could utter anything and a dark hole appeared on his forehead. He collapsed on top of his pistol.

"Did I tell you to shoot you simple son of a bitch?" Marion asked the slumped corpse, prodding it with his boot. He turned back to William and sighed.

"Major, I suggest you try contacting your vessel for confirmation," William said. "You have no line of retreat and your position is untenable. I will take your surrender if you disarm your men and abandon your offensive equipment. I can provide guides to let you march to civilian transportation and you need not be prisoners of war even a single day. Otherwise, you die. I hold your life in my hand," he assured them, holding a true hand out in a fist.

"No sir, I intend to occupy this territory and hold it," Marion insisted, shaking his head. "We have supplies and sufficient support, including transport anywhere on the planet with our shuttles. If indeed that was our ship being destroyed we can hold here until relief comes. I do not believe you have forces sufficient to offer effective resistance. It is you who must surrender and mean it, or we will advance to secure these buildings and start sweeping the forests with patrols to find and destroy your forces if you do not surrender at once."

"I was afraid that was the tack you'd take," William said saddened. He rolled the true hand open, releasing the end button on a small black cylinder, a dead man's switch, displaying it to them on his palm. Immediately there was a deep thud of a big bore mortar in the distance behind him.

"Mortar up – auto engage!" the shuttle pilot shouted on their common com. The counter-battery tracked but didn't engage, because the round wasn't aimed toward any of their positions, it wouldn’t waste ammunition on a clean miss. There was a brief flare as the round got a rocket boost to push it higher. After a pause, another flash in the sky directly overhead dwarfed the light of their ship's destruction. There was a sudden sensation of prickly heat that flashed clear through their bodies rather than on their faces.

* * *

"Nuclear detonation!" Thor cried out. "Low altitude, moderate yield. It has an odd signature," he said puzzled. "Are they nuking Red Tree?"

"No, that was one of ours," Gordon said sadly. "We will proceed to the Fly Over Country and relieve the crew, but leave it in place," Gordon told him. "I'll explain…"

* * *

"Oh shit, oh shit," the shuttle pilot said on com. Marion could see the blocky outline of William in tones of blotchy gray. "Radiation-enhanced weapon," another voice said on the circuit. "It's way too big a dose and then some. We're dead." the voice added and started to softly cry. Then there was the bone-rattling boom of a shock wave from far overhead.

"You nuked us," the First Sergeant said in wonder. "Where in the hell did you buy a neutron bomb?" he asked and then answered it himself – "Fargone. It had to be Fargone. Should I shoot him, sir?"

"Why, so he can die comfortably while we puke our guts out?" Marion asked. "I don't think so. You win this round warrior. I hope your people can live with pissing off the entire USNA nation."

"We counted that cost already when we declared war," William pointed out.

Behind them, the pilot detonated the self destruct charges in their shuttle. The quiet flare of white-hot thermite in the nose marked the destruction of the sensitive electronic and com gear in the flight cabin. It was so bright even Marion's flash shocked eyes caught the glare from behind. They turned and squinted and there was a series of pops like a string of firecrackers and the airframe folded in on itself and fell in a heap of scrap metal. Flames sprang up immediately from the remaining fuel. The second half of their platoon was still inside, but the pilot decided their fate for them. Maybe he thought it a favor. None of the other three shuttle crews took it for a hint to join him. The heat was so intense he had to turn his face away.

"How long do we have, William?" Marion asked with surprising calm.

"Oh, somewhere around fifteen minutes max from what I was told. It may be another five to seven minutes before you feel anything. I have a bottle sitting inside on the table if you gentlemen would like a drink. Can you see well enough to walk over?"

"Yes, I think I'd like that. Mr. Lee, do you want to accompany us?

"I'd appreciate being relieved of further duty sir; I'd like to record a few words to my family."

"Very well First, Thank you for your service."

"And you sir, it was damned good until now, goodbye sir."

William turned away and Marion hurried to catch up. They were near the door when they heard the pistol crack behind them. The First apparently was a man of few words.

"I'm afraid I'll need a hand in here," Marion complained at the entry, "my eyes can't handle the dark yet."

"Yes, I cheated a bit and closed mine tight expecting the flash," William explained, taking his hand. "Right in front of you now, like a picnic table," he explained, lowering his hand to feel the seat edge.

"Damn thing is high enough," he said feeling the chest-high table edge.

"Here," William said pushing the glass into his hand. "Earth whiskey, Maker's Mark," he said. There was a gurgle and the raw smell of bourbon. Outside there was the distant pop of weapons as others decided to take the less painful death.

"I've got a headache," Marion said. "I suppose that's how it starts."

"Me too," William agreed. "Not that I can complain."

Marion started to drink and hesitated. "Do Derf do toasts?" he asked.

"Not really, but I know the custom. Feel free."

"To peace," he said raising his glass and took a long pull on it.

"I'll drink to that," William agreed.

"My hands are shaking; bet I don't have time to get drunk."

"Well, we don't have to worry about a hangover," William agreed.

"Would you have used the nuke if you didn't manage to destroy our ship?" Marion asked.

"I wasn't supposed to, because the Mothers figured you'd wipe out the Hold from orbit. We were supposed to go to a guerrilla type engagement if your ship escaped, but I was going to use it anyway," William admitted. "The Mothers would have been pissed at me."

Marion laughed and drank, they didn't say any more. He was barely aware of it when the crash of armor and shattering glass announced William toppled to the floor. He was unaware of his own fall.

* * *

The Cincinnati was accelerating for jump. Thor was sitting his board, but it was shut down safe. He was never the less scowling at it like it was still feeding him a live battle.

"Is it bothering you to kill a ship and crew," Gordon asked him gently. "Do you need help to deal with it? Perhaps a medical intervention, to ease the raw shock at the moment?"

"You killed the St. Louis," Thor assured him, surprised at the question. "I just punched in the numbers for your tactics. What I'm sitting chewing on is, I'll never know if my solution would have bagged him as well. He'd have been warned and would we have survived?"

"You may have other opportunities to test your mettle," Gordon assured him.

Thor nodded his understanding, an acquired Human gesture. "You know what? This ship is ours now. It needs a new name and we need some music on the flight deck. The silence gets to me sometimes. What should she be called?"

Chapter 40

"Primary is leaving the home with her guardian on the free bus," Justine reported to Jesus. Justine was in the woods in a no-see-um blind, with a very expensive telescope, an attached small camera, and an encrypted radio to call their command center. The no-see-um name did not refer to the camouflaged exterior. It meant the fine mesh screen kept out the tiny biting flies, as well as mosquitoes and larger black flies common to Northern Michigan in this season.

Jesus had been pulled from another assignment and Diana brought back off recovery leave because they knew Lee. They had four other agents helping them watch her and a report was passed daily to Stanley McPherson.

"I'm up anyway. I'll follow her into Marquette," Jesus replied. "Maintain surveillance and log all comings and goings for the household, just as if the principal was present," Jesus ordered.

Jesus waited until the free bus went by. It had that tooth grating whine of electric vehicles. He let it get 400 meters down the road before he pulled out in the old pickup truck he'd bought locally. There was a well-used wheelbarrow upside down in the bed, a pair of scuffed safety cones, some bags of mulch, a couple of twenty-liter buckets, and a shovel and push broom.

Earl and Lee got out in front of a medical building, but when the bus drove away they crossed the street and went in a small shop with cast iron patio furniture out front. The sign said Sander's Confectionary. There were parking spots so Jesus parked and reported in. He couldn't see inside the shop because the windows were tinted. He put on a ball cap and wraparound sunglasses and went in. Earl and Lee were with a family at a table. The waitress was tucking an order pad in her apron and leaving, so they'd be here awhile. The narrow store had mirrors to the ceiling on both sides behind the ice cream freezers and behind the tables. He ordered a cone at the counter and studied them in the mirror. There was a rear exit, so time to call in help and get that covered. He took his cone, told the girl, "Keep the change," and walked out.

"Are you ok?" Earl asked Lee a second time before she heard him. She was looking after the man. "Yeah, that guy really sounded like somebody I knew."

"Somebody to worry about?" Earl asked concerned.

"No, he worked for us once. But if it was him he'd have stopped and said hi. We got along and parted on good terms. I guess with so many people, like you have here, you must see people that look alike now and then," Lee decided.

"You do," Earl agreed. "My wife will point out somebody in a store and ask me if they don't look like so-and-so." But you said it was how he sounded, he remembered. He watched and marked that it was an older blue pickup in which the man left.

* * *

The man's name was John Williamson, his wife Jan looked nervous and their girl Clare was excited. She rarely got to go to the city and it was a treat.

Earl and he chatted about seemingly trivial things. What the heck was a Menominee? Everybody had a small sundae and Earl got up and shook John's hand. "See you here Thursday," he said. Why didn't John just pick her up at their house? Wouldn't the free bus guy notice she didn't ride home with Earl? Lee decided to figure it out herself, instead of opening her mouth and proving her ignorance. Earl told her the trip would cost twelve hundred dollars and she could pay John half in the City so he could spend it there.

"You don't have a bag," John said, but it was definitely a question.

"I'd guess Earl didn't want to advertise I was leaving," Lee guessed. "We just moved and everybody warned us the old bat across the court is the neighborhood watchdog. If you even walk down to check the mailbox, you see her drapes pulled back to snoop. They said she calls the police or the housing authority at least once a week."

"Thank God, we don't have one of those on our block," John said heartfelt.

That would be rough on your business, Lee thought. "I'll buy some clothes while we are in the City," Lee told him. "I understand you know where to go shopping for stuff."

"Most things. Earl told me you want to visit a bank or mall ATMs where you can get some cash. He said you have the good sense not to flash it around. He also said not to be surprised if you visited some high-end places. Did he mention to you we'd like paid half while we are down south?" John asked.

"Yes, that's no problem," Lee assured him. "I'd like your girl to help me shop too. I have no idea what is in style and what looks stupid. Would you have any objection?"

"Me? Not at all. Ask Clare herself though," he invited, nodding toward her.

Lee just looked at her. She figured no need to repeat herself.

"I'd be happy to, in exchange for you buying me a few pieces too," she qualified it.

"Of course," Lee agreed. She didn't resent paying for the help, but it amused her how very much like the father the daughter was already. Her dad used to have some phrase about that and she couldn't remember it. Something about nuts… Lee held out her hand. Clare looked at it funny, not knowing what she intended.

"She wants you to shake hands on the deal," John explained. "Oh," Clare said, surprised and took Lee's hand awkwardly and shook it. "Nobody ever did that with me."

"Men-folk still do that amongst themselves," John confided, "but women hardly ever shake hands anymore. With city-folk, we don't much trust it means anything if they do," he added.

* * *

"Principal got in a full-sized older sedan with a family. They are leaving town headed east toward Newberry. I'm following, but traffic is light outside town and I lose sight of them on occasion on dips and curves. Advise the license number is NYP-7331. If I lose them I suggest you have a spotter positioned to cover the crossings at Sault St. Marie and the Mackinac Bridge."

* * *

The Ambassador for the Lunar Republic, Eric Lannis, stretched a hand out and deposited a small box on the desk. It was white glossy paper over cardboard like you'd use for a gift. It made a metallic tinkle. The interim Secretary for Interstellar Affairs looked at it suspiciously like it might be a bomb.

"It's been vetted to load on an interstellar fast drone, allowed into my own office and past security to get in your building. It's nothing that is going to bite you, Al."

That may be, but he had a feeling it wasn't good news either. The Honorable Ambassador had lost family in the rebellion of the Lunar Republic. He despised Earth, hated Earthies and he looked entirely too comfortable delivering it. Al also didn't appreciate being addressed by his given name and he really resented the implication he was afraid of it – because he was.

"You've seen the contents?" Al asked.

"No, I delivered an open cardboard box, that probably cost four ounces Au to send from Derfhome to the bottom of this stinking high-g hell-hole, and never looked in it, because it only said 'care of the Lunar Republic' so it is obviously none of my business. Do you really think I'd get within a hundred meters of it without scanning it six different ways and having a flunky empty it out first? If they'd sealed it up we'd have broken the seal remotely anyway and they knew it."

He reached across exasperated and dumped the contents on the desk since the Secretary seemed frozen.

It was dog tags. A lot of them on a thin cable and a few photos and a letter in a plain white envelope.

Two hundred and fourteen tags, some with readable chips, some partially melted, and a few more scraps of tags.

The letter listed all the known dead and referenced the photo as the reason some were missing. Remains of weapons and other objects indicated there were troops still inside the shuttle that self-destructed. There wasn't much of the shuttle left in the photo. It was a low mound of blackened metal covering about the area of a tennis court. A few large pieces that were likely engine parts and landing struts poked up waist-high.

Another photo showed a Major of Space Marines laying on his back, with his legs still up on the seat of what looked like an enormous picnic table. On the opposite side was a huge male Derf in gaudy armor sprawled on the floor too. Bizarrely there was a glass in the major's hand and an open bottle of Maker's Mark Bourbon on the table. They were in what looked like a rustic hunting lodge. The Major was identified on the photo as was the Derf. Our only casualty was noted after his name.

"Their only casualty?" Al Plantus asked. "What did he do? Die of alcohol poisoning?"

"The tags are mildly radioactive," Lannis explained. "The level and isotopic ratios, indicate they were exposed to an intense burst of high energy neutrons. Your men were killed with an enhanced radiation nuclear weapon."

"Where would Derf get nukes? Did they get past all the safeguards and steal them from an explorer ship?"

"I have it on some good authority, that converting explorer weapons to a specialized sort like this, is harder than just making them from scratch. We know of four off-Earth Human nations that can produce them. Fargone is the only one aggressively marketing weapons, so they are the most likely source." He carefully didn't mention the Lunar Republic was one of the four.

The secretary was rattled by that revelation. They had suspected as much but never had proof before. But four? That was very bad news. If he was to be believed. He turned back to the letter. Other than the list of dead, it was brief.

"Do not send more forces to the Derf system or we shall kill them also. The St. Louis is also lost to you. Given the nature of space battles, there was no recoverable artifact to prove this.

"Derf do not 'play' at war. If you do not renounce your course and affirm the Treaty of Man or treat for a new one we will continue to wage war. We understand in your earlier history your nation demanded unconditional surrenders. To explain our different culture know this. In our earlier history, we have never asked a surrender. Clans fought until one passed from existence and neither thought to ask or offer surrender. You also have kidnapped our clan kin known to you as Lee Anderson. You shall return her. This is a separate violation of the Treaty of Man. You may communicate any response through the Lunar ambassador."

There was a note explaining the seal affixed was the legal mark of the three Mothers of Red Tree clan, similar to a Japanese hanko.

"Handed you your ass, didn't they?" the Lunarian asked. He refrained from saying again.

* * *

The National Security staff looked at the pile of dog tags in front of the President. The Secretary of Defense was livid. "We need custody of that girl right now," he growled. "This has to be answered."

And how do those two connect in his mind? The President wondered. He wasn't sure the Secretary of Defense was entirely rational right now. He feared the girl might come to harm if the man had custody of her in his state of mind. And wouldn't that be a mess? "That is a job for the FBI," the President reproved him mildly. "See Justice moves on it, right now," he said with a nod to his National Security Advisor.

"The girl did not kill our Space Marines," the President gently reminded them. "I do not want to hear of her being mistreated. I do however need a response plan. I'll expect a presentation of our options in twenty-four hours. And we need our forces to poke around out there. See if there is more hostility than just this one tribe." The way he said 'tribe' made you think of grass skirts and spears…not nukes.

* * *

"The First Bunch of Idiots got the nod from the Boss to find the girl and grab her," the Secretary of Defense informed his deputy. "Of course if any of our assets know her location they should hold her for safekeeping so we can turn her over to the Bureau," he said with an unblinking deadpan stare. He didn't have to spell it out.

"Yes, sir. That wouldn't look bad at all if we were the fustest with the mostest, would it, sir?" He left the room moving briskly.

* * *

The world was known as Balance in English. The crew that discovered it was Chinese, so Gordon assumed it was named in Chinese, but the Claims Commission would list it in the English translation. Why it was named that was not listed in the navigational data. It was a water world, but without much free oxygen in the atmosphere. A variety of plankton and algae had been dropped in both freshwater lakes and sheltered ocean bays. On land bamboo, oat grass, prickly pear, kudzu, and various short grasses had been placed where it was hoped they would take hold. Nobody was surprised that crabgrass flourished.

The terraformers however were embarrassed, when besides their carefully planned progression to create a biosphere, one of the miners in the domed company town had strewn a kilo of ordinary prairie flower mix outside the domes in an area, with no systematic preparation and it now had a firm grip on the soil three kilometers all around and twelve kilometers downwind. The experts insisted it would die out in a season or two, but the damn stuff continued to defy them. In the twenty years since they started seeding, the free oxygen in the atmosphere was already up .00001 percent.

The reason for a large commercial presence on Balance was its mineral wealth. There were very rich deposits of beryllium, mercury, silver, and gold. When the air grew sweet and the population increased to need it, there was copper, iron, nickel, and rare earths present. Aluminum was already being mined because the indium content was unusually high. The indium was worth shipping, but the aluminum was not, so it was stacked as ground-car-sized ingots on a dry plain.

Everything locally was made of aluminum, because it was basically free. Even the roads were extruded sections of textured aluminum decking with drain channels and a sheltered cable niche along each side built in. They locked end to end and had leveling jacks.

There were two freighters in orbit. Balance had no space station or moon, but it had a medium-sized asteroid it had captured. The first miners determined it would decay out of orbit and impact the world in about ten thousand years. It was the work of three years and about two percent of its mass, to boost it into a slightly higher and more circular orbit. It was good for fifty thousand years now if they didn't boost it again. It was a convenient place to spot communications and a depot to accumulate metal from the world below, instead of maintaining the means to lift a large amount in a short period of time. The freighters were mast docked to the rock.

The system also had two thin asteroid belts, in which a half dozen mining ships gathered scarce metals, which they also brought to the asteroid. One look at the moonlet told Gordon why it was named the Pear. The mast where the ships docked was the stem. It now even had a dimple on the opposite big end, where mass had been removed to feed the ion drives that altered its orbit.

"This is the Nation of Red Tree Privateer Retribution," Gordon spoke over the radio. "The freighter Allentown is ordered to stand down from any maneuvering and prepare to be boarded. We intend to take your ship as our prize. We will harm no one if we are not met with force. You are forbidden to transmit on other than this band until we give you leave. If we detect transmissions, we will remove your external antennas with beam weapons," he warned.

"Retribution, this is Loadmaster Pearl Barlow," The screen filled with a very anxious young black woman with intricately braided hair, spotted with silver beads, "we have a two-person watch crew aboard. Our Engineer Second Class and myself. Our Master and Navigator are both down-world, so we are not contemplating moving. We are in loading and have civilian personnel in our holds and around the ship. Please be aware we intend no resistance, but it will take us a few moments to let the dock rats know there is an, uh, situation. If they see a bunch of armed men they may panic and do something stupid. Other than that what are your orders, sir? I didn't know there were any pirates in space and I'm not about to be the one to argue with them. I'm just a wage slave employee, not a share-owner or company man."

"Privateer," Gordon explained patiently. He suspected he was going to get tired of telling people the difference. "Pirates are outlaws working for themselves. Privateers are acting for a government on the basis of Letters. The clan of Red Tree has declared war on the United States of North America and our Mothers have issued me Letters of Marque to take USNA shipping. As for your loading, the Pear personnel should not even be aware anything is happening. We certainly won't bother any dock workers. We sent three Humans, not Derf, to your lock right now. They only have sidearms and will look at the holds from inside but do nothing to interfere with the dock crew.

"You will be given every courtesy and transportation to the planet. If you have personal items please pack your ship duffel and take them with you. We will not steal personal valuables or personal weapons. Your people down planet can recover their things under escort too. Or ask you to retrieve them. We will allow you to communicate with your superiors down-world, once we feel the ship is secured. Do you have any questions?"

"No, I think you better talk to the other freighter. He's on my side screen and I have him muted, but he looks like he is going to pop a vein pretty soon. Can I talk to him without getting my antennas blown off?"

"Let's do a three-way, dear. I'm splitting my screen," Gordon told her.

"-do you think you are doing?" screamed a pointy-nosed man with oily looking hair.

His eyes flicked back and forth between the suddenly split screen. "You were transmitting in the clear. I recorded it and intend to present the file to the authorities!" he waited, lips drawn thin, for a response to this threat.

"I bet you said, 'I'm going to tell!' a lot as a child didn't you?" Gordon asked, propping his chin on his hand. This was going to take more time than he cared for he could tell.

"This is the City of Lights, a fine vessel of the French State and European nation." He informed Gordon, ignoring the personal jab. "We will not surrender her to you under any conditions," he warned.

"You got yourself all worked up for nothing Frenchie. We have no Letters for your nation. We never intended to bother you unless you are incredibly stupid and declare yourselves allies of the Americans and thrust yourselves into an argument that doesn't concern you. If there is nothing else we can just happily ignore each other. Do you want to say goodbye or do you want to keep talking until you say something stupid enough to really irk me?"

"I see," the Frenchman said, surprised. "May I ask you to communicate by tight beam laser? I'd like to ask a question privately."

Gordon could see one of his boarders on the bridge of the American vessel already. "No need," he told the Frenchman. "Bart," he told the fellow in a full armor p-suit. "Turn the ship to ship off for about five minutes and then get back to me. The right half of the screen blacked out and the French fellow went full screen. "Now, what's the question?"

"We are in queue to be loaded after the Allentown. You allow the American to continue loading. Do you intend to seize the stockpiles on The Pear also? There is certainly no reason for us to stay if our cargo is going to be gone."

"Balance is a Chinese affiliated company world, not even a colony. I am authorized to seize nothing in this system. I can seize an American ship and anything aboard her. If she wants to let them finish filling her holds with more booty off the Pear, why ever would I suggest she stop?" Gordon asked, with faked puzzlement.

The French merchanter looked astonished, then broke down in laughter, beating the edge of his console with his palm and shaking his head in wonder. "I most certainly don't approve of what you are doing," he said when he gained control again, "it will certainly make our profession much riskier. But I will say nothing to the American, if for no other reason than it will give me a story to tell at every bar until I retire. She is going to be so chagrinned when she figures out what she did." He was still chuckling when he broke the connection.

"It would appear habit is a more powerful force than I ever realized," Gordon told his crew, "Ms. Barlow was left behind to see to the loading and she is going to by the gods continue to do her job, until somebody orders her otherwise."

"I fear Lloyd's may not be so amused," his XO said.

"No, no, there are exclusions," their com man with commercial experience told them. "Lloyd's has been around long enough acts of war and piracy are excluded, no matter how they choose to classify our actions."

The flight deck of the Allentown came back on the video link. "Bart, did you by any chance inquire yet what they are here to pick up?" Gordon asked.

"Yes, several tons of indium, a great deal of mercury in individual casks instead of bulk, a good bit of erbium and oddly enough, an impressive quantity of emeralds in the rough. Those are not on the official manifest, but she confessed what they were when I started opening the unmarked crate."

"That isn't listed on the web as an export," Gordon said surprised.

"The emeralds are from the beryllium miners," the Loadmaster informed Gordon around his man's shoulder. "They gave up trying to stop the miners from grabbing the really nice specimens when they would see them in the ore. It became a safety issue because they would do crazy things, take chances to recover them when it was forbidden, like getting off the digger while it is still running. A few got sucked into the crusher. Now they ignore it, as long as an operator doesn't stop digging more than once or twice a shift to grab a crystal."

"Why doesn't the company exploit them?" his XO asked.

"They claim the loss in beryllium ore production costs more than they can recover from the stones. When they tried doing it commercially the stones almost all seemed to be of inferior quality," she said, coyly pressing a finger to the side of her nose in the British manner.

"A few ships like us buy them cash and this world has very little turn over despite being a hardship post. It's a little 'perk' that makes working here worthwhile. Even the administrators get in on it. They use the stones like a local currency. I was to go down on leave in three watches and I usually have enough cash to buy a few. But nothing like the ship buys and I don't have a ship share. That's what our officers have been doing below; they set up a buying room at the hotel and people bring stones."

"Well, I can see our crew shares are going to be very rich from this," Gordon said.

"Crew gets a share of the loot?" The Engineer, silent before, was suddenly interested. "Do you by any chance need an Engineer Second Class? I'm Indonesian and I speak Bahasa, English, and French and can work environmental and galley as well," he offered hopefully.

* * *

Special Agent Harrigan Hershey stood at the records counter of the Family Assistance offices, in the Juvenile Court. There was an imposingly large woman behind it, with deep green frizzy hair worn in the helmet of a natural Afro, to match her piercing eyes. That was doubly shocking because she appeared to be a white woman. Pasty white even. She was leaning forward aggressively on her elbows and was still taller than him.

The tattoo of a multi-colored snake curled around her muscular forearm. He followed it down with his eyes until it terminated in an open fanged mouth on the back of her hand just behind her knuckles. A banner arch of fancy letters under its chin read – VIPER. He was jolted again. She had man hands. He'd been in LA for almost two years and there was still too much Iowa clinging to him.

"Ms. Gomez," he nodded politely, reading her name tag. "I have a national security letter requiring your agency to provide us with the name of the family and location to which the young woman named Lee Anderson was fostered by judge Morse," Hersey informed her. He laid the letter out on the countertop with his FBI badge wallet folded open as a paperweight.

"Thas nice, honey, but this here is records for a California court, not Federal. I give you anything without the orders of the judge on the case and I just flushed my job down the toilet. Do I look that stupid to you?" she asked critically.

"No ma'am," Hershey said truthfully. Scary as hell and tougher than my boss, he thought, but those green eyes were shrewd as could be. "Could you direct me to the court, please?"

"Judge Morse doesn't sit on Wednesdays," she informed him. "I'll write down his address for you, if you want to go bother him at home," Gomez said, scribbling already, "but he may just tell you to get an appointment through his clerk. I'll tell you the same as those wanting him to sign a warrant – the earlier you get over there, the more of a chance you stand," she looked over her shoulder to check the clock, profiling her Adam's apple for him, "before he gets too deep in the bottle," she said illustrating it with a glass tipping pantomime. "And if you take him a bottle he drinks Ardmore, not any cheap crap."

"Thank you," Hershey said, taking the sticky note she peeled off the pad. Was she really intimating they should take a bottle of liquor to a judge? He didn't even know what Ardmore was. He'd try the easy route first, but if the judge didn't cooperate, he'd be back here this afternoon with about twenty agents and a computer expert. He called his driver to stop orbiting the block and pick them up at the entry.

* * *

They went south over the Mackinac bridge. "This used to be open when I was a boy," John told her. "Just a railing on the edge and you could see the Straights pretty good. But over the years a few small cars blew off in really terrible weather and there were a few wrecks when trucks tipped over on their side. I remember when it was very stormy, my dad driving across behind a state lead vehicle going at just a crawl. Now the new highway safety standards require an enclosure. You can't see out for anything." The enclosure was a heavy wire mesh that barely left any holes. Tight enough to eliminate most of the wind. And barely allowing any illumination either. "They had a few jumpers and it stopped that too."

"Jumpers?" Lee asked.

"Folks who had trouble or mentally ill, suicides. It's several hundred feet to the water. You might as well be hitting concrete from this high up," John said.

Lee felt queasy thinking about that and didn't ask any more.

On the south side of the bridge an officer waved them to the side behind several other vehicles. The car angled across the shoulder said Michigan State Police. "Open your trunk please," he told John. The please didn't disguise the fact from Lee it wasn't optional. Lee watched out the back window, through the crack at the bottom of the raised trunk lid. John was relaxed and joking instead of angry. She watched him hand the policeman a small flat bottle of honey, which he slid in a pocket. If he was supposed to take it, he wouldn't have hidden it so smoothly, Lee figured out.

John got off at the next exit and drove west until they reached a narrow two-lane road. It just had a county number designation. He turned south again on that. The car appeared to have no navigation and he didn't look at a map. He seemed to just know the roads.

"He extorted some of your honey from you didn't he?" Lee asked.

"Oh my, extortion is such an ugly word for a young girl to know. He took a little extra bridge toll. I offered it, he didn't ask for it. They’ve got you there, because there is no other way across the Straights. But that's why I'm off on a secondary road now. Every county and village all the way down south patrols their section of highway that goes through them. They look for anything they can ticket, or take in forfeiture. By the time I got down to my mom's house I wouldn't have a blessed bottle left," John said.

After they drove another hour or so he cut back to the highway. They bought sandwiches and used the restrooms where they were clustered around an exit. But when they left he returned to the county roads.

Chapter 41

When the Retribution returned to Derfhome they jumped short and coasted into the system silently. They had arranged for a signal to be broadcast at regular intervals that seemed innocent, but was a warning if there was a USNA presence in the system. If the message indicated it was a force bigger than they could fight, they would run almost straight through the system and jump for Thorn. The Allentown was manned by a short prize crew, loitering in an uninhabited system with only a number, not a name, waiting for their return, lurking among the moons and rings of a gas giant. Likely it would go to Fargone to sell at least some of the cargo and have certain extras installed an honest freighter didn't need.

Stanley sent a long message, that explained the ethics of his profession kept him from being involved in a technically illegal act, like snatching Lee and removing her from court-ordered custody. However, he vowed to continue to pursue every legal action to free her. He explained Blackwater was again hired to watch over Lee and report to him. And repeated he'd requested they give whatever protection was possible.

The obvious conclusion was he would have to suggest a snatch to Blackwater himself. Stanley wasn't going to pass that instruction on. He'd wasted several weeks, unaware of the ethical limitation. Gordon prepared a fast drone message to Blackwater, telling them what he had in mind and suggesting strongly Stanley would not want to know if they did so, He should be totally insulated from having anything to do with it for his professional protection.

The Mothers declared his capture valid sight unseen, based on documents, and were delighted with the probable clan share of the Allentown. Then they surprised him by instructing him to sell the cargo in Fargone and use their cargo shares to buy out the crew shares on the ship itself. That was within their rights as their sponsor.

Their share of the emeralds they kept however as Derf particularly valued them. The clan was now an interstellar trade house with a ship. The Allentown became Red Metal.

Gordon was given the first pick for the Captain's share of the emeralds. He planned to have an earring made that would leave spacers with their mouths hanging open.

* * *

It was late in the day when they finally got to John's mother's house. It was in a quiet older part of Lapeer, maybe a third of the way into the greater city. There were more trees than she expected. She assumed they were to stay with relatives because they couldn't afford a hotel, but after his mother was so pleased to see them she wasn't sure they didn't just want to visit, rather than from necessity.

Mrs. Williamson was fatter than any person she'd seen up close. She was padded around the middle where her waist should have been. She also hugged Lee in greeting just like she did her granddaughter. Before she was done everybody got hugged.

The house was full of the smell of food, but strange unfamiliar food and they hadn't eaten since midday. Lee was relieved when they were invited to the table. The places were already set and Mrs. Williamson carried in Chicken Paprikash, little firm egg dumplings, green beans, hot rolls, butter and relishes. She stuffed herself which seemed to please the cook. Lee had never had anything on the table but green beans and these were better than any green beans she'd ever had. They were bright green, firm, lightly oiled, and had tiny slivers of nuts on them.

Dessert was an apple cake, full of spice and coffee. Mrs. Williamson asked if she'd rather tea with it, but Lee made clear she loved coffee. Clare displayed the tip of her tongue through tight lips, to show what she thought of coffee.

After dinner everyone helped bring in the honey, transferring them to shopping bags and leaving the wooden case in the trunk. They were in all sizes and shapes of bottles, all clear glass and none more than about a liter. Apparently, Mrs. Williamson oversaw the local distribution.

Lee washed her socks and underpants in the sink before going to bed, squeezed them dry, and folded them in her bath towel, before pressing them thoroughly under her heels. They would be dry by morning. Mrs. Williamson never offered her a given name and seemed fine with being addressed full form, so she decided it was smarter to not ask if that was usual. It must be and she'd just look silly to ask.

* * *

The Retribution dumped back into Survey System 2517. It had no named inner planets, but the huge dominating gas giant was named 'Goliath'. It would be an ideal fuel mining planet, but there wasn't anything else yet found in the star system to need a fueling station. The Red Metal was by Goliath on the far side of their entry, so they didn't bleed off any speed, wanting a quick transit near the star and would brake going away from it on the other side. Once they skimmed the fringes of the star there was the distinct signature of a Human vessel coming around the star from the other side, searching aggressively with radar. They seemed to be doing a tight transit almost at right angles. The Retribution sighted it before it saw the Red Metal or them.

"Wow, Noisy!" Thor marveled. "They are kicking the bushes hoping to flush something. How long before they paint us with that radar?"

"They are a bit over three light minutes out," Navigation responded, but we are within two degrees of the stellar disk from their view and not radiating. This is a noisy star. We may get within a light minute before they see us."

"How great a vector angle can we generate before they would see the side scatter from our drive?" Gordon asked.

"They'd see us at any power from our entire rear hemisphere if we brake," Engineering assured him. "Even aimed off fifty degrees."

"No, I mean, how far off can we tilt our drive from full-astern before they see us?" Gordon explained further.

"Oh! Accelerating towards them?" The engineer keyed queries into the computer rapidly. "If you have no more than a thirty-eight-degree bias from his line of sight, he should never see our drive scatter against the star at two-g. That gives us a lateral acceleration back in front of the stellar disk of point six-g and a closing acceleration toward him of about one point one-five at this distance. He's running to jump, so add his closing acceleration which will help us get back in front of the star." He keyed in some more numbers. "We would cross back over in front of the face of the star in a bit over twenty minutes. Then we reverse the thrust angle at the thirty-minute mark to track his forward vector and his motion keeps us in front of the disk. We can up acceleration then if you wish. Theoretical time to literal intercept is at two-g, twelve hours."

"Make it so," Gordon ordered. "I can see he's military, but what is he?" Gordon asked.

"Radar emissions indicate a Raytheon high powered multi-focusing lensed array. Those systems can form four Gigajoule pulses under a microsecond in length. It takes a long charge up to do that of course. USNA, European, and Australian Confederation ships all use variations. But on nothing bigger than a destroyer. Our system is about twenty times as big because we have more hull to mount elements and we have the second reactor to feed 'em."

"So, we outgun him again. I'm getting spoiled. We're going to eventually run into a big assed heavy battle platform and have to run you know," Gordon predicted.

"I'll take the practice and be grateful for it until that happens," Thor said. "We didn't stand and slug it out with the St. Louis either, so let's use our heads again. But I'd love to capture another warship instead of blowing it to plasma."

"Ask third watch crew to relieve us in fifteen minutes. We will take a six-hour break to have a meal, nap if any are able, and come back refreshed to make contact," Gordon ordered. "Any brilliant ideas on how to take this ship will be entertained. We are crossing each other with too much velocity to turn and match him before he could run to jump. If I hear any suggestion worth using that hand will get a double share of any prize."

* * *

Mrs. Williamson was pleased when she offered to help with breakfast. Lee knew how to scramble eggs. She had just never seen eggs in the shell. Well, not chicken eggs. She got the hang of breaking them after three or four. She whisked them and Mrs. Williamson instructed her to add some water. "It makes them fluffier, dear." Lee stopped with her hand on the valve lever and asked her, "Is this potable water?"

"Yes, Lee, you can assume tap water is safe in any big city in the USNA."

"I'm fostered to my cousin. I was starting to think nobody cooked from scratch."

"They're on the dole aren't they, dear?" Mrs. Williamson asked, but not disapprovingly.

"The negative tax, yeah. They just reheat stuff," Lee said.

"The government subsidizes food for the negatives," her hostess explained. "They could buy groceries off the card but it would be market price and they'd be hard pressed to make ends meet that way. Do you recall if they have a regular oven?" she said, pointing to hers.

"No, they have two microwaves and a two-burner electric range in the countertop. They don't have many pots or other kitchen things either," Lee hadn't thought on that before.

"If negative income people have too many options or cash, it's far too easy for them to buy black market goods and bypass the government controlled systems," Mrs. Williamson explained. "Whenever you see something that doesn't make sense otherwise, you can figure control is probably the real answer."

"Thank you, Earth is strange," Lee admitted.

"John hasn't discussed where you are from, Lee. If it isn't something I should know be cautious dear. I could tell you weren't from Michigan."

The eggs were OK, but Mrs. Williamson's biscuits were outstanding.

* * *

Office of Naval Intelligence was what the ID said. They all four had a badge too, but more importantly, they all had guns, so the condo tower doorman sent them up to the sixteenth floor to see the judge. He had a Taser and a permit to have it on the job site, but he didn't argue with folks carrying real guns.

Judge Morse wasn't as impressed with the badges or the guns. The team leader said they needed information on a custody case. "That would be neither a military nor a Federal matter," he informed them. He said Federal like it was a bad taste in his mouth. Morse looked much thinner and frailer than he had even as recently as Lee's trial. The damn cancer was killing him and the pills didn't do shit for the pain anymore. He was about to pour himself a breakfast nip to help the pills and he didn't appreciate being delayed.

He tried to slam the door in their faces, but the lead officer blocked it with his foot and put his shoulder to it. Morse was astonished at the audacity of the offense to his office and person when the leader pushed inside and took a much more aggressive grip on his drawn weapon.

"You look one thing up for us on your computer and we'll be gone. Nobody has to ever know. This won't have happened as far as we are concerned. Lead on," he ordered, gesturing with the muzzle of his weapon.

The judge took them to a tasteful study, with an antique desk backed up to big windows. He went around and seated himself, logging on the computer.

"What's so all-fired important you need to know?" Morse asked.

"The girl, Lee Anderson, you fostered out. Who was she sent to and what is the address?"

"That's sealed juvenile information. The Family agency is where you want to go for that."

"You held the hearing and I know damn well you didn't send her off not knowing where she was going. Call the file up," the man insisted.

Morse did, but still resisted. "Here it is. Eric Holt, 12674 – 110th Ave. NW, Sarasota, Florida 34230," he repeated from memory the address of his deceased great uncle.

"Let me see," the team leader said, coming around the desk.

"I'll print it for you," Morse offered, punching two keys. That closed the file and shut the computer down. He reached in the top drawer like he was getting a printout, but his hand came out with a small black pistol.

"Gun!" he warned his team and slapped his visor down. It would stop small pistol fire easily. "Put the gun down or we will fire," he warned. His men had their weapons aimed at the old man's head. "That toy won't get through to anything vital and all you'll do is piss me off if you shoot me in the foot," he warned.

Morse just laughed at the fool. He'd almost done this last night when it hurt so bad and then he'd put it back in the drawer. Let these goons sweat to explain how it wasn't their fault. He stuck the gun in his mouth and fired without hesitation. The window behind him had a starred hole blown through it at the report and a nasty pink halo.

"Shit!" He froze shocked, then thought a moment, dumped the judge out of the chair, and sat down. He turned the computer back on, retrieved his helmet cam recording, and watched the judge key in his password.

* * *

The first watch returned to the Retribution's flight deck. Few had actually slept, except a few who forced themselves to electronically. Most had enjoyed a light meal and walked around, anticipating a long time in their seats. They switched off crews with little conversation.

"Any ideas you armchair strategists want to run by me or Thor? Speak up now, before our tango there wakes up and sees us," Gordon invited everyone.

Thor waited a moment to let others speak and looked around. "Gordon, my number one missile gunner had a point I think was valid. You might keep it in mind."

Gordon nodded at him to go ahead.

"We are going to pass each other no matter what fire we exchange. The question then becomes, can we render him unable to run to jump without destroying him? If we damage him bad enough to fail jump, we probably don't have a prize anyway." Thor looked around again inviting comment but there was none.

"So how could we get him to stay in system and surrender without damage? My gunner said he has been reading the manuals, trying to know everything about the missile systems he could. If you have a defective missile that won't launch you have a system to eject it from the launch tubes, to clear it for loading the next missile. He suggested ordering the vessel cut all acceleration and to eject all their missiles immediately as duds, or face destruction."

"That sounds good," Gordon agreed, "except if they comply and might dump all or most of their missiles, and then when we are crossed out of range to attack still make a run for it and go home with empty magazines before we can double back."

"That was my first thought too. But add this idea of mine," Thor said. "What if we demand he dump his missiles and launch all lifeboats, or we will destroy him? You can't launch a lifeboat except from inside one. Most hold four to six. Their commander's not going to run home with empty magazines and at least a quarter of his crew abandoned to privateers. If he did his own crew might stuff him out the lock in his shorts. If they didn't he'd never have another command again anyway when he took that tale home to a board of inquiry."

"I like it. It beats the heck out of just blowing him away. No profit in that. A double share to both of you if we can pull this off," Gordon promised.

* * *

They went to a fancy big mall in Troy. There were three different banks. Two with machines in the lobby and one with a machine outside their front door on the mall. John told Lee to use the one on the mall first, while it was early and uncrowded. He still stood beside her back to the wall, guarding her as she used the teller. All three machines had a ten-thousand-dollar limit. That must be standard to keep the machine from being cleaned out. She got twenty-five thousand dollar bills and the rest in hundreds from the three. Gordon had made sure their cards had no daily limit. She wasn't sure if another machine for the same bank would disperse to her today, or if she'd need to find a new bank.

It was a nice mall, so she wanted to get two or three changes of clothing too. Clare showed a little more enthusiasm. She wasn't given to big displays of emotion, Lee noted. There was a woman's shop with clothing displayed in the windows. A slim middle-aged woman in pants and matching belted tunic, stood in the door to greet customers.

"Does your store have styles and sizes for somebody of my age and build?" Lee asked the woman. The woman looked them over and her face said she dismissed them.

"We do," she said seeming to hesitate to say more. It was supposed to intimidate.

"I don't have time for bespoke," she told the woman. "If you have a body scanner and can auto-tailor two or three outfits for me. I have time for that today."

The woman's expression changed subtly. "Please follow me," she requested and slunk away. She put her feet one in front of the other like she was walking a rail and her buttocks were tight like she had on high heels instead of flats. Lee wondered just what could be the purpose of such an obvious affectation?

* * *

The Retribution was under a light minute from the unsuspecting ship. "Stand ready to fire close in anti-missile missiles manually," Gordon wished he had the battle management software that the crew had trashed. "Ready conventional nukes in three launchers and one ship to ship and go to tracking condition for manual release, but safe,"

"Thor, we want to hail him loudly. Show him me and McKenzie on a split-screen, so he sees both Human and Derf. If he doesn't answer in light lag plus thirty seconds, ping him hard with the radar in targeting mode, so he knows what he is playing with. Not hard enough to do damage but enough he knows we are bigger. If he doesn't acknowledge the hail and ping, we will tell him to identify himself or be fired upon."

"Unknown ship, identify yourself. You are in a sensitive area. This is the Nation of Red Tree Privateer Retribution, repeat – identify yourself."

They waited, Thor thoughtfully put a counter on the main screen. There was silence as a hundred and forty seconds ran out. Thor pinged him.

"I'm pinging him tight, just short of what should burn his antennas off. I think forty percent of power at this range will do it. That would scare the crap outta me," Thor advised. The counter on the ping lag was already up to 22 seconds when he finished speaking,

The screen opened to a surprisingly young officer on a cramped bridge.

"Retribution, this is the USNA Destroyer Twelve Palms, on a – holy shit what just painted us?" The video showed multi-colored confetti and then blacked out. "Well get it back up, the audio continued. "What do you mean right out of the star? How the hell would anything get under us here? Well, evacuate the compartment until damage control can get the fire out and clear the air. Who frigging ordered you to dump the Halon, Howell?"

"Oops, maybe twenty percent would have been better," Thor said embarrassed.

"Well open the cable gallery to vacuum," said the voice on the radio. "It can't be the busses, if they lost superconductivity we'd be fried, it's just the antenna leads. Calm down and think people. God that stinks. Somebody manually drop the masks."

"No, somehow I think this works just fine," Gordon said, smiling.

"Twelve Palms, you are ordered to stand to and cease acceleration. The nation of Red Tree is in a state of war with the USNA. You will surrender or be destroyed. You will eject your unfired missiles and all lifeboats and start decelerating to come back and rendezvous with us. You will then be allowed to recover your lifeboats and we will put a prize crew aboard." They waited as that message raced away. The radio continued to paint a picture of chaos.

"Or what?" the voice asked suspiciously. "Just a second. You there, Erickson, don't open that panel. Yes, I can see the paint is blistering. What makes you think I want to share the compartment with what is on the other side causing that? You were saying?"

"Well I was going to nuke the crap out of you with a full spread," Gordon said cheerfully. "We're a heavy cruiser by the way. But given the effect a ping had at forty percent power, I think I'll just run the power up full and hold it on you long enough to cycle through the full frequency range if you don't stand to. What do you think that would do?" he asked. They waited…

"Cutting drive," he said angrily. "It will take a minute because I have to send a runner to Engineering. The miserable com is not working that far back either. You, Erickson, put on a p-suit and go tell Chief Adams to cut the drive. Then I'll start jettisoning."

"What did your ping show by the way?" Gordon asked Thor.

"No, I don't want you to come back here. Go man a friggin' lifeboat," the speaker said. "Don't launch until it is full," he felt necessary to order him.

"I could cut that," Thor offered.

"We might need to talk," Gordon said. "Besides it is sort of entertaining. I think he is muting his mic and doesn't know it's not working. It was probably surge damaged too. It keeps them honest. For some reason, it's more amusing without the video. In fact, we have to keep a copy of this transmission. Poor Erickson must be a total screw-up."

Thor shrugged, "It's a destroyer all right, Santa Fe class, less than two T-years old. A hundred-twenty-two-meters long. Likely worth eight to ten billion dollars USNA. And it has a light shuttle grappled on its back too. That class doesn't have internal bays for landing craft, just scooters, but the shuttle will be carried with locks matched."

"Very good Olson," the radio squawked, "get all the lifeboats manned. Those with untenable duty stations first, then idle hands like the galley. Might as well have them safe and out of the way of damage control. Dear me, the political officer seems to be locked in his cabin. Please have two Marines stationed outside his door, in case he is smart enough to cut the bulkhead open and power up the hatch. Or you can have a damage party weld his damn hatch shut if they are handy to it."

"I hope we have a lot of wire somewhere on these ships," Roger on Systems said. "If worse comes to worst though, I think we are big enough to grapple the whole ship and jump with it somewhere for repairs because it looks like we burned the crap out of her."

"Retribution, I officially strike my colors and am complying as quickly as possible. I have damage and may need aid recovering the lifeboats. I am instructing them to assemble in close formation to aid recovery. I'll eject the missiles immediately after and self-destruct them to remove them somewhat as a hazard to navigation."

"Negative Twelve Palms, we will have a tender to recover the missiles," Gordon said.

There was an extra-long pause. "Roger that, they will be ejected inert."

"I don't think he liked hearing we have a tender in-system," Gordon mused. "They were here to find dispersed Derf or Fargone assets and never saw us or anything else. I'm betting he's wondering what else he didn't see here since Goliath would be a great fuel mine."

"How is Red Metal going to recover the missiles when their holds are full?" Thor asked.

"I may not have to use them as a tender. Wait and see how the recovery goes. Could be we can just load them back up after we have it secured. No need to make Red Metal empty their holds until we know," Gordon decided.

Chapter 42

"FBI?"The door security man looked at their ID. "I had Naval Intelligence come back down through the lobby not five minutes ago. Is there something big going down in town?"

"To see the judge? They still up there?" Special Agent Harrigan Hershey asked.

"To see the judge, yeah. Was only up there fifteen or twenty minutes and they hauled out of here in a big black off-road."

"How do you know they were Naval Intelligence?" Hershey asked.

"They stopped and showed me ID, just like you are. I wouldn't know Naval ID from my barbershop discount card, but then I don't really know that is the real deal either," he said, pointing to their open ID. "I mean, I got a bunch of guys with guns, do you think I'm going to say you can't go up? If I do that to you right now, will you tell me you aren't going up and leave? I don't think so."

"Yeah, I hear you. We're going up, it's true," Hershey told him.

The sixteenth floor was quiet. There were six condos and the judge's door was closed. He knocked and got no answer, drew his weapon, and used it to pound on the door. Nothing. He checked just to be sure. It was locked.

"You think you can kick this in?" he asked his driver. He was a beefy big guy. "I hate to go down and get a breaching round and it's a discharge report."

"It sounded pretty solid like a fire door. Maybe not kick it in but I think I can bust it."

"Give it a go," Hershey encouraged him.

The hall was generously wide. He checked to see his pockets on the left were empty, braced against the opposite wall, and did a three-step sprint to the door. He hit it with knees bent and pushed against it with his legs. It didn't bust.

"I'll go get the twelve gauge and breaching rounds."

"I felt it move, hang on."

He hit it again and the door was visibly pushed in. It was tilted and the frame holding it was pushed back in the wall a couple of centimeters.

He went back stretched and shrugged his shoulders. When he hit it this time the entire door frame ripped out of the steel stud wall and went flat on the floor. He went down with it and slid until the carpet stopped him. They searched it hot.

When they got to the study Morse was on his front on the carpet. They looked at the ruined back of his head, the window, and the gaping hole in his computer where the memory module was ripped out.

"Yes, this looks like military intelligence," Harrigan agreed.

* * *

Damage control was able to keep the environmental systems functional. They continued restoring function to the destroyer, but grappled it and kept internal power on while the Retribution carried it. They split the crew about half on each ship with the flight crew safely removed to the cruiser and physically unfastened the power leads to its two beam weapons to remove temptation.

Commander Hart kept his word on surrender. However, the political officer not only tried to dump the computers, but assaulted the technician working there, trying to transfer a copy of the battle management software over to the Retribution. The man was in sickbay with head injuries and might lose an eye. They had no facilities to regenerate one and we would have to take him to a modern world for treatment if he lost it.

"What am I to do with you?" Gordon asked the political officer. "Your Captain surrendered, of which you were well aware, yet you attacked an unarmed tech." His own Captain and XO were seated for the mast, as were Gordon's second and third officers and two crew for security.

"My Captain is a traitor. I did not give my surrender and I won't," the PO said.

There was no reaction at all from the North American officers.

"You realize your ship was pretty much helpless? Your radar was out and you had spotty internal communications. You were in no shape to defend yourselves and we could have destroyed your ship easily? Would it in any way have been moral, for him to throw all your lives away in an empty gesture?" Gordon reasoned with him.

"If we'd tried, we might at least have damaged your vessel. As it is we accomplished nothing. Better to self-destruct than giving you the ship as a prize."

"Your crewmen might not appreciate having their lives held in so little regard, Mr...." Gordon stopped and checked the papers in front of him for the name, Joe Buckley. He got squinty-eyed and examined him again. Wavy black hair, heavy five o'clock shadow, medium height..."Do you have an older brother, or cousin named Jerry?"

The man twitched very definitely, but he straightened and repeated: "I'm Joe Buckley, Lieutenant USNA Space Navy, Service number 299424993."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I heard that already," Gordon said. "Well, apparently you don't feel your Captain can surrender for you, and has a duty to die no matter how pointlessly. Since you don't accept his surrender, I have to ask you for yours individually. You are familiar with the concept of parole?"

"I have a duty to escape," Joe replied.

"Where? There is no realistic hope of escape. You damn near killed my crewman and didn't come any closer to escaping. It's not relevant," Gordon said, frustrated.

"The very best escape would be one that involved killing you all. If I die too, that is my duty, no more or less."

Gordon looked at him. He was glaring at Gordon with hatred. The man was a fanatic.

"My judgment is this man is too dangerous to have aboard. He will not give his parole and he is a danger to our crew and his own, who he regards as traitors. It will take more resources than we can afford to hold him in guarded isolation and provide his meals and medical care under stringent security arrangements. Even then, there is risk.

"Mr. Newman, take the prisoner to the smallest personnel lock and give him the escape he desires. If he requests it he may kneel in the lock and be shot in the back of the head to avoid any discomfort. Do not pump the lock-down, we are not cruel, over-ride and flush it at full pressure," Gordon instructed.

"I'm sorry to do that," he told the USNA officers as Joe was led away. "I may be charged as a war criminal for it someday, but I could not have slept again in the same hull with him, knowing that mind would be plotting every waking moment to kill us all – both crews – given any opportunity."

The XO spoke when his commander didn't. "I believe you are within the laws of war sir, given he broke his surrender. It was an unearned accommodation, to give him another chance to give his personal parole, but foolish. It scared me clear through when you did that, because he would not have honored it. I can assure you if you had surrendered, he'd have hung the lot of you."

* * *

"Naval Intelligence offed the judge?" his boss asked.

"I would not presume to say that," Hershey hedged. "Circumstantially it looks very bad. We were on the scene about ten minutes after the time of death. It looked like a suicide. He had a nine-millimeter pistol in his hand. He was dead of a gunshot wound from his mouth through the brain stem and out the rear of the head. There was a corresponding hole in the window with an aura of organic material. The doorman sent four armed men up who claimed to be Naval intelligence with ID. Do you think the judge suddenly decided to blow his brains out coincidental to their visit? False suicide is a standard intelligence operation tactic. He was sitting at his computer when he died and the memory module was removed when we arrived. Who else would have taken it?"

"Why would they kill him if he gave up the girl?"

"So he couldn't give her up to us too. I need some high-level pressure to get the girl's location from the Family agency. I was down there this morning already and they don't intimidate worth a damn, believe me. These ONIs or whoever have a head start now and I'm not sure the girl might not end up like the judge if they get to her first," Hershey warned. "I'll tell you straight, you can get this done, or you can spare feelings over jurisdiction, but not both. Not in the time frame we have now."

"A double team will meet you at the records office again and you will leave with the information if they have to face dunk the clerk’s face in the toilet until he talks. Go now."

"Thank you, sir."

* * *

"Where the hell is Balance?" the President asked.

"In the general direction of Derfhome," the Interstellar Secretary said with a wave of his hand like it was somewhere out over the Pacific, "but what matters more is it is six days and three jumps from there. On the other hand, it is about twelve days and six jumps from Earth. A bit more for a full freighter, a bit less for a fast courier."

"So it's a Chinese interest world?" the President asked confused.

"Yes, but they didn't bother any local interests, or a French ship at dock right beside ours. They very strictly followed their Letters of Marque and were gracious about the crew's private possessions and liberty."

"I'd say it impinges upon their interests to have their customers robbed at their door. I wouldn't go back to a store where I bought something and was robbed leaving and the storekeeper just shrugged and said, 'What can you do?'" The President said.

"Yes, yes I can see the analogy. But there are other considerations," the Secretary explained, "it is different between sovereign nations. If they interfere as allies, Red Tree will make war on them. They'd likely issue Letters for their shipping also."

"If everybody was gunning for them they'd be out of business pretty quickly!"

"The truth is Mr. President, space is big and ships are expensive. Nobody has a big enough navy to protect their shipping. They would go broke trying. The last hundred years of prosperity have been because we agreed with the Claims commission treaties to not prey on each other's finds and shipping. Everybody else is worried sick we are bringing that era to a close, with the first interstellar war and reverting will mean a general economic collapse. Nobody wants to open up their shipping to the same hazards and loss."

"So how much did they nick us for?" the President asked.

"The ship was worth perhaps four hundred million, being older. The cargo was less than a billion, but that is just immediate expense. The real cost is that shippers will avoid American flagged vessels. The risk will also drive up insurance. Even if no claims get paid for this loss, they will have legal expenses and risk a court that in some jurisdictions will disallow their exclusions.

"The price of indium will go up. They got about six months production from Balance, but the reason they mine it there is it is the cheapest source. So other deposits will be tapped that cost more to work. The erbium is worse. It puts a short term crimp on the supply that is essential for optics and will drive the price up. Almost every commodity sold will go up, because delivery just became less certain across the board. People will seek the safety of multiple sources even if it reduces their margins. The economy suffers.

"Nobody wants to consider what happens if it goes beyond ships," The Secretary added. "What happens when they announce there is a blockade of an American interest world – say, Thorn – cutting off all the biologicals we are accustomed to receiving?"

"They wouldn't dare!"

"Mr. President, I don't think these people would drop a continent killing rock on us. They have displayed better morals than that. But my family is in Florida because I am not at all certain they may not wipe out Vancouver in a decapitation attack. I care and want to serve badly enough to stay here, when it may be a target, but I have no doubt at all they dare a great deal." He mentally started planning to join his family, because bellowing that they wouldn't dare, was all bluster and no brains. His efforts were all pointless if he was working for a fool.

* * *

"We followed them all the way down the peninsula on back roads," Jesus told his manager. "We have a drone parked on a neighbors roof, watching the back and a truck down the street. Property records say it is his mom's. She's widowed, has a police pension from her husband, and some of her own money, so she gets tax credits but not the full negative package."

"You said she is visiting ATMs?"

"All over the place. If Lee is taking the limit she has over $300K cash. She bought a few clothes, but as far as I can tell she hasn't used much of it."

"I wonder what she intends to do with that much money?" His boss asked.

"If it was mine I'd take out a contract on that son of a bitch judge," Jesus said.

"Waste of funds. Somebody blew his brains out this morning," His boss said.

Jesus was actually shocked into silence briefly. "For real?"

"Yes, I had a watch and clipping service on him, because he was tied so closely to our principal in a very public way."

"Does it have anything to do with her?" Jesus asked, worried.

" I've got three people trying to find out right now. I'll tell you when I know."

* * *

"The Destroyer Twelve Palms failed to rendezvous with the Destroyer Phoenix in the Paradise system," the captain of his flagship told Admiral Benson. "They sent a fast drone here because we are towards Earth anyway and leave it to us if we wish to dispatch one home."

"No, Mr. Edwards, I believe we shall wait here as planned. We should have all our search parties back in three days, assuming no more of them go missing and we will backtrack the star systems assigned to the Twelve Palms. We were re-tasked to determine if there is any organized hostility to us. We have sufficient forces. I doubt there is anyone out there who wishes to test themselves against a Deep Space Battle Platform and five escorts. Send the drone back and tell the Phoenix to act like she is leaving Paradise, but jump short and observe any traffic in stealth mode. We will all join her in four to five days."

* * *

"Jesus, I have word from California. It looks bad. Word is, a team of operators claiming to be ONI visited judge Morse in his condo. They left with his computer memory and he conveniently ate his gun," his supervisor Ted Pineda informed him.

"Crap… they know where, uh, she was fostered." He almost broke operational security and said her name. They assumed their com might be broken any time.

"Almost certainly," Pineda agreed, "and the FBI showed up ten minutes later."

"Maybe they killed the old boy and blamed it on the ONI," Jesus suggested to Ted.

"Someone with an evil mind might think so, but they also returned to the records office of the court and questioned a few people so forcibly they required transport to the hospital."

"Ah, so what they wanted was gone at the judge's and they had to scramble to get it elsewhere," Jesus said.

"Yes, but alas, that means we have two armed paramilitary teams wanting custody, or worse, of our principal. This does not please me. Now in addition to this, I have a hot interstellar drone message on my screen informing me her father wishes more than legal action and protection. Gordon would like a snatch and exfiltration, should opportunity present," Ted said.

"This is getting complicated. It's bad to not have a single objective," Jesus said.

"I agree. And we are getting into territory Blackwater can't be connected with. That's why I have to let you go, Jesus," Ted said with exaggerated theatrical sadness.

"You mean you no longer require my services?" Jesus inquired, shocked, not catching the fact the man was putting on a show for him.

"I'm afraid so. I have a courier on his way to recover your company ID and com. Your other team members will be contacted in about ten minutes. I do however have a friend, who runs a fine small security company called Michigan Associates. It was formed," he checked his com, "about twenty minutes ago and needs personnel desperately. If you'd be interested in working for him you will get a twenty percent hike in base rate and your retirement fund will be paid out to your Ceres account with a fifty percent bonus. Is that of any interest to you?"

"It certainly is," Jesus replied, getting it now and relieved, calculating quickly how much of a boost that would give his bottom line, "And my team is getting the same offer?"

"Similar, not as sweet on the retirement, but no need to foster discontent by leaking it," Ted urged. "If any decline to accept the new employment we'll fill in your gaps. We are also sending four operators from the paramilitary subsidiary to your command. Chris French, Wendi Bragg, Arnold Ledbetter, and John Fanuken."

Jesus was relieved to hear he was still the lead, that had been his next question. He kept expecting this operation to expand until Dixon was brought back in but it hadn't happened.

"You are aware of our principal's funding, long term they have more assets than many sovereigns for whom we have worked. If it should be necessary to oppose government agencies you might have to be extracted and returning to the USNA or even Earth might become impossible. Count that cost too," his supervisor urged.

"We didn't want them to come down in the first place," Jesus reminded him. "We never foresaw this particular trouble, but the whole place is turning into such a shit hole we worried something could happen. My team has all been grumbling for the last year or two that it is time to head out to the colonies and leave Earth before it becomes impossible to leave," he confided.

"Very well. The courier will have your new employment ID and fresh com. What is happening with our charge?" Ted inquired.

"They stopped gathering funds and returned to the relative's house. He had what looked like a load of honey in the trunk on the trip down. Apparently, he is a black-marketer and a bit of a smuggler. The last few stops he made, he loaded up a bunch of groceries and a carton of something we could not identify, but was very light from how he handled it. He's smart enough to use his mom's car for local shopping. If they load their shopping bags in his trunk in the morning I expect they will be returning to Ishpeming," Jesus predicted.

"Stay on her and we will try to arrange an extraction. I don't think she can lift from the USNA, but we'll see where else would work to get her off Earth," Ted said.

* * *

"Why did you buy that food in cases and then put it all in grocery sacks with the loose stuff to carry it in the trunk?" Lee asked John. It didn't make sense.

"Remember the cop who got a free jar of honey?"

"Yes, of course," Lee said. It made a huge impression on her.

"Well, if I have three or four cases of food in the trunk and a crooked cop stops me he may take a whole case to leave me alone. A case looks like trade goods. But you divide it up in shopping bags and put a few more odds and ends on top of it to make it look like normal shopping, they won't take it. Robbing somebody of their personal groceries just goes over the line and even the bad ones feel that is low-down and cheap," John said.

"Amazing." Lee sat and wondered how that might apply to other things, like wearing flashy jewelry as costume… She went back to hug Mrs. Williamson goodbye.

* * *

"Very good," the Blackwater Special Services supervisor beamed at his compact operational team. "Thank you for accepting. I think you will find this duty under Michigan Associates very profitable. This is an important client and all the stops are pulled out. We'll provide air support and anything you need to protect the principal. I've worked with Jesus in the past and he is steady and smart and decisive. I think you will be impressed with him. He has never been a rent-a-cop weenie."

"If it is that critical can we draw equipment beyond personal weapons, or does that have to come from the new company?" team leader Wendi Bragg asked.

"You may draw anything in my control," Ted assured her.

"In that case, you have a big shipment ready to go out to Pakistan. I'd like to open a few cases and you can delay it until you bring the order back up to snuff."

"Help yourself and it will get transferred to MA," Ted promised.

"Good, I want one of the Israeli 12mm heavy machine guns, two 40mm grenade launchers, a four-pack of claymores, and an Iris DRMB Electronic Warfare Pack, with the scanner and jammer. And I'd like two black window vans with Postal Inspector markings. Nobody wants to mess around with the postal inspectors. Not even the other Feds." It didn't seem to bother Wendi that she was messing with them to borrow their insignia.

* * *

The Phoenix drifted silently with their reactor barely running, maintaining environmental and little else. They were grappled at the rear to a rocky asteroid that was dumbbell-shaped. It was only about three times their length and had almost no rotation and that easily corrected. They had a two-hundred-thirty-degree view of the system.

Paradise was a colony world. The name was perhaps an exaggeration. It was nowhere near as pleasant a world as Providence. It was dryer, with very salty oceans and continents with very dry interiors. But it also had a remarkably simple ecology of very extreme forms, for both desert and high salinity water. It had enough commerce to warrant a space station and once you have a space station mining is practical in almost any system, for local consumption if not export.

Phoenix listened to the chatter of all the small mining ships with Paradise Station and three down planet towns. While they watched one European freighter went out system, bound for Thorn via two jumps. A group of biologists from the University of Bologna on board, kept up a constant chatter with their colleagues they left on Paradise, almost to jump.

Another vessel came in on a vector that indicated a Fargone origin. It hailed the station and announced an intention to go directly to a mining complex in the outer system, far around from the Phoenix radially.

It had to be either an empty freighter or military by the delta-V it was expending. It named itself the Arch of Heaven and declared a Fargone flag, but was not in their database. That didn't sound particularly martial, but who knows? The Phoenix's captain, Charles Allen, would have loved to paint it with some radar and see its size.

Another ship entered from the contrary direction to the Fargone vessel and hailed the station as the Red Metal. They announced a fast transit and did not slow, just adjusting vector for a Fargone jump. They announced no homeworld or port, contrary to firm custom and there was no Red Metal listed in the registry either. They did appear to be a freighter and heavily laden, from the long burn needed to change their exit angle.

Another ship entered hot on the same vector and made a hard turn right after the Red Metal. It appeared to be on an intercept and accelerated after the freighter. It would catch up easily and even match speed if it desired before jump. It had to be military, but it offered no ID.

"Red Metal, this is the Republic of Fargone Defense Cruiser Arch of Heaven. Are you aware you have a pursuer astern? If you are attempting to reach Fargone under hostile pursuit, we have an interest. We are painting you briefly in concern, please do not consider it a threat."

"Thank you, thank you," said Captain Allen. "Illuminate him please!"

The Arch examined both ships with several seconds of radar and shifted frequency for a really detailed look. The power level did suggest a cruiser.

"Negative on any trouble, Arch of Heaven. That is our escort. Our apologies for our silence, but we were concerned about lurkers in-system, so please refrain from illuminating us again. Our friend will identify himself on entering Fargone traffic," Red Metal promised.

"Too late," chuckled Allen on the destroyer. The echo from the Red Metal was just what he thought. "The other ship…"How do you read that?" he asked Combat Control.

"It's big," the officer responded. "About as long as a heavy cruiser, three hundred meters and a bit, but fatter, with more of a football shape instead of a cylinder. I see a few pixels like something is sticking out of its side on one ping. Maybe extra shuttles grappled externally?"

"Any match to a known vessel or class?" Allen asked.

"No, sir. I hate to say it because I don't know how it could have been built anywhere in secret, but it might mass damn near as much as the DSBP Florida. If the Twelve Palms ran into that, all she could do would be run. She could outrun it, but not by all that much. I'd hate to assume what we just saw was its best legs."

They watched them run to jump, both drives bright from their view. The two ships were uncomfortably close, about fifty kilometers apart, but not matched for speed when they both blinked out at once.

"Targeting, how close did those two jump together?" Allen asked.

"As close as makes no difference on our scan. Less than ten microseconds."

"They had to be closer on the tick than that, not to be damaged by tidal forces at fifty kilometers. With a huge speed differential to complicate the timing. It's not easy to synchronize your clocks overtaking. That isn't any freighter crew flying the Red Metal either. They are going to emerge in Fargone space so tight they will look like a single ship for several minutes. That is some hot military piloting."

* * *

"The girl is visiting with the Jones family," Earl told the single naval officer that came to his door. They must think he was stupid. They had those mirror windows on the big truck, but the sun was behind it. He could see the silhouette of three helmeted thugs inside. "They got a girl Ellen her age and they hit it off. She's staying with them a couple of days. They are in the next group of apartments west on the main road. Their name will be on the post box. Don't be surprised how it looks, it's negative income projects, kind of rough. We just moved out of there, improved ourselves a bit over that. I've got no objection if you want to question her, but she is fostered to us. I expect you to have a three-way with me and family services if you need to take her back into custody," he said sternly.

"That isn't necessary," the man lied smoothly. "There are some problems with jurisdiction and the judge may have acted outside his authority," he said.

"The way the girl told it, the old fart was a total jack-ass," Earl told him to see what it would shake out.

"I met the old fool," the man said with a sudden scowl. "She is an excellent judge of character." Earl was positive it was the first truthful thing he'd said.

Perhaps his lie was too dangerously close to the truth, but he'd been too startled at them to create something from scratch. Altering the truth had been within his skills.

When the man got back in his truck Earl called the free bus and was delighted they were very close by on another pick-up already. He told his wife and children to toss a change of clothing in a couple of bags and be ready to get on the bus in ten minutes. He got in the cupboard and got the tea box out and opened it. There was a roll of mixed bills and a handful of coins hoarded over the years for an emergency. When those guys found no mailbox with Jones on it, he judged it would be an emergency. He'd call John from the bus.

He'd seen the old busybody across the way peering out the window again. Earl took his family out the back patio door and walked around the complex on the back lawn, out of her sight. When the bus slowed to turn in their lane he flagged it down and they boarded on the main road.

* * *

The DSBP Florida rejoined the reality of our normal universe once again, on the edges of the Paradise system. The Destroyer Texarkana had preceded it deeper in-system five minutes ago and the wavefront of its all-clear message hit them almost as they emerged.

The Deep Space Cruiser Calgary appeared, with the tiny burst of secondary particles that announced its rude rupture of space and her twin the DSC Key West joined her seconds later, a thousand kilometers on either side of their flagship. The Destroyer Acapulco joined them last.

The Florida hailed the Phoenix to reveal itself and report. The broadcast was encrypted, but the fact it was broadcast instead of tight-beamed showed its nature without knowing the contents. The station asked their identity, likely nervous at so many warships. System chatter had fallen off sharply after so many strange transits. When the Florida finally got around to identifying themselves and asked for a rehash of system traffic from the station, which was a common courtesy, they were told to get it from their lurker. It was the first time anyone had ever treated them with hostility. A sudden increase in shuttle traffic appeared to be a station evacuation effort.

Admiral Benson could not understand why a small out of the way world would look at a large force of warships appearing unannounced and slow to identify themselves as intimidating. They had after all done nothing overtly hostile. He saw no need to name his silent escorts, or state any intentions.

Not long after the wavefront from the Phoenix reached him, with news of the previous traffic and advising him they were rejoining the fleet, a high-speed drone left the system on a Fargone heading. It had to be from the Arch of Heaven. He had no curiosity what it was carrying, it simply wasn't his concern. Neither did he hail the Arch. If asked, he would have failed to connect the drone to his presence.

The Arch meanwhile was sitting at alert, ready to run on any vector that would give them escape, if this force maneuvered to cut them off. The USNA Admiral was smart, brilliant in his own way about naval matters, but had a serious lack of imagination and little empathy.

The fleet assembled and jumped to investigate the route the Twelve Palms followed.

Chapter 43

Special Agent Hershey called ahead and had the address he was given put under surveillance, while he came quickly from California. His agents quickly saw Lee was not with the Hansons. More agents flooded in to widen the search. Quick and careful work door to door, found a woman across the street from the foster family who was a natural informant. She verified Earl had gone out with Lee three days ago and come back alone. An even larger number of agents had checked the whereabouts of all the negative income people in the area, as they rarely moved around. They were all accounted for. They asked who were friends with the Hansons. People were questioned hoping to find others with who they might be sheltering. Most of them were people with children of similar ages.

Finally, they worked down to people who were friends of one family member. They found John Williamson and his family were not at home. An examination of the house suggested they had not been home for several days.

A quick interview of several associates showed John traveled to the city regularly and bought items there that were more expensive locally. However, he usually went alone. That break in his pattern, and the fact he had a girl Lee's age rang all of Hersey's alarm bells. When it was revealed his mother lived in Metro Detroit, the Special Agent called for a light plane to rush them south.

* * *

The Florida had a secret system for intelligence gathering. Basically, it was a large radio telescope. The original idea was it could gather the whisper of even a common telephone on a planet, from the very edge of a stellar system. The trick was not building such a radio telescope, but building it in such a way that it could be carried in a shuttle bay and self deploy in a reasonable amount of time.

The Big Ear, as the com people called it, could only be lifted from its cradle in zero-g and it took twenty minutes to unfold itself by the steady buildup of electrostatic charge. The slightest breath of attitude jets or the pressure of light deeper within the system would have ripped it to pieces like a hurricane.

It was also a time machine. Something that could hear the whisper of a walkie talkie light hours away, could hear the full power blast of a ship's radio after it had traveled weeks. The Florida carried two of them.

The first system they visited seemed an unlikely place to lose a ship. It was a binary system in which each star had rocky inner planets, but the outer systems of each had been swept clear by the alternating tug of the stars. They sped through without slowing.

The next star had a full family of dead planets the second one a hot hell like Venus. The third a dry dead planet like a large Mars, with a thin atmosphere of noble gasses. But it also had a huge field of asteroids where a gas giant might normally be. There was a mining community and much activity. The miners readily talked to him and listed many transits that didn't talk to them. It seemed unlikely a ship could be taken under their noses and they had no reason not to tell the tale if they had seen such a thing happen. The third system had a huge gas giant, remarkable enough to be named Goliath, and two clusters of asteroid materials at the two stable gravitational points around the giant's orbit. Goliath also had a huge swarm of moons and a substantial if not visually spectacular inner ring system. The star was variable, with large random emissions of radio frequencies. Benson had a sense this was the place he wanted and deployed the two devices at staggered distances to intercept traffic from six to eight days ago and eight to ten days.

The Florida did a circuit of the system at the Goliath orbit level and inspected the asteroid clusters up close and in detail with millimeter radar. They found no Human artifact at all before they returned to recover the telescopes and their recordings.

"Twelve Palms you are ordered to stand to and cease acceleration. The nation of Red Tree is at a state of war with the USNA. You will surrender or be destroyed."

"Play it again." Admiral Benson listened to it again with no apparent emotion.

"I believe," Benson said tentatively, "the large bogie the Phoenix saw transit Paradise is this Retribution and she captured the Twelve Palms intact. The freighter leading her was likely the tender she referred to. Given her size, she has to have capabilities within the range of somewhat less than a cruiser to, in a worst-case scenario, near equal to the Florida." He paused thoughtfully and none of his officers seemed disposed to add anything so he continued.

"We do not know where they sent the Twelve Palms. A search for her could require more naval units than the entire USNA has at its disposal. This Retribution is a declared enemy and we know where she went. We will transit intact as a fleet and require the surrender of the Retribution and the location of our destroyer. The Destroyer Phoenix will scout ahead at maximum speed, avoid contact and send a drone back to the Paradise system, to advise us of the status they found in the Fargone system before we follow. Captain Edwards, make it all so."

* * *

"Special Agent," Mrs. Williamson said, planted like a fireplug in the doorway, "My son is not here and I don't intend to discuss anything else with you. If you have any other questions I am going to lawyer up until hell freezes over. Without a warrant, I will grant you to send one person in my home to do a hands-off walk through and see that my son is not here. I'm widowed to a policeman and I know from my husband that ninety-nine percent of you are sons-of-bitches. He certainly was. I know you love to toss a place and bust everything in sight, until it is knee-deep in trash. Not here you don't. I have a car of local cops on the way over," she said. The phone in her hand testified to that. "Cops who owe my husband, hate Feebies, and take care of their own. If you so much as bust a teacup, I'm going to have cop on cop testimony against you that will make your life hell for years. Do I make myself clear?"

"He's not here," Hershey decided. "She isn't bluffing and his car isn't here. If we tie ourselves up here just because she pisses us off we're shooting ourselves in the foot. Skip the walk-through even. It's a time-waster. Thank you, ma'am, we have no further questions."

He turned back to the car as two black and whites pulled up and parked around his vehicles. "Pull away. Flash a badge and ignore them if they try to flag us down. We are going to want to go north on the highway. We should be able to overtake him, but put a lookout at this end of the bridge and a road-block at the north end," he ordered. The local cops just watched them go.

* * *

The Destroyer Twelve Palms renamed Sharp Claws was in Fargone orbit surrounded by the grid of an orbital repair dock. They were quickly peeling her markings off, even though the Mothers had not yet approved her taking and her shuttle had been transferred to the Retribution. Gordon had to give his personal letter against her repairs. The Mothers had no interstellar credit to pledge to the work.

"I do most of my banking through Ceres,"

"What's the name of your Corporation?"

"No company," Gordon explained, "just ask regarding the personal accounts of Gordon of Red Tree Clan. They will know who you mean." The look on the man's face, when he checked the local branch of the Bank of Ceres to ascertain Gordon's creditworthiness was amusing.

When Gordon asked for a performance bond for his work and custody of the vessel the yard had to buy it from three banks to spread the risk. He was fairly certain it added ten percent to the repair cost, but worth every centum.

The crew of the destroyer was released to Fargone with that government's permission and Gordon pledged their passage home against the Mothers’ share of the Twelve Palms as they had contracted. The officers he had gotten to know at his mess and they were surprised not to be held hostage against his daughter.

"I have the entire North American continent hostage under my hand," Gordon told them. He illustrated with his middle arm, not a true hand, placing a paw that could cover their dinner plate firmly on the table and gathering the linen in with a slow retraction of his extended claws. He hoped it was an image they'd relate in their debriefing.

There might not be much of a market for used destroyers even if they had not wanted to keep her, but they were getting very favorable treatment for giving the Fargone defense industry a look at a very new USNA destroyer and her systems.

The missiles he actually sold two outright to the Fargoers and they came close to covering the repairs by themselves. Part of their instructions was that the repairs had to be done in such a way that the vessel would not be so easily damaged again. That was pushing the tech envelope and Gordon shrugged at their uncertainty and told them. "Well install redundant shielded cable systems, with the terminations shorted and plugged and back up the other parts in stores if there is no tech to harden them better. You can see what failed and duplicate them."

They were aboard, near ready to run back to Derfhome, when one of the Fargone officials called Gordon. "You have funded for the crew of the Twelve Palms to be repatriated. Is it permissible to use those funds if the person elects to take passage to another world instead of Earth?"

He was surprised but thought quickly. If any failed to return it was a loss of valuable experience. And if they had opposing political views they would do Derfhome more good out from under the USNA thumb. "Certainly," he agreed after a pause. "If any wish a more expensive passage we will cover that. And if any want to stay on Fargone that are acceptable to you, then they can have the price of passage as a cash bonus, to help them reestablish here. May one ask how many are inquiring about this?"

"Sir, we have two officers and a rated able spaceman seeking it."

"Thank you," Gordon said. "I appreciate your calling it to my attention."

"Fargone Control, Retribution requests station departure instructions, and vector for a standard one-g run to jump for Paradise. Survey System 2371," Thor said for them.

"Roger Retribution, holding for construction traffic ten minutes. Loading instructions by station cable. Contact Departure Control on channel three. Be safe out there."

* * *

It was difficult not to be observed tailing John Williamson. On the narrow straight farm roads, there was no other traffic to hide behind most of the time. Jesus called a chase plane in to watch him from the side and sent one of the vans a mile west to run ahead a bit in parallel. If Blackwater didn't own it, they had it on retainer, or their name rented it pretty quickly.

John's mother called him, so he was now aware he was wanted and sick with worry about what to do about it. Continuing to put distance between him and Lapeer seemed like a good idea. He had no great amount of cash himself and was not convinced he wanted to take any from Lee. For one thing that wasn't what he had agreed to do with Earl and that mattered a great deal to him. He couldn't get past thinking of her as a little girl. In his mind, he was contracted with Earl.

"Could we head west and cut back south and go all the way around the lake the long way, so we don't have to go over the bridge?" Lee asked.

"No, my daddy was a cop. I know how this stuff works. If you get away fast before they organize you stand a chance. The longer you run the more assets they pull in until they have you. You got to get far away fast, or go to ground somewhere like an animal going down a hole and stay put until they stop looking for you. I don't know the back roads the other way either. The trouble with the bridge is they will call ahead. That's the one bottleneck they know we have to go through," John worried.

"You told me you like to read spy novels," Lee remembered. "If we weren't with you and you were a spy how would you get around the bridge?"

"If I were a spy I could hire a boat or a plane. I wouldn't worry about dumping an old wreck of a car, because it would mean about as much as a pair of socks to me. I wouldn't be out here trying to haul a bunch of cheap groceries to squeak by!" John said.

"I could pay for your car," Lee offered. "If you can get a plane or a boat across I can pay for it. Crap, I can buy a plane or a boat and not miss it out of pocket money. I can buy us another car on the other side," she said frustrated.

"Huh," he grunted. "I could just park the car and walk away, but it's going to get reported and towed. I might park it someplace like the Ferry lot, but when it empties out at night somebody will see it. The local cops will run the plate and figure out what we did."

"There's a ferry?" Lee asked, interested.

"Yeah, out to Mackinac Island. It's a fancy expensive resort, but that doesn't do us any good, it's not a car ferry. In fact, there are no cars on the island," John told her.

"How do they get around then? Really tiny island?" Lee asked.

"No, not that small, they have horse-drawn wagons and carriages. People rent bicycles and some do walk. Especially the day tourists that stay close by the ferry docks and shop."

"Horses?" Lee asked, incredulous. John just smiled.

They drove along a bit in silence. "Lee, the ferry boats visit the island from both sides of the straights," John said, with sudden intensely.

"So we could go out to the island and then take another ferry to the other side?" Lee asked.

"Sure could. I just never thought to. It would be obvious though after they found our car. I still don't know how to get around that," John said.

"You don't have family in town that would hide the car?" It seemed like everybody Lee met here had a mob of extended family.

"Good idea, but no. I could put it in a shop to be repaired, but you never know if they will take a couple of hours to fix something or several days," John considered. "We could find a place and roll it into the water too, but if it didn't go all the way under we'd still be in trouble. And we'd have to walk from wherever we did it."

"Daddy I know exactly how to get rid of the car, but you would likely never get it back."

Clare hardly ever said boo, so they were surprised. "How Honey?"

"Just park it in front of some of the nicer shops in Mackinaw City. Leave the keys in the ignition and a couple of hundred bucks gas money in the glove compartment or over the visor. I bet it is gone and somebody will have it hidden for us in a half-hour."

"Clare darling, you are brilliant. That's our plan."

"Thank you, Daddy. I'm needing the bathroom pretty soon if we could stop," she added.

"Next main road over to an interchange," John promised.

* * *

The Retribution started a run for jump back the way they had come in. Their home was three systems back the way they had been to the system with Goliath and two different jump paths to Derfhome. There was no good reason to follow the same pattern if there was an alternative route.

About a third of the way into their run a burst of radiation ahead marked an emergence. "Fargone Control this is the USNA Deep Space Destroyer Phoenix inbound for Fargone orbit. May we have a traffic plot for the previous forty-eight hours please?" They were about six light-minutes ahead. They had jumped aggressively deep into the system.

"Plot to follow. Traffic advisory. You are head-on with traffic for jump. Running parallel with separation, but anything under twenty thousand kilometers requires notification." Examine recent plot for details," Fargone Control instructed them. The wavefront passed them and gave them a more accurate fix on the Phoenix. How were they going to react when the plot showed them head on to the Retribution and set for a close pass? Did they know them by name?

"Battle stations," Gordon called on all ship intercom. "Missile crews at controls in four minutes. I don't care if you are in your skivvies with ketchup on your chin. Move it. We were doing business here and got hospitality in an armed ship. Nobody asked us to stand off, or put our weapons under seal. Let's not ruin it by shooting first. If there was a lurker in the Paradise system maybe we were never named to them. Straight station plot doesn't show our cross-section or length, but it would say we are Derf. Think that will be enough to make him shoot?"

He had no idea every ship in their fleet knew Retribution by name.

When the station wavefront reached the Phoenix it took them fifteen seconds to read the plot. Another fifteen seconds for shouted orders. Then a drone broke away and decelerated to turn back the way they had come in.

"Any chance of picking off the drone before it can jump?" Gordon asked.

"Not a chance in hell at this range," Thor assured him. "Don't waste the missile."

"Alternate jump paths for any other system?" Gordon asked.

"Ninety-eight percent jump probability for Survey System 2109 at two-g within five minutes," Thor said. "Exponentially decreasing jump success after that. Near unity jump luck with extreme overrun and bleed off excess velocity in the target system."

"Change course for alternate and jump deep. Advise Fargone Control of emergency change, Com." Gordon ordered.

"Our burn takes us cross-ways to the Phoenix. They are burning directly away at about four-g. That's about all they can do without time to prep for hard acceleration. Likely somebody will get hurt even at that level on short notice."

"I predict course change and weapons release, as soon as they hear our jump change," Thor reasoned. "They will see us escaping whatever ship or ships they are sending that drone."

"Hyper missiles two tubes, one conventional straight in to blind her. Delay the hypers with a dogleg course. Track the Phoenix, but shoot only on my word. Defensive controllers fire on your own discretion if you have targets," Gordon allowed.

"Phoenix maneuvering, two away," Thor said.

"Fire," Gordon ordered. The release was felt before the word was finished. "Now fire four conventional in coast and sprint mode, aimed at the Phoenix's emergent point," Gordon said. "And hope the bastards come through soon to see why we don't emerge." Four more shudders came through the hull.

"No more fire from Phoenix," noted Thor.

"If she is like Twelve Palms she only carries six hypervelocity and two tubes. If two don't take us once it probably won't twice. They hate to shoot themselves empty," Gordon explained. "Beam weapons, stand by for close-in fire."

"Might as well try throwing shoes out the lock if the antis miss," Thor said.

"I'd order that too, if we could get them down there in time," Gordon said.

Two small shudders marked individual interceptor missiles at extreme range. They would make the incoming missiles maneuver and expend counter-measures. Two more followed. Everyone was tense. A sudden flurry of missiles left them.

"One gone," Thor announced.

>WHAM<

A blow rocked the ship so hard it made Gordon's teeth hurt.

"Second missile detonated on fail fusing at extreme range," Thor reported. "Jump in seven, six, five, four, three, two, one," and the stars blinked and changed.

"Damage control on way to shuttle hanger,” Thor continued. “The hanger was in vacuum. Pressure failure in storage. Pressure drop in corridor section by the hanger. Pressure drop in the galley. Com and controls up. Crap, there were two cooks working prepping for dinner. We lost crew."

"Did you get him?" Gordon asked.

"Damned if I know," Thor told him. "We jumped seconds before the critical action. He sure as hell holed us straight through. You know that fancy little shuttle we took off the Twelve Palms? Damage control says there's about enough of it left to fill a ship duffel."

* * *

"Vehicle turning east," the plane told them. "Fuel and restaurants over by the highway. I suspect they may gas up, get some food."

"We follow," Jesus told the other van and the plane. "If you are low on fuel now is a good time to go get some," he suggested to the plane.

"We're good until they reach the bridge," he was assured, "this platform loiters very efficiently at low speed. I wouldn't be able to return before they are on the move again."

"Stay then," Jesus allowed. "There are three stations at this exit. We are half on fuel but will top off fuel at a different station. In sight of them if possible. Wendi's van will pull around behind the station they go to and stay under our voice control. Then we'll switch and let them fuel up."

John pulled up to a pump and went inside to pay. They didn't trust you to pump first when you paid cash. Lee and Clare used the restroom and came out to look through the chachka in the store. Jan went in the restroom after them.

Two big four-door off-road trucks pulled in. One cut across the nose of their car. The other crossed the T on the rear blocking them in. Across the street Jesus yanked the nozzle out of his vehicle early, yelling to Wendi on the radio before the trucks had come to a stop. The plane was telling him what he already saw with his own eyes.

"I'm going in the back with Chris," Wendi advised her driver. "You back up and engage these assholes. Then pick us up."

Chris got out, a huge leather duster covering his armor, but failing to make him inconspicuous. He blew the lock to shreds with a breaching round, let the 12 gauge drop on its harness, and peeled the door open with black-gloved hands. He dropped to one knee beside the door frame inscrutable behind his mirrored glasses and Fu Manchu and racked the shotgun.

Wendi charged through the door headlong screaming something unintelligible.

John looked up and saw the trucks bracket his vehicle outside. A man jumped out with a huge pry bar and smashed out the driver's window in passing. He ran back to the trunk and ripped it open with one long levered pull. Another fellow joined him to peer in the trunk and then they saw him gaping at them in the window. He turned and ran.

Wendi burst through the swinging doors from the rear of the store with her war face on and blocked John's path. He slid to a stop in terror.

"We are your rescue shithead. Where is Lee?"

"There," he pointed to the girls, crouched behind the tourist items. "And my wife in the women's room!" John shouted.

"In the van!" Wendi ordered and grabbing a hand full of shirt threw him through the doors into the rear room. For a wonder, Chris didn't shoot him. "Girls, you too," she said pointing at the doors. They scrambled for the back.

The agents were at the front doors and her van had finally backed out from behind the station and engaged their vehicles. The 12mm opened up with mixed tracers and armor-piercing, walking down the front truck destroying it with careful workmanlike bursts. Glass exploded and it sank to the rims on burst tires.

The clerk ran out the doors and across the parking lot, abandoning his post. The tracers transversed the Williamson's car and cut the gas pumps off knee-high, panels and pump bodies scattering in a flurry of burning parts, and went to work on the rear truck.

The agents making for the front door threw themselves to the concrete and looked back when the heavy machine gun opened up. Something in the second truck exploded, propelling it into the rain shelter overhead, lifting the whole corner of the steel structure and it fell back burning upside down on the car. The front windows all burst in from that, but Wendi was in the women's room by then.

She grabbed Jan who was standing by the sink and told her. "Rescue! Your family is outback. Go for the van!" She half dragged her out of the restroom and propelled her towards the backroom doors. The men at the front doors were trying to get up and she gave them a good long burst and saw one jerk from a hit. Jan ran for the back. Chris was leaning against the door frame in the back and about half-way to him he fired the shotgun so close she felt the slug go past her ear. The muzzle blast peppered her. "Mount up," she yelled at Chris and he stood and sprinted across the doorway coat billowing behind him.

Wendi reached the door and got an extra shove in the back that staggered her. She looked down and there was a ragged hole pushed out the front of her armor. Everything got slow. She turned and her people were all crouched against the back wall of the store staring at her. The van was pulling up, 12mm’s muzzle being pulled in the door. Chris was headed to their charges and didn't know she was in trouble behind him. The girl Lee was looking at her horrified.

She finished turning and Agent Hershey was standing just inside the swinging doors. He was staggering, recovering a huge pistol in recoil. There was bright blood on his shirt around a neat dark hole in his chest. Another man was lying in the doorway head removed courtesy of French's shotgun.

Lee saw the woman's war face smooth out and she got a terrible smile. Wendi reached down and ripped two small balls off the front of her vest, they made a metallic tinkle in the sudden silence as the spoons spun off to the pavement. They left two rings with a straight pin fastened to the vest when they came off. She didn't bother throwing them. She stepped back inside the door. Another shot rang out, but it was far too late and superfluous. White flame coughed out the open door with a ground shaking>THUMP<followed by burning debris and the entire back wall bowed out and stayed bulged. Orange flame followed white and billowed upward turning sooty.

Chris stuffed Lee inside the sliding door and rolled in after her. The van made a sweeping U-turn and cut around the front of the store. The pumps and vehicles were burning, the flames curling around the edges of the twisted overhead shelter.

The van door was still open and as they crossed in front of the station the other man inside aimed an odd stubby barreled weapon over the prone figure of Chris and it coughed delicately to her shocked ears. The empty windows of the station filled with a dazzling white glare and a thousand burning fragments fanned out of the shattered windows trailing thick white smoke. "Willy Pete," the smiling fellow said cryptically to Lee's shocked face.

The last thing Lee saw as she looked back was the station attendant, crouched down behind his car on the edge of the parking lot, watching the station burn.

* * *

"Defense we have a situation here." Fargone Control said in an understatement.

"We see. The Phoenix fired first," Defense pointed out. "We can hardly deny them self defense when they altered course and didn't try to stop their drone either."

"I don't think they could catch it," Control said, "but I'd have wasted a missile trying I think… Crap. Retribution is hit. Debris and gas. It still managed to jump so they must not be hurt that bad. They advised of an emergency change of jump target before they left. Courtesy is nice, but I'll be damned if I'd be calling Traffic Control under missile fire with updates. Do you think they can get a valid jump on their alternate or did they just jump into the great unknown?"

"They have a very good chance," Defense insisted. "Especially since they were bright enough to run long. Phoenix is hit. See that? Not breaking up. Launched a few lifeboats and then stopped. She appears to be about a quarter shorted. One of those missiles bit an end off her. I think they forced the other to detonate too far out."

"Control you better have somebody run out on a search and rescue. Might as well send Oleg's boys. They have the Sharp Claws in dock. I'd imagine they would welcome three-quarters of a Santa Fe class destroyer as salvage right now. We'll send the cruisers Quantum Queer and the Murphy's Law out with the salvage tugs and a passenger bus, so the idiots don't get hostile with the salvage people. I've seen folks who go irrational and hole up in the wreck until they run out of air or food, before they will allow they don't have control and need rescue."

"What the heck is that second salvo doing?" Control asked. "It is headed for the point the Phoenix emerged, but slowly, powered down. I can see them shooting back but that's just a hazard to navigation. Shouldn't they be fail safed to self destruct by now?"

"No, that is tactics. Smarter than I'd have credited these guys who haven't been through an academy. Where is that drone going and what will it report? Tell Oleg to hold off approaching that wreck until the situation resolves. If we are too close when somebody emerges they may assume hostility."

Defense consulted among senior staff. They had two cruisers and a much smaller destroyer than those the USNA built, more like a frigate, in-system. Three high orbiting stations had heavier missiles than a ship could carry. Was that enough? Four drones raced off to neighboring systems to recall some muscle.

Chapter 44

"Here," The man with the stubby weapon thrust his headset at Lee. "Jesus wants to talk to you." Lee fumbled with the strange equipment and got it on. "Hello?"

"Lee I'm behind you in the other van." She looked out the rear windows and the passenger in the van waved at her. She couldn't see his face, but it was Jesus' voice.

"Your dad wanted you to be picked up if it could be done. We have been watching you but got pushed to act when the Feds tried to take you into custody again. Once you get tucked away deep in their private prison system we'd have no chance. I have a plane standing off watching. It can land on a country road. If I call it in will you board willingly and let our people get you to a shuttle and get you off-planet?"

"What about my friends?" Lee demanded.

"We were hired to snatch you. We don't have any instructions about your friends."

"I have my own money to hire you. You know that don't you?"

"Yes Lee, I'm well aware," Jesus said.

"Take the job of getting the Williamsons and the Hansons clear of this mess and resettled someplace safe and I'll get on the plane," Lee bargained.

"Hang on," Jesus urged.

They rode in silence. Somebody had finally closed the sliding door. John was sitting staring at her, astonished. He'd obviously been listening to her side of the conversation.

"I will likely be leaving, but I'm making sure you are safe. Don't be afraid to ask these people to do anything," Lee told him. "I have places off-world you are welcome if that's what it takes to get you safe and clear." He was rattled but nodded that he understood.

"Thank you, Lee," he finally managed. "I hope they get you safe too."

"Lee, my employer accepts your commission and will make every effort to see your friends safe." Jesus didn't think now was the time to explain it was not Blackwater.

"Call your plane down then. I'll get aboard and I want a pistol, I damn well know how to use one and I'm tired of being helpless," Lee said.

"Lee, It's safer with you," John said. "Take Clare with you if there is a seat."

Lee looked at Clare. She wasn't a big talker but there was no objection on her face. Indeed she seemed to have more a look of interest and expectation.

"Does the plane have two seats?" Lee asked Jesus on the headset.

"Yes, it is a four-seater and has a pilot and an observer, but they are both agents and you don't need to take any of the ground team with you for security," Jesus told her.

"Not them. I'm taking Clare with me." Lee ripped off the headset and returned it to preclude any argument. The van was slowing and the plane came over them from behind so low the wheels almost hit. It dipped, pitched nose up, huge flaps dropped even further on the wings and it landed with a surprising short roll. The van caught up and swerved at an angle blocking both lanes, sliding door toward the plane.

Chris touched Lee on the shoulder. "Jesus says this is for you." He drew a 9mm and put the grips in her hand without expression. She stuffed it in her carryall and took the two magazines he offered in the other hand. "No serial numbers on it," was his only comment.

Clare was being hugged by both parents with a strange look on her face. Both were talking low at both ears. Lee grabbed Clare's hand and pulled. "Come on," she urged and the girl didn't slow them down at all.

The plane was ridiculously small and had a propeller on the front, of all things. She had been looking forward to seeing a horse and carriage on the island. This seemed almost as old fashioned. The pilot's eyebrows went up at seeing two people and the door popped open with the observer twisting sideways and pulling his seat forward, tilted to let them crawl in the tiny rear. Nobody bothered to tell them to belt in or anything. The engine noise deepened to a harsh howling vibration even before the door slammed and suddenly the wheel noise vanished, they were heavy and looking at farmer's fields out the side window instead of the horizon. Lee was shocked anything with a propeller could climb like this.

"I didn't think to grab my purse," Clare said surprised at herself. "I think I just grew up all at once and found out stuff like my bag doesn't matter that much," she said in wonder.

* * *

"Retribution on Paradise jump run. Engaging. Plot attached. God speed. Phoenix."

It was certainly the shortest drone message he'd ever seen. They formed an expanding circle and linked defensive systems, waiting for Retribution to emerge into their semi-englobement. And waited. She didn't show. Could she had been damaged too badly by the Phoenix's fire to jump? Destroyed completely by a lucky shot? Or did she balk at jump decelerating to slowly return in-system after bleeding off her speed? That left little delta-V for battle maneuvers. But she might still be a risk to Phoenix and the fleet should join her to defend her.

It never occurred to Admiral Benson that civilized folk might object to his warring in their system. He read the plot and also failed to consider that Fargone might censor their own warcraft and drones from their system plot. He decided to jump in as a group. He aimed at the drone entry line and his escorts ran with him at a safe distance on the same vector. They were all primed to shoot at anything, expecting hostiles.

The Retribution launched missile was slowly coasting on a line for the emergent point. It only had a normal nuke warhead, not an X-ray laser head. That required a really close detonation in vacuum to do serious harm. If a target presented ahead it would sprint toward it and arm.

The Florida emerged ahead of it so close the missile didn't have time to start its thrusters. In fact, it impacted on the nose of the Deep Space Battle Platform and penetrated into the com space under the command and flight deck.

It didn't have time to arm conventionally either, but the missile sensed an impact even as its outer layers of heat shield vaporized on contact, so similar to an intercept that it detonated on a fail fuse command - inside the fleet flag vessel. The other three missiles seeing no target before them and their mate triggered, went off as they had been programmed.

The instant of emergence is one of stress. Suddenly a complex situation is revealed and the senses can't absorb all of it at once. The Combat Control of the cruiser Calgary emerged to see the disintegration of the Florida in a nuclear fireball. That was only three thousand kilometers away. The other three close detonations were unnerving because he did not know if they targeted other ships of his fleet. The flagship's destruction broke their combat link up and he was dumped back to manual fire control.

He didn't wait to sort it out either. The detonations obscured much of the board for some seconds. There was a clear target however in close range, fleeing in-system and the friend or foe computer said it wasn't one of theirs.

It identified it as a frigate at three quarters as long as a destroyer. It carried no friend or foe transponder to ward off missiles because they were on the end of the ship that had been shot off. He never considered it might be a Fargone vessel or another third party. The officer laid his cursor on the target and released four X-heads within seconds of the plot forming at emergence.

The Phoenix was gone at the drive end and damage control was trying to sort things out. However the weapons system was still on dual-mode to shoot manually, or if the computer saw a clear threat. Both tubes had missiles and power. The friend or foe had been switched off so they could shoot at the Retribution, as the computer insisted on seeing her as a friendly. It fired both tubes twice before somebody shut the whole system down manually. That was the last of their X-head missiles anyway. Then the missiles from the Calgary hit.

The Calgary fended off the first two missiles. Of the second pair, the first one managed a hit that barely punched a small hole through the ship a third of the way back. However, it took out the starboard anti-missile missile locker feed. The software rolled the ship to bring the other to bear, but way too slowly. The second missile bored in unopposed and detonated five hundred kilometers away. The primary beam took out the rear reactor and running drive system. The Calgary vanished in a ball of plasma that made the missile warheads look feeble.

Key West hailed Fargone. "We demand you cease fire and stand down. This is an unprovoked attack. We will defend ourselves vigorously if targeted again."

"Stop shooting long enough to read your plot you frigging idiot," Fargone Control told him. "No Fargone forces have fired a single shot. The USNA Destroyer Phoenix fired on the Red Tree Heavy Cruiser Retribution. The Retribution fired on the Phoenix and heavily damaged her before jumping. She also laid fire on the Paradise emergence point. That fire destroyed the Deep Space Battle Platform we saw emerge. Her escort cruiser destroyed the wreck of the Phoenix and was destroyed by her return fire."

"We strongly urge you to quit shooting each other. Sooner or later you are going to screw up and shoot a neutral and we will not be amused. You were not invited to use our system as a shooting gallery. We are dispatching a fast courier to Earth with the plot to lodge a complaint. We don't trust you to not try to shift the blame to us."

The Fargone courier could be seen on run for jump and for an instant the Combat Control officer in the Key West read the distances to see if an interception was possible. That would have precipitated war with Fargone. Then sanity returned.

Skeptical and watching intently for any betrayal, he did what Control suggested and read the plot, the shifting dots, and weaving colored lines on his screen telling the story as the clock kept pace in the corner. Bright bubbles blowing and popping on the screen in an innocent parody of nuclear death, "Shittt..." he muttered. They were right.

* * *

Jesus pulled in an abandoned State Forest Campground. They pulled in among the trees, where they would be sheltered from the wind. The agents jumped out and worked with precision.

Two cases of spray paint were cut open and a step ladder spread and locked. The top of the van was cleaned and being painted before the windows were completely masked. The license plate was yanked, the area behind painted, and the new plate installed before a painter returned and blended color to the edges.

An agent with a shovel and a rake jogged off into the woods and returned to carry the heavy weapons and empty spray cans away to bury. In twenty minutes they had a dark blue van, with correct plates that would run clean on the computer and a florist's bright logo on the side. It really looked good too. There were no runs and it was a very fast-drying formula. The cartons and masking were doused with a nonsmoking fluid and burned carefully in a fire pit.

The agents jumped back in the van and the last agent finished working back to the van with a coarse broom obscuring their footprints. He leaned out the door and cleaned the dirt off the broom carefully at the end. "Fire out?" asked Chris. "Shovel washed off?" he inquired. "No blue paint on your clothing or hands?" At the chorus of affirmative replies, he announced, "Good, free to roll," to the driver.

"Ready for some late lunch?" Jesus asked the Williamsons. "We'll need to eat on the road. I have to go catch a shuttle pretty quickly. My crew here will take care of you."

* * *

Lee watched the bridge they had been so concerned about slide by on their east side. The pilot chatted briefly with someone on the radio and they turned and descended abruptly to a real airport with a paved runway. They taxied between hangers and the observer got out and scouted around, before they were escorted into a man door on one of the hangers.

They were seated in an office that had a desk messy with piles of bills, invoices, and print-outs. The sheets were a jumble of pink and yellow and blue. There were at least a dozen objects on the desk Lee could not even identify. The computer looked like it should be in a museum. There were manuals and clear plastic boxes on the shelves, with black O-rings and electrical connectors. The chair at the desk was beefy oak with a split plastic cushion. The corner held a table with a coffee maker and a sign taped on a coffee can to remind the habitually cheap to pay five dollars. Under the smell of coffee, a trace of rubber and kerosene and something else stronger lingered, sweet and burnt.

They seated themselves in cheap green plastic chairs like you would use on a patio. Lee got a cup of coffee and she had no smaller bills, so she stuck a hundred in the can. The coffee was burnt and old and worth every cent. There was a washroom off the office with a man's shaving things on a shelf and a couple of girlie magazines. Lee used the toilet and leafed through a magazine amazed. Why was a woman clearly snarling considered attractive? Gordon was right, a Human society was complex beyond her reckoning. Lee washed her hands and looked at the empty paper towel dispenser and a dingy gray terry towel hanging on a ring. She wiped her hands on her pants.

They could hear muffled comings and goings and the occasional rumble of engines. The observer came back after a couple of hours and led them back out. The shadows had gotten longer and sitting where the little plane had been was a sleek jet, engines idling with a soft moan.

The stairway folded up and the hatch folded down with a faint whine and they were seated in much greater luxury than lawn chairs. The fuselage was triangular and narrow, only one seat on each side. A man with receding hair and a pointy nose came back, got in a refrigerator, and got two plastic-wrapped sandwiches out, which he dropped in their laps.

"Sorry, but we have ham and cheese, or ham and cheese. You want Coke or Lime?"

"Coke and do you perhaps have some whiskey?" Lee asked.

The man did a double-take and then laughed. "What the hell, I guess they can't lock you away longer than forever." He fumbled around in a cupboard and got a square bottle of bourbon with a black and white label. "Don't drink enough of this to show," he warned. "We'll be flying for several hours, but I don't want to explain why you can't walk straight. Sometimes you don't know you are to that stage until you try standing up."

"I just want one for a service," Lee assured him.

"Something religious?" he asked puzzled.

"To fallen comrades and shipmates," Lee explained. "I didn't ask anybody to die for me," she said upset. "I don't even know her name."

"Oh, her name was Wendi," he said, changing tone completely. "Thank you. I'd have one with you but I have to sit the second seat." He gave her a squeeze on the shoulder and went forward.

The jet seemed to climb a long time, then when the sky was a dark, almost indigo, it turned west and the engines picked up power instead of easing off. Lee watched the wings ease back until she could barely see the edge by leaning right against the viewport. The plane gave a little shudder and the sound changed subtly. She had no idea where they were going.

* * *

The Lunar Ambassador brought someone with him this time. Al Plantus didn't know him, but the strange haircut and the odd lapel pin said out-system to him.

"Mr. Secretary this is Wu Opportunity, special envoy to the USNA from the Republic of Fargone. He arrived in the Lunar Republic," he glanced down at his com, "well, today actually. We expedited coming to see you. He has a communication from his government and a recording he'd like to share."

"Certainly, I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Wu. I've often wished a government your size had a permanent envoy in the US instead of just a consulate in London. What would you like to tell me? Would you like refreshments while we speak?"

"No thanks. The London office is run by an Earthie. We couldn't get anyone to live here no matter how much money we threw at it. They tried to make it a punishment for capital crimes, to be sentenced as Earth Ambassador, but the Court ruled it cruel. I dragged the Loonie along to kick me in the shins when I get too rude. Fargone folks are kind of outspoken by Earth standards." He pulled out an envelope.

"This is all written up as flowery and sweet as can be, but the gist of it is this: Your warships are not welcome in our system. The three survivors of their last unfortunate visit are on the way home at our urging. They seemed to understand that six cruisers and four destroyers meant it was a very strong request. I took a fast courier so I beat them here. Don't send any more without asking our leave and don't expect us to say yes if you ask? Understand?"

The Lunar Ambassador gave Wu a playful kick. "The 'understand' was uncalled for Opportunity. There should have been at least three vague sentences using 'concern' and misunderstanding, but unfortunate was a very diplomatic word. Points for that," he allowed.

The levity did not amuse Plantus. "I assume you are speaking of Admiral Benson's task force. It is the only one operating in your direction. I find it hard to believe you reduced a fleet of a Deep Space Battle Platform, two cruisers, and three destroyers to three survivors. You are aware he was sending escorts off as scouts to examine other systems? You may have seen his fleet in reduced strength."

"We sure did, after they got blown to hell," Wu got kicked in the leg solidly and gave Eric Lannis a dirty look. "What I mean is, look at the system plot yourself. There is a chip in the envelope too. We don't know about any Admiral Benson. Never got to talk to him. If he was in that big assed Battle Platform, he ate a missile from the Red Tree Heavy Cruiser Retribution less than a second after emerging in our system."

"A bunch of Derf, slugged it out with a Battle Platform and won?" Al looked skeptical.

"No slugging. More a sucker punch. The platform never got a shot off. The Retribution had been fired on by your destroyer the Phoenix. What possessed them to fire first on a heavy cruiser in near beam range don't ask me – but they did. Got about forty meters vaporized off the ass end of their ship for their trouble. The Retribution changed course and jumped out – way late in their run to be doing that. Brass balls like – he made a generously large sphere with his hands – and politely informed Traffic Control of his change in itinerary under fire, like he did this every day before lunch." Wu leaned forward, getting into the story.

"But the Phoenix got off a drone before she got hit. Back into the Paradise system. So they are sitting over there waiting to clobber this Derf when he pops through. And he doesn't. They have to wonder. Did he get hit too bad to jump? Maybe blown to plasma if the Phoenix got lucky? The Derf knows they are going to have to come see. Who could resist? So he shoots a spread at the emergence point blind before he jumps. Now that is some shooting! Lay your missiles where you think they are going to be emerging and jump out!" His enthusiasm was however misplaced to his audience.

"And the others?" the Undersecretary asked, literally sick to his stomach.

"Oh, what the Derf didn't bag the stupid…" he jerked his leg away from a nasty kick. "What the Derf didn't shoot up was lost to blue on blue. Your cruiser and what was left of the Phoenix blew each other to hell. We didn't shoot any. Don't think that means we won't," Wu said waving an angry finger. "You can't just drag your stupid little war into our system and start blazing away. We're not going to put up with it!"

"So the surviving force coming home is?"

"A cruiser and two destroyers. Be happy you are getting that back. Half the angry captains in our navy were begging to finish them off on open mic. We could have done it, but odds were way too high, about twenty- percent, that at least one of our boys would have eaten a missile. They were hot to risk it, but you know what a cruiser costs now?" Wu asked.

"Yes, yes I'm keenly aware what a cruiser costs," Al answered. He pulled the letter out of the envelope. There was a data chip clipper crimped on the corner of the letter. He turned it over and started scribbling and suddenly thought of something and stopped.

"Your story is short the fate of a destroyer. Was another destroyer lost in this action? Is it on the chip?" Al asked.

"Nope. It doesn't show on the plot and we did not see it taken. I suggest you ask the Derf about that," Wu said slyly. The plot chip didn't go back far enough to show the Twelve Palms being carried in grappled to the Retribution. Something told him they wouldn't be reasonable about that if they found out.

"What are you writing on the back of my letter?" Opportunity asked.

"My resignation," the Undersecretary told him. "If you come back here tomorrow Mr. Swenson will be in charge. Assistant Undersecretary for Interstellar Affairs Mel Swenson, is almost as outspoken as you."Al refrained from saying vulgar. "You may enjoy each other's company. I told the President the orders he gave Benson could stir up trouble where there wasn't any. I, like you, have had quite enough." He signed the note with a flourish. "I shall be with my family in Florida tomorrow. I'm going to buy a fishing pole and retire," he vowed.

"Isn't that rather irregular?" the envoy asked, of the defaced document.

"A Fargoer, worried about irregularities?" Al asked amused. "Two hundred years from now some idiot historian will argue my resignation was really not a direct consequence of our war with the Derf. I think this links them closely enough to make my feelings clear," he said, rapping the document with a forefinger.

* * *

After she ate her sandwich and drank most of her coke, Lee told the story of her visit to a dockside bar and service for her parents to Clare. She looked in the cupboard but there was nothing but a paper cup. It would have to do. She poured a scant shot and said, "To lost mates. To Wendi, I'm sorry I didn't know you better," and downed it at a gulp. She took a swallow of her Coke to wash the harsh taste away.

She offered the cup to Clare with a questioning eyebrow. "I've never had any," Clare admitted, but she took the cup and poured a tiny bit, perhaps a teaspoon.

"To lost friends," Clare said. "I don't think I could ever be so brave." She took it at a gulp and made a face. "It's horrible," she said. She picked up her can but it was empty.

"It's much better in a Coke with some ice," Lee allowed. She offered her can that still had a few swallows. "I'm going to go forward and see what is going on."

The door to the cockpit had a little handle, but she stopped and rapped on the door with her knuckles. It sounded and felt pretty flimsy. It must not be a pressure hatch she decided, surprised. Instead of opening or a shouted 'come in' a speaker she hadn't seen above came alive with an electronic crackle and a very bad imitation of a French accent said, "Hallo? Who iz thes? Do you 'ave an appointment? Thes is a very bad time. My lady friend and I are just, uh, sitting to, uhm, dinner, yes, dinner. Can you come back?"

"I'm sorry I bothered you," Lee said. "I'll go back and see if I can put the fire out myself."

The door popped open. The pointy-nosed guy was smiling. "Ah, visitors are always a pleasure. What can we do for you? Some aerobatics to entertain? A turn at the controls?"

"I sort of wondered where we are going. Off-world, I know, but do you have any idea how? I have my spacer's papers on me. But I grabbed Clare at the last minute. I didn't think until just now, about how we are going to get her past the gate without papers. Any ideas?" Lee asked.

"Nobody told me you have papers. That might have been handy. However, we did not include them in our plans. We don't have to worry about passing a gate because we are never going anywhere outside a port. Our landing in the little low-security field where we picked you up never happened. We show as leaving Massachusetts from a very high-security field and flying directly to Vancouver. We will fuel up there, never leaving the plane, and go to a somewhat less sensitive port in Alaska. Follow that?"

"Yes, it's a security weakness," Lee understood. "Once you are inside you have relative freedom of movement. I'll remember that."

"In Alaska, we will board a freight shuttle. They still load crew off the tarmac. No boarding security like public transport uses, with screening at the loading ramp. You can walk on for a courtesy lift with your papers, but Clare I'm afraid will go like we had planned for you."

"How's that?"

"She will be hot expedited freight, marked perishable, pressure hold only," he smiled.

"Straight to Luna or through a station?" Lee asked still worried.

"The station would be under Earth authority. If not USNA, likely someplace with treaties and extradition. So we are going for the expensive fast shuttle, straight to the Lunar Republic. The shuttle crew is Blackwater," they informed her. "The Company," and she could hear the capitals in how he said it, "has considerable assets in air and space transportation."

"Oh good. I can just unload my pistol and be legal. The mayor gave my dad a pistol and just cautioned him not to load it in public pressure so I know it's OK."

"You have a pistol?" The copilot asked, warily.

"You know old man Lewis?" the pilot asked over his shoulder.

* * *

Acting Secretary for Interstellar Affairs Mel Swenson was pleading. "Mr. President, we have lost two freighters with cargo, a DSBP, a heavy cruiser, two conventional cruisers, two destroyers, a number of shuttles and been declared unwelcome at one of the most advanced Human worlds. We have been handed back a liner, Thank God, which had on board two trillionaires, thirty-two billionaires, the head of a prominent religious organization and two well know video stars. Apparently, Derf have no appetite for kidnapping and ransom, or we'd have an even bigger problem than the fact our naval fleet has been reduced by somewhere over a hundred and twenty billion dollars in vessels. We are coming up on five hundred killed in the hostilities and merchants are reflagging their American vessels to avoid being at risk. Worse, explorers are reflagging, which means we will be unable to receive originating nation Claims Commission shares for their new finds. Our economy depends on those finds. Otherwise, we are in the same class as Monaco or Somalia if we are not a space exploring nation."

He regarded the stony faces looking at him and despaired. "All over one adolescent tourist, who was none of our affair. The polls show our own world and the other worlds of Man all condemn us as child thieves and liars. That the nation did not repudiate the horrible things Judge Morse said and restore Lee Anderson to her father the very next day is inexcusable. We are labeled racist and worse. This morning I received notice New Japan advised its citizens to avoid travel to the USNA because it was in a state of war and subject to bombardment. They also said the legal system was inconsistent and subject to local abuse and prejudice to foreigners. People are canceling vacations, canceling whole conventions. Is this what you want?" Mel asked.

"If I'm racist for not kissing their furry little asses I can live with that," the Secretary of War told him. The Secretary just gapped at him. The silence grew long. Nobody raised an objection. In particular, the President was silent.

Mel was shocked to the core. He hadn't believed hatred of aliens was common. He thought it was the uneducated and the crazy religious extremists, arguing if dogs or Derf had souls and whether Halal applied to egg-laying aliens.

"I see the rot goes all the way to the top," Mel said softly. "I won't be a party to this. You will have the janitor as Acting Secretary pretty soon, if he'll have the job, because I quit. You people are not worth writing out a formal letter, I just quit." He walked out, wondering if they would arrest him. They had to know he was going to call a press conference.

Chapter 45

The crate came apart easily enough. Clare was on her back. She could only straighten her legs if she sat up. Laying down they had to be bent. She had a light inside and a com-pad with music and stuff to read. When they pulled her out she was stiff standing up, but immediately staggered in the head. They gave her adult diapers, but she was still stubbornly holding it when they uncrated her.

The Lunar Republic had no customs or immigration control. They had an information booth and a sign detailing restrictions and prohibitions for possession or passage in Public Pressure, at the entry from the Public Field. Lee had never seen that when they entered from the Commission field. It listed loaded firearms without frangible ammo, compressed combustible gases, including spray paints, primary explosives over one hundred grams, open sources of combustion, unleashed pets over thirty kilograms, insects, reptiles, and flight-capable birds of any size.

The shuttle crew walked them to the curtain to public pressure and Jesus and Diana were standing waiting. Both had odd weapons slung. Lee let out a whoop and ran to them, she wasn't sure who to hug first but Diana stepped forward and grabbed her off the ground and squeezed her back. She introduced Clare with an abbreviated explanation.

"We have an appointment with the Swiss Embassy here," Diana told her, "they act for Fargone, as well as several other worlds who decline to have an embassy on Earth. There is an embassy row where all sorts of worlds and nations have embassies and consulates and interest section offices for the entire Solar System. Fargone has a fast courier in-system and they made it known to your attorney they would put it at your disposal within the next few days to leave the system if you wished to return to Derfhome via Fargone. After we get that settled, is there anything you need?"

"By then we'll be hungry and we need at least a change of clothing, we have nothing," she told them. "Oh, can we stop and buy frangible ammo for a nine-millimeter pistol?" Lee asked.

"Trade me," Jesus said with a wicked grin. He had three magazines in his hand, with an odd dull copper bullet showing at the tops.

"I left them on the shuttle," Lee confessed. "It seemed safer coming in public pressure."

"I told you she would unload it," Diana told Jesus.

"How did you beat me up here?" Lee wanted to know. She jammed one of the magazines in the pistol, chambered a round, and safed it before returning it to her bag. She finally felt safe enough to put her earring in.

"I was lifting while you weren't halfway across Canada on your long air trip."

"Somebody has told my dad, I hope?" Lee asked.

They reached a taxi waiting for them and got in. It pulled away without instructions.

"We sent word to Derfhome and Fargone and a couple of other places he might show up. He's been moving around so much we aren't sure where to contact him until he checks in," Jesus explained. "He's been very active in prosecuting the war."

"How?" Lee asked, surprised. "I read they captured a cruiser, but I figured he'd send it somewhere with a Human crew and lay low until they could trade it out for a Derf capable vessel. He could barely get in engineering in the High Hopes and just about had room to turn around to get back out. I figured maybe they'd sell it to Fargone."

"You underestimate your kin," Jesus told her. "The USNA sent an expeditionary force to subdue Red Tree. A cruiser, the St. Louis, with four shuttles and a short company of Space Marines aboard."

"Oh no," Lee was horrified. "Did they bomb the clan? Is the Hold damaged?"

"They did not bombard, they landed. And one Derf did die," Jesus admitted. "However he killed all the Marines and captured three shuttles intact. It was not a glorious day for the Corps. The St. Louis was also destroyed in orbit by the captured Heavy Cruiser Cincinnati. They've renamed it Retribution and it really does matter it is a heavy cruiser, Lee. They mass about half again what a light cruiser does and have much heavier armament."

"Oh man, they'll send a stinking fleet now," Lee predicted. She also had a gut sinking feeling which Derf she knew could take out a company of Marines. She refused to ask.

"Out of the mouths of babes," Diana said. Lee looked at her funny.

"They did send a fleet," Jesus confirmed. "They'll even get some of it back soon according to the Fargoer. About a quarter of the tonnage they sent out."

"Oh." Lee was stunned thinking of ships lost.

"A DSBP, two cruisers and two destroyers, gone" Jesus elaborated and made a short >ppritt<raspberry with the tip of his tongue. That wasn't very nice. "The news has not hit the public yet, but when it does the USNA is going to look pretty bad. They have also been told they are not welcome in Fargone and now New Japan. We got all this from the Fargone envoy."

"I never asked anybody to die for me," Lee repeated, deeply upset.

"It's not just about you Lee. It's the principle of the thing. You don't snatch children and you don't crap on your solemn treaty and show yourselves liars to the world. Wars have been fought for much less. How can the other treaty holders trust them now?" Jesus asked.

* * *

"New Japan control, this is the Nation of Red Tree Heavy Cruiser Retribution. Requesting docking and we will be seeking repair and fueling. We request ground liberty for our crew and landing rights for our shuttles." There was still considerable light lag.

"Retribution, This is Traffic Control. You may enter trailing orbit on our station. We are not certain we can offer docking and other services due to your at war status. We will consult with political authority. We also have very limited facilities for Derf. What is the credit source of your ship please?"

"We are charging all ship services to my personal accounts, Gordon of Red Tree, Bank of Derfhome, or The Bank of Ceres at Sol. I will stand a bond for the behavior of my crew on liberty. We have a majority of Human crew, but the Derf crew are why I wanted shuttle landing privileges. They can carry us more comfortably."

"And if the authority says you are not welcome?" Control asked.

"It is your home," Gordon said in Japanese. "We would not presume to intrude unwelcomed," he assured the man. He switched back to Standard and said in English, "We have fuel sufficient to jump to another system with fueling services. We need not put you in an embarrassing position with the North Americans by pleading necessity."

The controller didn't react to his own language at all. But he made a small bow for the first time and assured Gordon he would relate it all to his superiors.

"I thank you," Gordon said and bowed exactly equally, as near as he could judge.

"You are playing him like a harp aren't you?" Thor asked, making little plucking motions. "Now if they turn you away the implication is they are afraid of offending the Americans."

"Do you think so?" Gordon asked, innocently. "Interesting."

* * *

Media Headlines

New York Times/web - Admiral Benson dead - fleet disaster.

OutSystem Gazette/subscribers - Fargone sends envoy over hostilities in-system.

Destroyer Twelve Palms reported seized. - Second warship lost to capture.

Jane's Weekly / Deep Space - First Deep Space Battle Platform lost. – Expert doesn't believe reports of Battleship loss. Destroyer crew awaits repatriation – Three elect to not return.

Beltway Reporter/web - Third Secretary quits – quotes officials racist remarks.

* * *

"This is infuriating," the President raged, looking at the media summaries. "We are styled the bully and inept in all the foreign press. The domestic press is just ignoring it except printing official press releases carefully labeled as such without comment. We cranked the pressure up and can't get a single apologist. It is not worth one young woman and appeasing the state of California. We need to burn the judge on this with civil rights charges and send this girl back. Get the whole affair concluded as expeditiously as possible."

The Attorney General looked like a deer in the headlights with no verbal response. DoD was a poker face opposite him refusing to look at the President.

"OK, what is going on?" the President growled. Something stank.

"The judge is dead," the AG admitted. "Two days ago, he ate his pistol at home in his condo. We didn't know it but he was a terminal cancer patient. He was in a lot of pain."

"Who discovered him? Did he leave any kind of note? Especially anything bearing on the case? Was the girl an issue?"

"He was found by an FBI entry team, but they got there about ten minutes after an Office of Naval Intelligence team left, with the memory module from the judge's computer."

"That is based entirely on the testimony of the doorman," Defense said. "We have no records of an ONI team being ordered there."

"What about the FBI? What did they say?" The President asked scowling at them. "What were they doing there?"

"They were trying to find out where the California system fostered this girl. The court has been very obstructive and refused to release juvenile records. Apparently, they found out she was sent to a very rural area in northern Michigan. They proceeded to try to find her and take her into custody."

"And…Do I have to order every new tidbit until I have the whole story?" the President asked. He was getting angrier with every exchange.

"The girl was getting along with her foster family extremely well. The agents went to their home. The girl was said to be visiting at a neighbor’s. When they checked that address the family didn't exist. By the time they returned the foster home was empty and it appeared they abandoned all their possessions and fled. They are still missing. A great deal of footwork by agents found she was with another family who traveled to the Detroit metro area for several days. They were traced and intercepted on the way back north at a fuel and convenience store along the highway." He stopped and took a drink.

"So, she is in custody now?" the President was starting to tap the table with his fingertips.

He swallowed and looked uncomfortable. "No, the FBI team blocked their vehicle in and were going to arrest them when an unknown force intervened. The FBI team was all killed. Evidence at the scene indicated they were attacked with a heavy machine gun, small arms fire and grenades, probably launched from a weapon rather than hand-thrown."

"How does a negative income family just disappear?" the President asked. "Those people live hand to mouth with no real resources."

The AG just shrugged.

"And who can take out an FBI team and vanish? Do we have interstellar sleepers?" he asked in alarm. Nobody had ever suggested such a thing.

"There was one extra set of remains associated with a non-agency weapon in the building," the AG revealed. "However it was subject to explosive fragmentation and prolonged exposure to high heat. The stocks in the rear room where the corpse was found were very combustible. The station was hit with white phosphorus and the building and vehicles out front were just a shell. The remains were so completely cremated identification seems unlikely. Whoever it was is very well equipped.

"The fuel station clerk said it was a black van with dark windows and some sort of sign on the door said it was a postal vehicle. We doubt it was an official one, as none are missing. We immediately set up roadblocks in a radius beyond their possible distance of travel. Despite that and an aerial patrol searching the roads they disappeared, the same as her foster family."

"Well isn't that sweet," the President fumed.

The Secretary of Defense and the National Security Advisor looked at each other alarmed.

"No way can we allow them to keep the ships," the Sec. Defense said. The National Security Advisor was shaking his head yes. "The return of the captured ships has to be a precondition to talking with them at all!"

"So what exactly are you advising?" the President asked, steepling his hands in front of him, "Are you suggesting I bluff and tell them we are holding their little girl hostage for the ships when we don't even have her? Doesn't that course seem a bit, perilous? I can think of several ways that might go wrong," he smiled. It was not pretty.

"I still have hope we may have the girl again sometime soon," the Secretary of Defense said carefully. "I've directed all my assets to be on the watch for her and advise the FBI if they secure her. I made it very clear it was an absolute priority."

"Was one of those assets by any chance the Office of Naval Intelligence?" the President asked him."

"I'm sure they would be utilized," he said blandly. "I don't micromanage my people. I just say what goal we want and leave the details to them. When you have good people it works."

"And it keeps your hands so clean," the Attorney General said, disgusted.

* * *

"I've never seen damage like this," the engineer said, eyes big. They were standing in the hanger deck and there was an oval hole vaporized in the huge hatch about two by three meters. The edge was not even melted, just sharp-edged like it had been sheared out.

"The deck was in vacuum," Thor explained. "Otherwise it would have broken the ships back from the overpressure. It blew out the far wall of the corridor into stores and we lost a good deal of our food and some of our spare parts and repair facilities. We lost two cooks preparing lunch and an engineering tech is missing and presumed in the corridor when it opened to vacuum. The whole section of that corridor needs to be replaced from hatch to hatch."

"What is this?" the tech asked rubbing the silvery hanger wall with a gloved hand. It came off smeared with grey grit and seemed to upset him.

"Well, the beam went right through a nice little shuttle we had acquired and strapped on the deck here. We didn't have a cradle for it so we chained it down by the landing gear. There wasn't much left. The landing struts and wingtips and a bit of one of the vertical stabilizers on one wing. The steel and titanium mostly condensed into a bunch of BB shot we swept up. But the aluminum and other light metals vacuum deposited on the cool walls and unfortunately on the side of the other shuttle we were carrying. They are trying to figure out how to get it off without damaging it. The organics like rubber, plastic, crewmen, and what little fuel was onboard vaporized and vented to space. You could see clean through her before we jury-rigged a liner."

"And what did this?" the tech asked again.

Thor looked at the man closely to see if he was joking. He wasn't.

"We caught a beam from an X-head missile. You know – it sets off an H-bomb to pump an X-ray laser. The USNA Phoenix gave us this little love tap in passing."

"I thought that would just destroy a ship so nothing was left," the engineer said.

"It can. It depends on how far out the thing detonates and if it can orient the primary beam on you, or a secondary. We caught the USNA cruiser the St. Louis in Derfhome orbit with an X-head. Got in way too close, under a hundred kilometers, the main beam took it right down the long axis of the ship and it vaporized so completely there was no debris a centimeter long showing on radar after," Thor told the tech.

"This vessel did that? You vaporized a cruiser and crew?" he looked a bit uncomfortable.

"That's what war is about," Thor said as gently as he could. The man looked ready to run. "You think you can patch her up?" he asked hoping to steer the conversation away from death and destruction. The man was obviously having a rough time dealing with it. "We want a good solid repair and not too fussy about pretty. If you can tell it has been patched and blended in no biggie as long as it is solid."

"If I may suggest, the shuttle can be cleaned easily by taking it for a hot passage in the atmosphere. It's hard enough keeping insignia painted on them with ceramics. Aluminum will burn right off. As for the hole, I think we can have you fixed up there in a week."

"I'm thinking you'd personally be a hundred thousand New Yen richer," Thor offered. "If it was five days instead of seven."

"I'll certainly see what I can do," the engineer agreed quickly.

"You'll need some extra to motivate the foremen and suppliers. Here is fifty thousand to prime the pump, but you need to risk some of it to get your hundred. Up to you whether to pocket it and that is all you'll get, or shoot for the hundred." Thor handed him an attaché case.

"If I can do it in four days, would you chip in another ten?" the fellow bargained.

"Hell yeah. Do it in four I'll drop another twenty thousand on you," Thor agreed easily.

"I need to be on this now," the fellow said, "excuse me," and he left almost running.

"Gordon?" Thor said on com. "I think you better tell the crew they are subject to recall in four days. No promises, but that is the best estimate if everything goes right."

"Good work. Get everybody you can down here in two days and we'll have a service for the crew we lost. I'm staying on the beach so we'll do it luau style with an open bar. Two days should be enough for most to recover to a functional level from it."

* * *

The taxi took them through a much nicer area of Armstrong than Lee had seen before. They passed what functioned locally as a park, pedestrian entries to upscale malls and private vehicle gates to residential areas. When they turned on embassy row there were flags out front. The British embassy she could tell by the guards out front and a pair of Hinth guards in armor with strange weapons were a wonder at the next door.

"The Swiss are right around the corner," Jesus told Lee and Clare. The taxi turned and another vehicle swerved across the street and rammed them with a jolt, pushing them into the façade of the Polish Embassy. The windows on the side against the other vehicle starred with impacts. Those were not frangible rounds.

Jesus and Diana pulled both of them on the floor before the next set of shots hit. Now a new round of impacts blew the glass out. Lee saw Diana reach up and drape the horn of her weapon over the open window edge. She stayed down but swept it back and forth holding the trigger down. The noise was past her hearing range but pressed on her ears painfully. Her teeth ached and she could feel her organs inside jiggling. Outside the noise shattered the glass in the other vehicle. It also broke the globes on the street lamps and raised a din as every part and piece touched by the beam tried to tear itself apart.

When Diana let up there was a man screaming she hadn't been able to hear before. Jesus raised up and blasted away with a shotgun. The first round cut off the screaming and he fired three more in quick succession.

"That settled the near ones but there is another car pulling in behind this one. Lee, crawl around the corner and seek shelter with whoever will let you in. We'll hold them," Diana promised.

Lee grabbed Clare's belt and half dragged, half propelled her along the sidewalk to the corner. She stood and ran for the Hinth embassy. The guards were watching the corner intently but hadn't left their post to investigate.

She spread her fingers and looked at the guard through them. "We seek shelter. Our guards were ambushed before we could get to the Swiss embassy. There are assassins seeking to harm us. Let us in."

"What does that have to do with us, little Human? It is none of our affair what those unnamed to the Hinth do to each other."

"I am not unnamed to the Hinth," she said angrily. "I am Lee Anderson and I talk to the explorer Ha-bob-bob-brie face to face unveiled, like this," she said dropping her hand. "We drank and mourned lost kin and shipmates together on Derfhome station and he was one hell of a lot more the gentleman than you and this other feathered bastard," Lee yelled at him. He actually took a step back shocked. There was a new flurry of gunfire around the corner.

"Step into the alcove little one. Perhaps there is something owed," He was talking rapidly into a com mic. Suddenly his eyes got even bigger. "Take them inside," he told the other Hinth. "I shall give aid to her bodyguards." He rushed out, strange rifle at the ready.

"Follow," his companion said and turned inside. They immediately had to press against the wall, as six Hinth in battle gear ran out. The last four carried a big weapon with a horn, that looked like Diana's but it took all four to carry it. The door slammed shut behind them.

They followed the guard down the hall and he opened a door. "You will be safe here," he said waving them in, "The six go to guard the entry. The room is furnished for Humans to sit, there is com, and somebody will see to your comfort and bring news."

The sound of gunfire out front reached faintly down the hall. Lee turned to tell the Hinth they were set, but he was gone and the door closed.

* * *

Earl stood still in the tree line and looked up and down the creek carefully. It vanished into the woods to his left, small enough the trees formed a canopy over it. To his right, it widened and crossed a beach into Lake Superior. It appeared clear. There was no Human color or movement, no untoward sound or scent of insect repellant, or cigarette smoke or soap. He waded into the clear water almost knee-deep and started filling two plastic jugs. It looked clean but they would need to boil it to be safe. When he turned around there was a young woman standing between him and the trees. She had on a camo jumpsuit with com gear on her ears and a brace of pistols worn cross draw.

"Mr. Hanson, I compliment you. You are a very difficult man to find when you put your mind to disappearing."

"So, how did I mess up?" Earl asked.

"I have your pictures and somebody at the park store remembered your face. It was old fashioned detective work, interviewing enough people, asking the right questions. Most people think you left the state and are holed up with friends or relatives somewhere. Nobody believed you could be hiding out in the woods with two kids."

Earl raised an eyebrow surprised. "The kids love it. They's be happy if we stayed out here all summer. They are fishing and doing stuff they used to beg to go do a few days a year. I used to camp here as a boy. There is an escarpment back in the woods. The trees grow right up against the face and there is a shelter like a shallow cave open to the east that hides you from the sky. You have water here and if you walk to the store they assume you are from the state campground, so strangers don't cause any surprise. I still can't believe I walked past you and didn't see you or hear you," he said, chagrined.

"I know the woods and how to be still too. And this helps a bit," She touched by her collar and the camo disappeared and the jumpsuit became one with the woods. She walked around a boulder and approached. The edges blurred a bit in motion, but she was like a face and hands floating in the air.

"Damn, that is downright creepy. So are we under arrest?" Earl asked, crestfallen.

"Arrest?" she asked shocked. "I'm sorry, I was so thrilled at finding you, I lost sight of how it looks from your perspective. I'm an employee of Michigan Associates, a security firm contracted to your foster daughter, not law enforcement. They are still looking for you but in all the wrong places. We are instructed to offer any help we may extend. Anything from handing you some cash, to arranging your removal to a different country or even a different world. Miss Anderson has lands off-world and considerable resources at your disposal. We can give you whatever support you wish, see you safe, but not snatch you and impose a solution."

"Well!" he said with a big grin, letting that word encompass everything, "why don't you follow me? We can sit and have a cup of coffee and discuss our options," Earl allowed.

* * *

"Gordon, there is a fellow here asking to speak with you," Thor said from the Retribution. "He asked for you by your full legal name, so I was impressed enough to call you. Human, male, middle-aged, fairly small, soft little hands, not visibly armed. I don't think he is an assassin," Thor judged. "He doesn't move like a fighter. If I had to guess I would say some sort of professor. Well yes, I could just ask him that, hang on."

"Are you a lawyer?" Thor inquired.

"No sir, I am a design engineer of several kinds and a college professor as you correctly guessed. How did you know?"

"Who else wears a tweed jacket with elbow patches, tennis shoes, and a bow tie?" Thor asked. "Good thing you aren't a lawyer. He said to shoot you dead and hide the body if you were a lawyer."

"Very funny," the fellow said, smiling.

"Yeah, so funny he phrased it as a direct order," Thor said. "Since I don't have to kill you, he'd like to know the purpose of your visit."

"I wish to sell him a weapons system for your destroyer. I'm having a tough time breaking into the market and would like to sell it to him at a substantial discount to get a demo copy in service for promotional purposes. I feel you are also much more likely to actually use it given you are at war. You can't buy that sort of advertising at any price."

"Yeah. Yeah? OK." Thor put the headset down he had cupped to one ear. "Gordon says he has his butt firmly planted in a lounge, under a pleasant cabana and drinking pineapple juice with rum, watching the kids play in the breakers. If you want to talk to him I am instructed to run you down in the ship's shuttle and he will hold a chaise lounge open for you next to him for a limited time. Interested?"

"Indeed, that is entirely acceptable," the little fellow said. "I'll pick up a bottle of good Fargone rum along the way, in case he is running low. Fargone rum rivals anything Earth makes."

"Better pick up two," Thor advised. "Your customer is a seven-hundred-kilo carnivore, with a raging metabolism. He knocks the stuff back in frightening quantities."

* * *

"Where in the hell did you get a Hawaiian shirt?" Gordon asked, staring at it fascinated.

"I collect antique Aloha shirts," he revealed. He had on Bermudas and some odd sandals.

"Are those…?" Gordon hesitated to ask.

"Yes, they are genuine Birkenstocks," he said, pleased to have them noticed. "And these are two bottles of Fargone rum, labeled in our usual unsubtle manner as Poison Pirate's Piss. I thought that hugely appropriate for you. If I can get some ice, it is entirely too fine to corrupt with mix."

Gordon gave one of the cabana boys a little wave. "We're privateers," he corrected again. "I hear you have something to sell us?"

* * *

Jesus and Diana fired on the attackers from inside the ruined cab and the driver and his assistant fired around the outside of the vehicle, but having the mass of three wrecked cabs between them rendered the fire ineffective from both sides. It was a stalemate.

Then the Hinth showed up.

"Retreat to our door gentle beings," the huge bird-like alien urged them. "We have a team on the door and help on the way." The Hinth climbed in the cab with Jesus and Diana and shouldered his weapon. When one of the attackers popped up to take a shot at the Hinth, the alien pivoted like an industrial robot with blurred speed. His weapon gave a deep hum and the Human exploded in a ball of red mist. "Yesss," he hissed to himself, "let's play peek-a-boo slow ones."

Diana and Jesus took his invitation quickly. Outside they yelled to the other two agents to follow their retreat. They did a quick crawl to the corner and Jesus took a position with his shotgun braced on the corner until the other three passed him.

"Join your friends, please," a voice said overhead. He looked up and back. Two of the aliens were pressed to the wall right behind him. "We will recall the one in the auto," they said.

Jesus jogged towards the door until he heard a warbled cry from the two at the corner. The fellow in the car retreated around the corner with a clatter of claws on pavement. There was a fusillade of shots and the alien jerked with one arm pierced before he reached shelter. Jesus squatted against the wall, weapon ready to cover him.

"Come!" he urged as he ran past.

Jesus looked back at the corner. A pair of Human hands holding a stubby machine gun projected beyond the corner in an attempt to spray around the corner without exposing himself. The one Hinth was waiting, with what looked like an extra-long Katana held overhead in both hands and sliced through both wrists. The scream had not even died out before the other Hinth reached low past the sword wielder and tossed a grenade around the corner.

When both Hinth turned and ran Jesus did too. The grenade went off when they were halfway to the door with a muted thud. They still almost beat him to the door. The fancy ledges, planters, and false columns on the front of the embassy provided all sorts of cover to dive behind. Jesus dove for the ground and slid behind a Greek column. The one Hinth and his driver both appeared to be wounded and were back closest to the door. The Hinth had a big tube laid across a concrete planter aimed at the corner.

When three men in full combat rigs came around the corner Jesus expected them to shoot. The men were spraying suppressive fire and sprinting for the door. Jesus pulled back, completely behind the pillar as bullets pocked the facade. It was only fifty meters or a bit more to the corner. The Hinth behind the planter was sprawled full length on the ground, completely hidden. Jesus was about ready to scream at him to shoot the damn thing. One of the others must have finally given him a sign and he triggered the weapon.

Jesus wanted to scream but the air was too thick. He opened his mouth to try and that was a mistake. The pressure blasted behind his cheekbones, bloated his face, and blurred his vision. The bones in his ears beat an unholy rhythm against each other until he had no clue which way was up or down. When it finally ended he found he had pissed himself. He just laid there, joints hurting, panting, and listening to his ears ring. And he was behind the weapon.

"I was cheated. They call this useless pile of crap a sonic cannon," Diana said, throwing her belled weapon on the ground in disgust. "I might as well have used a boat horn. Now that, that is a sonic cannon," she said admiring the Hinth weapon. Her voice sounded like it was down a long pipe to his tortured ears. The only thing making him feel better was the Hinth didn't seem in much better shape than Humans. One was holding his head slowly rocking back and forth, another had made a mess and was trying to scrape it off his armor.

One tough Hinth was vertical already. "Come, can one of you assist me to identify these Humans?"

Jesus looked at Diana hopeful, but she waved him on. He got up painfully and stood without any support, but none too steady. "Don't you think that was a bit of overkill?" he asked the Hinth.

"We never used it before," he said cocking his head over sharply. What did that mean in a Hinth? "There really was no place to test it. Next time we may cut the power back a bit. That was full power," the Hinth confided, like it was a big revelation.

They staggered down to the three who were only four meters from the horn when it sounded. A Human with sonically shattered bones was really ugly. They were more or less melted looking. They spread out flat like a bladder. Jesus cut the pocket of one laying face down and retrieved his wallet. There were two more down by the corner. The Hinth knew what they were doing holding fire until they caught them all.

The lanky Hinth hung over his shoulder as he opened the wallet. It was a badge carrier and had agency ID. "I don't read English very well. What is ONI?"

Chapter 46

"I am Happenstance Jones Cohen," the little fellow said and set down his drink long enough to retrieve a business card for Gordon.

Gordon figured the man had likely heard every variation of opinion on the odd names Fargoers favored and decided it didn't really matter to him if there was a reason his parents chose that particular word.

"The system I designed is a projectile weapon. Physically it is a hundred-millimeter tube about seven meters long with a lining of electronics and a power accumulator that has to be in somewhat close proximity to the tube. If you are able to spare the output of one reactor on a vessel for long periods it can charge itself off existing sources. If you need near peak output on a regular basis you'd need an extra reactor and to adjust your fuel supply and consumption appropriately."

"Why is it such a power hog?" Gordon asked.

"Well the projectile is accelerated to a significant fraction of C," Cohen said. "So it takes that much energy because of the basic physics involved."

"Define 'significant fraction'," Gordon said.

"The smallest projectile it will shoot is about the size of a grain of rice. It masses fifty milligrams, but it has a velocity of thirty percent of C. Larger projectiles are slower, limited by the accumulators, and the length of the tube. But they carry the same energy of course. It throws a pellet of frozen gas the opposite direction to limit recoil, then evaporates it."

"So, what is the advantage?" Gordon wasn't impressed yet.

"It fills the gap between missiles and beam weapons. It can be aimed very precisely, so you can engage a target out well into the missile envelope. It can be evaded of course, but to do so they must know you are firing at them and no current radars or defensive systems can detect or intercept this small and fast a projectile. Most of it is external too - easily installed. Future systems can be modified to shoot smaller faster projectiles, or larger slower ones depending upon what our service experience with this first system dictates," Cohen said.

"How does it work?" Gordon asked, frowning.

"How much physics do you know?" Happenstance asked with a smile.

"OK, not enough I'm sure," Gordon admitted. "How much does it cost?"

"Fifteen million dollars Ceres, or two-hundred-ten ounces Au and the battle plot of any actual use you make of the weapon for advertising purposes. I intend to send the gross description to Jane's, but I won't do that until its use is firmly public.

"That's cheaper than an X-head missile!" Gordon hadn't expected that at all.

"Indeed it is and the next customer will pay more," Cohen assured him. "But I'm writing off some of the components, that were paid for with a Fargone grant. I've approached several governments with this system, but the general peace that has been holding with the success of the Claims Commission treaties has been very bad for investing in advanced weapons systems. It has quite dampened the usual research and procurement cycle."

"Not everybody would see that as a bad thing," Gordon reminded him.

"Yes, yes I can understand that to a degree," Happenstance said, nodding his head. "But if we do eventually meet a very aggressive advanced race out there, with whom no compromise is possible, we shall be happy for any advances we can make in weapons."

"And Derf don't count for evil alien monsters?"

"Oh please," Cohen said dismissively, "you are allies, with who some Humans had a temporary falling out. I'm talking about the sort of conflict that would have left Derfhome and Earth both uninhabitable by now. If you wished, North America could be wiped clean clear down to the bedrock. Tell me I'm wrong," he invited.

"True. The means exists. We want a certain result," Gordon said. "Not just to kill and destroy."

"If they had not snatched your daughter and reneged on their treaty, you would have never been roused to make war, would you? And you aren't against Humans per se. You have Human crew! If the Hinth had done the same, you'd be bringing the wrath of the gods down on their heads, wouldn't you?" Cohen asked.

"You've got all that pretty straight actually," Gordon admitted. "Go ahead and have them install this thing in the Sharp Claws."

* * *

The number of agents involved in rescuing Lee and her friends had expanded until Richard Dixon was sucked back in. He was reporting to his boss:

"The Williamsons had no desire to leave Earth. When I asked him where he wanted to go he just said, "Somewhere warm."

"Well yeah. Living in Northern Michigan could do that."

"We bought them a house on Grand Cayman and resident rights. He indicated an interest in acquiring a sailboat. I think it will work out," Dixon said.

"Huh, I've read the folder on this guy. If he has a boat he'll be smuggling in a month."

"He doesn't need the money…but no, you're probably right," Dixon agreed.

* * *

 The local militia commander was furious, the intersection behind the three intertwined smashed vehicles was riddled with holes. They were six levels down and nowhere near vacuum, but the scale of lawbreaking on prohibited weapons was staggering. The fact all the responsible parties were dead, left him with nowhere to vent his wrath. Jesus and the guard captain stood together, trying to placate him. Militia with armbands filled the street.

"Nobody can find any holes the direction your guys were shooting," he admitted reluctantly. "What are those weapons," the fellow asked, nodding at the guards who were back on duty at the front door.

"Masers," The Hinth captain assured him. "They heat water very effectively but absolutely will not damage a pressure holding structure."

"OK, and the sonic weapon is legal," the Loonie allowed, "even if it did bust the street lighting for three blocks and every piece of china in the Polish Embassy's kitchen."

"We deeply regret that and will be happy to compensate the city and any private parties," the Hinth captain offered.

"Somebody said you used a grenade though," the militiaman accused.

"Indeed we did, but it is an Israeli model that blows a metallic grit, rather than large pieces of shrapnel. It will not breach pressure and beyond three meters it will do little but sting on bare skin," the Hinth told him. Inside three meters what it did was too ugly to discuss.

"Anything else I should know about?" the militia commander asked, fishing, but he was wearing down and somewhat mollified.

"The only other weapon we used was this," the alien told him. He reached back and drew from behind his head. The sword was like a katana, but proportioned for the lanky aliens, it was almost about a third longer than one made for a Human. It also was almost straight, but the steel was patterned in complex layers and the edge case hardened in a wavy silver line like traditional Human weapons. The handle was obviously a double-handed affair. It was beautiful.

The militiaman took a deep breath and let it out. "I will report your defense was entirely legal and necessary," he conceded. "If I seemed rude or distrusting please forgive me. This breach and the scale of it are very disturbing. I have no idea what the repercussions are going to be, but the general population is going to want somebody to learn to whistle without air. I'm going to recommend at the end of my report they toss the Norte Americanos out on their ear and close their embassy."

"I applaud that," the alien told him. "The Hinth have been awaiting an appropriate reason to end their relationship with the USNA also and the onerous conditions of our treaty with Man," he confided. "I believe sending their soldiers to assault our embassy and wound both Hinth and the arms men of one name bound to us, is more than sufficient reason to separate ourselves. I am heartened your volunteers flooded to our door, even though it was over so quickly. I do understand the brassards they wear correctly?" he asked the commander.

"Yes, they are all citizens by choice and come out of their own free will."

"There is a vast difference between these," he waved at the dead bodies, "and you. I think we know enough now to stop being so stand-offish. There are less than a double dozen of Humans whose name we have acknowledged and list in our clan books. I am trained to bear it, yet it is most distressing to speak bare-faced to you. I would call you comrade and offer my name if you dare bind yourself to one so different in body, but in common cause against such as these," he said, and waved again at the ruined corpses.

"I am John Lott," the man replied. He seemed bright and aware what he was doing was not casual. "I am not the head of either the militia or Armstrong, but speaking for myself, I welcome your friendship and will try to honor it. We are far from perfect. We may disappoint you if you expect us to be everything you want," he cautioned.

"I am Tri-til-tit-talo," the Hinth offered, "and I see your face brother. I have not found perfection in my own life mate. The Hinth, in all our glory, have not quite attained perfection either. We'll muddle through somehow though," he predicted.

* * *

"Are you familiar with how early rockets were built in stages?" Gordon asked his Astrogator McKenzie.

"Yes, I did a report on historic Human vehicles in school. I even built a model of a Saturn rocket for class. It stood near as tall as me and the teacher gave me a lousy assessment on it, because I didn't include figures to give scale to it and it did not function at all. Some butt kisser built a working steam locomotive, that made everybody else look bad," he remembered. This amused Thor enough to get a good snicker.

"I'm thinking we could do the same thing with the Retribution carrying the Sharp Claws." Gordon proposed. "We need to grapple like we did going into Fargone, release the Sharp Claws and pull back so she can proceed to jump and back into the system. She can make the jump with very little expenditure of fuel and have a full fuel load to accelerate into the next system."

"Accelerate into the system?" Thor asked, uncomfortable at the thought.

"Yeah, I was thinking a very fast transit would allow you to pass through a system and release weapons faster than their defense is designed to react or intercept," Gordon said.

"You would be very low on fuel, after an aborted run with such a heavy grappled object. Indeed you might not have enough for another run and deceleration into another system. That might be embarrassing if they send a response back through after the Sharp Claws' emergence. You'd be trapped." Thor said.

"What if I have a freighter with a load of fuel waiting out-system? We drop the Sharp Claws, decelerate as she pulls ahead to jump, to get out of her jump disturbance, and then continue decelerating to meet a prepositioned tanker far out on the fringes of the system? We fuel up there and are in a good position tactically if a force does jump in.

"Nobody builds a tanker," Thor said. "The few times a ship has gotten stuck in a system with no fuel facilities, they've always jumped a ship with capacity in, to share fuel to extricate them."

"So the transfer equipment already exists," Gordon pointed out. "We have two freighters. How hard can it be to convert one to a tanker of sorts? It doesn't have to be economically viable for moving bulk fuel to sell. This is military logistics, not market-driven.

McKenzie considered it for a bit. "If that's all you want to do, we can buy some cryogenic tanks for external grappling. They do ship other volatiles besides fuel. We can buy a standard design. We should buy a number and a freighter can use them to meet us in unpopulated systems for refueling, or we can straight out mount them to our fighting vessels to extend their range. If we empty them, we can always leave them somewhere one of the freighters can go pick them up. We can leave caches of full tanks for that matter."

"The ship will handle like a pig with full tanks strapped on," Thor reminded them.

"I like it," Gordon said, "It leaves the holds open to carry other supplies if they don't mass too much. We can send consumables and even personnel."

"Do you have a particular target in mind? Maybe one of their naval depots? Tau Ceti has a naval yard but I'd hate to make a fast transit of the system unless it was at right angles to the plane of the system. It's too full of crap to blast through the debris disk," McKenzie warned.

"I was thinking Sol," Gordon revealed.

"You're nuts."

"You're nuts, sir." Gordon corrected McKenzie.

"Have you had these suicidal thoughts long?" McKenzie asked him. "Have you been skipping your meds, or changed them recently? Your friends really do care," he assured him.

"No, really, think about it." Gordon invited.

"I am. Not only is the strength of the USNA in the system, every nation that has even one armed space vessel, has it in the Sol system most of the time. You are going to have USNA, Alliance of South American States, Indian, British, European Union, Chinese, Japanese, Australian Confederation, Russian, Swiss, South East Asian Economic Union, and Persian Empire ships all around Earth. They all tend to run exercises in system, as it is cheaper, so you always have ships here and there out to Jupiter and occasionally beyond," McKenzie said.

"Bah," Gordon waved it away. "With all those factions elbow to elbow, they are going to be very reluctant to fire on anything until they are sure it is hostile to them. They live there and the last thing they want is to do is an 'oops' that will provoke hostilities right where they live. It is way too easy to start a war by mistake and much harder to stop them.

"Besides, how many of those ships are manned and provisioned and on alert? Most are owned just to get their country in the Claims Commission Defense Fleet so they get a little bigger chunk of the action. They only spend the money to use them when they are called up. I'm more concerned about some orbital defenses, that are operational constantly, but few ships."

"All right, assuming you can make a very fast pass and not get your butt shot off, what sort of target do you have in mind? I'd resign before I will target civilians. I think most of the Human crew would resign before they'd drop a rock on Vancouver. If you could lay a small one right on the Congress in session maybe, but we have not yet seen sufficient jackassery to warrant a strategic response. Not until they bombard Red Tree, or seize Derf." McKenzie said.

"Most of the Derf would walk for that too," Gordon assured him. "I had in mind targeting one of the orbital forts and the USNA naval shipyards at L4. They have a DSBP that has been building three years, that's almost complete in a surround dock and are assembling two destroyers floating free."

"Do a three-stage," Thor suggested. "Strap external tanks on the destroyer. Toss her at the jump point. Use the external tanks to accelerate into the system. Do your attack and jump out the other side with almost full internal tanks to decelerate, or jump again and evade. Because sure as hell somebody is going to be following pissed off."

"We need to read the almanacs," McKenzie counseled. "If you time the entry we can approach from behind the moon, so the fort can't read us directly. Skim the moon close and aim to skim the Earth as close as possible to the atmosphere. Fire on the fort from underneath them. I bet they don't even have that written into their automated responses. Drop the empty tanks on a collision course for the shipyard and fire on it with conventional nukes."

"If you are crossing the fort's orbit, shoot at it as soon as you clear the Lunar horizon with this new peashooter of yours. Then drop your tanks on a collision course with the shipyard, to give them something to shoot at. At the velocity they will be going they aren't really decoys, they are significant kinetic weapons. If they don't blow them to plasma just busting them up will be self-defeating. It just means they will almost ensure some debris will hit them," Thor said.

"In that case put some charges on them and make sure they break up," McKenzie advised. "I'm not even sure we need to waste any missiles. Damn things are expensive."

"You're right," Gordon agreed. "But we have two launch tubes on the Sharp Claws, so I very much want to waste two conventional nukes to make sure that DSBP is dead and maybe the fort if the pellet doesn't do it. We'll save the X-heads."

"Launch them behind the blown tanks in coast and sprint mode," Thor advised. "That shooting through a screening action really worked before. Set them not to maneuver until they are just far enough out they will catch up with the tank debris, not pass and present a target out front of it."

"Oh, add a few kilos of chaff to the charges blowing the tanks too," McKenzie added.

"We'll read the orbital almanac and see when everything will line up with an entry point and an exit to a safe system on the far side. It's going to be hard to find two systems close enough to Sol, that have no USNA presence to prevent us from carrying this out," Gordon decided.

"I'd like to sit the arms board on this raid," Thor requested. He was still bothered he hadn't had a shot at the cruiser.

"Well we'll be going like bat out of hell leaving Sol, so that allows us to do a jump to systems that might be a low probability jump at normal velocities," McKenzie said.

"Good point. Look in the catalog and see what systems are too marginal for normal jump and see what the math looks like at higher velocity. If we can pick one that we can't be followed, without the pursuit running their tanks dry, that would be sweet.

"You know if we can do this it is going to make Happenstance very happy. A new weapon system used and ships attacking at velocities way above normal transit speeds. The navies will have to spend a lot of new money to upgrade and invent new systems to deal with it. My bet is he'll be in hog heaven and grab a big chunk of the loot. See what you can buy us for tanks and what can be fabricated on short notice."

"Gordon, I think you should do some psych ops before you do an Earth raid," McKenzie urged him. "You should formally give them a chance to surrender. There's not a chance in hell they will accept, but besides the joy of irritating them, it makes you look better, and if the raid succeeds it makes them look even more foolish and less able to complain."

* * *

"Come, let us tell your Mistress what we have been able to arrange and see if it pleases her," Tri-til-tit-talo invited Jesus. Jesus nodded a yes, and waved Diana to come along. They followed the Hinth back into the street from their meeting at the Swiss embassy. "You can call on Diana here Tri, anytime you can't get my attention. She has the same ranking and authority as I do in Blackwater, even if I am technically lead on this assignment. Next job she may be leading me."

"Tri?" Tri-til-tit-talo asked. "Are you abbreviating my name?" he inquired.

"Uh, yeah, it was just automatic, unthinking really, if it doesn't offend. We usually use nicknames when we work closely. I even abbreviate Diana down to Di sometimes, even if it isn't a mouthful. Some of the crew call me Chewy and I'm not even sure where they got that. It doesn't really save time. If it seems too familiar tell us," Jesus said.

Tri looked at them with that half-open beak look he was pretty sure was laughter or at least a smile. "With the Hinth familiarity is pretty much binary. You are either tribe and clan, or 'other'. Perhaps with a dozen generations and long association, we will start to have shades of grey between the two. For now, I will take this nickname for a strange new sort of affectionate familiarity. However, how we express it may shock you. For example, if my life mate reckons you are clan, she would feel free to send her sister to stay at your house. We have a guest like that right now, what you would call a cousin."

"In town playing the tourist or something?" Diana asked.

"In town, from a far rural area, to finish her secondary education and likely work an internship. We expect her to be with us eight of our years. Maybe more if she gets work close by and we continue to get along. Some might urge her to move on after her need is past, if she were disagreeable, but she has grown to be like a daughter to us."

"Not so strange," Diana allowed. "I know some African cultures that would do exactly the same thing."

"That is good to know we are not so different then," Tri-til-tit-talo said.

They entered the front door of the Hinth embassy now, with just a slight bow from the guards. There was no Human nonsense with presenting paperwork.

Tri rapped lightly on the door and there was no response. He tried the handle and it was locked. Finally, he took some kind of electronic key and crossed the handset in an X pattern. When he pushed the door in, there was a clatter of falling cans. Lee had stacked the soda from the fridge against the door so they would act as an alarm. She and Clare were sleeping on the couch in a puppy pile, but by the time the door was fully open she was looking over the sights of the nine-millimeter with bleary eyes, even before the cans stopped rolling. As half-awake as she was, Jesus noted Lee had the hammer back and the weapon pointed rock steady, center of mass, at the only male Human target. He'd have rather it wasn't him. At least her finger was not in the trigger guard yet. Jesus showed her his palms and waited for her to wake up fully before he took another step closer.

"Ah, you survived," Lee said and seemed pleased. She pointed the pistol at the ceiling and dropped the hammer safe. "What," she asked, "was that horrible noise a while ago?"

Tri gestured at the cans scattered on the floor. "This little one is wise beyond her years," he told them. "She makes her own security, instead of depending on others. No wonder our explorer gave her his name."

"We have a free ride to Fargone for the four of us, on a Fargone fast courier if you like," Jesus told her. "We can go directly to it from here. It leaves in about two hours and we and the ambassador fill it one short of max life support capacity, so it will be crowded," he warned. "We will have to share rooms and bunk together, or in shifts. Want to accept his hospitality?"

"And we are free to go on to Derfhome?" Lee asked.

"Certainly."

"You aim to come along, or you turning back from Fargone?" she asked Jesus.

"We can discuss that. Neither of us intend to return to the Earth system to live or work, ever," he emphasized. "If we don't continue you can hire all sorts of security on Fargone."

"Sounds good. What does the Fargoer get out of it?" Lee asked, suspiciously.

"At this point, he may well do it just to irritate the North Americans," Jesus allowed. "They are sort of miffed the USNA decided to have a space battle in their system, uninvited."

"OK, I can understand that." Lee looked at Tri-til-tit-talo and lifted her spread fingers for a veil to look at him. He waved them away. "You are known, little Human. No need for you and yours to ever veil the face with our race."

"Thank you. I just wanted to thank you for your shelter. I owe you. Call on me any time I can be of assistance," Lee promised. "I am not without resources."

"We will, that has value, to have some Human friends, because we are about to make many Humans very unhappy with us," Tri-til-tit-talo told her. "We have been waiting for cause to abrogate the defective treaty with which we were saddled. Attacking our embassy and injuring our own and allies, is quite sufficient cause to set it aside."

"Yeah, my dad Gordon told me you guys got a bum deal," Lee agreed. "Good for you. Is there any chance we can get a quick shower before we get in this courier? It doesn't sound like it will have very luxurious accommodations."

"Hinth do not shower, but we have a bay in maintenance for washing down equipment," Tri offered. "I believe it could serve the same function."

"Lead on," Lee said. "It can't be any worse than a Derf shower."

Nobody ever did explain what the noise was.

* * *

Headlines and Shorts

Out System Observer/web - Hinth denounce treaty over assault of embassy.

Daily Lunatic - ONI credentials and dead agents displayed to media. - Lunar Republic ends diplomatic relations with North America." "No stable relationship possible with liars and child thieves – Moon spoks says. - Armstrong terminus closed to USNA military on civilian flight transfers.

New York Times - Hinth expel Governor.

Financial Times/web - Futures irrational on long supply fears, expert says.

War God Word/web - Martians support USNA curbs on 'animal rights' – says cultural minister about sapient alien races.

Gulf Gazette/web - Persian Chief Imam says Hinth and Derf ritually unclean like dogs.

The clipping service was returning huge files to the Mothers. The web bots returned hundreds of mirrored articles and translations that had to be condensed.

* * *

"Look at this," the analyst said. "The Bank of Derfhome just posted a public filing for five contracts, for space rated cryogenic tankage, to Gordon of Red Tree. Two contracts in ounces silver and three in dollars Ceres. Two for immediate delivery and three for fabrication. What in the hell do they need to haul around in that much volume?"

"I have no idea," the head of Fargone intelligence admitted. "But I want you to form a team with an aerospace engineer, a military tactician, a military historian, and ask them. The last time he let an order for pressure suits we had no clue with what audacity he would use them. Let's try to stay ahead of the clues this time."

* * *

"We have a new communication from Red Tree," the Undersecretary of State Dawson announced. He had an excellent poker face, so there was no gauging it good or bad.

"How are we confirming it is actually from them?"

"We'll get a data drone from Derfhome when it is posted as a public document and published in their legal news, just like the declaration of war. We should have it in two days."

"OK, pending confirmation what do they have to say? Paraphrase it."

"They offer us an opportunity to return to the Treaty of Man, if we will amend it to attach strict penalties for non-compliance at a personal level. We return Lee Anderson – attach full Derf name – to them in good health and condition. We make a public apology for being lying scum and promise not to do it again. They graciously don't ask for any damages or reparations. They keep the ships and any more they can get if we screw around too long saying yes. And they will graciously take no further aggressive, that's the word he used, aggressive action against us. He intimated if we decline their kind offer they are growing impatient and intend to get really nasty, not keep playing around. Do we even have the girl to return? If what I read on this ONI thing on Luna is true was she there? Did they track her there?"

"How would I know who they tracked where, when they are all most inconveniently dead?," the Secretary asked irritated.

"Oh…Well, what should I say then?"

"Screw the furry bastard," the Secretary said.

"You want that to be prettied up in diplomatic language?"

"No, it's plain enough."

"Want to run it past the President?"

"Trust me. I know his mind on this matter."

Chapter 47

"Diana and I will take a sleep shift overlapping both the Ambassador and you girls. That way we can be available to both, yet not clutter up the lounge all at once."

The lounge was two love seats, facing a flat screen in a V. It also served as the dining area and can be configured to have a table between the love seats.

"You two are small and slept together in the Hinth embassy. Do you have any trouble bunking together?" Jesus asked.

"I don't," she lifted an inquiring eyebrow to Clare, who shook her head no.

"Good, the crew shares a bunk built with access to the flight deck. They have a head, but come back here to shower. We have limited distillation capacity, so please wet yourself and soap up, then rinse off, not stand and let it run, or somebody after you may get cut off standing there all soapy. If you listen to music use headphones. This is a barebones vessel and they didn't have a mass allowance for soundproofing. Meals are all prepackaged. We won't run out, but it's first-come, first-served. It's very bad form to ask a favorite be reserved for you. We have more than you can eat, but it may not be what you like. There are such things as crackers and granola bars in the cupboard and salt and pepper and plenty of the pilot's friend – hot sauce. Coffee and tea. There are a few hundred videos in the memory module of the com set. Most travelers carry their own. A few of them are pretty raunchy," he warned, "You can tell from the titles."

"Any questions?"

"Would you ask the crew if they would let me see the flight deck sometime during the flight?" Lee asked.

"I will, but that is entirely up to their discretion," Jesus told her.

"How long until we get to Fargone?" Clare asked.

"Eighteen days, fourteen jumps, and three refueling stops. We could go faster if we cut through a couple of USNA dominated systems, but the Ambassador doesn't want to do that. We will be almost constantly at one and a quarter-g. Most people don't find that oppressive. We could run at three and a half Gs and cut the time in half. You wouldn't enjoy sleeping in three and a half Gs. Most folks need to wear a positive pressure breather mask and go to a slightly richer oxy mix laying in a gel bed. Very few can move about and they do so at great danger with a special walker. They have to be athletic and pump a lot of iron in preparation. And please never ask us if we are there yet," he joked. "Good night now," he insisted and headed for his cabin.

"Come on," Lee told Clare, "In system maneuvering and run to jump, is easier in the bunk with a safety net up."

* * *

"I have an Earth-Moon line up, that will allow us to do the approach and exit you want in eighteen days. Next decent time is almost two months after that. Can you get the tanks mounted and get there in that time frame?"

"Let's ask the yard. I know I don't have enough tanks to fit the destroyer and a freighter. The best we can do is pre-position the freighter starting now, so it uses as little fuel as possible, and transfer the remainder of its fuel. We can sit and see what comes back through from Sol before we decide to sit tight, hide, or engage. If nothing comes back on us we can just grapple the freighter and return to Fargone for more work."

"Two good things. The Sharp Claws can exit the Sol system to Survey System 418. It's a twelve - nines jump at her velocity and is never attempted by manned ships from Sol. A drone can do it but they hate to use two jump drones. The other good thing is, the orbital fort and shipyard will both be over the horizon from most of North America at night when we hit them. I think we should squirt a little message straight to the news services on Luna and let them tell their North American affiliates to go outside and watch the fireworks," McKenzie suggested.

"Hmm. I think I need to appoint you as minister of propaganda," Gordon told him. "You know what you said about a drone making the transition? What do you want to bet somebody fits a jump capable drone with an X-head and makes it into a missile to fire after a retreating ship, to pursue it into the next system? Send a message to Happenstance and tell him I need to consult with him. Better we have it before somebody else thinks of it."

"And send a message to Luna and have them broadcast a coded recall to the sky for Fly Over Country. We can reposition them later after we evaluate this mission. Tell them to proceed to Bountiful, reprovision, and take shore leave and reposition if they get no other orders. Also, tell them they will now be named Ruddy Rustic. They should have the ship repainted with the new designation at Bountiful."

* * *

Headlines – News Posts

Capital Watch - USNA rejects offer to reaffirm treaty. Derf a distant irritant, government/spoks.

Mystery Lover Sheets - Young Heiress - mystery remains in Michigan massacre?

Shipping News - Lloyd's refuses to insure USNA flagged vessels at any rate. USNA allies distance themselves from hard stance.

Goods Trader Blog/net – Commodities unsettled by war uncertainty. Long metals/pharm. rise.

* * *

Running for jump from New Japan, the Retribution got one last data dump.

"Operation a success, more to follow." Jesus for BW.

"Security intimates Lee off-planet. Little info for operational security." Stanley.

"Mothers concur with plans." Nation of Red Tree.

"Crew of Red Metal reports cargo a is disposed of. Have had auxiliary equipment installed and proceeding as ordered." Thompson.

* * *

The ship finished all those twisting and rotating motions and boosted at a steady gravity and a quarter. Lee and Clare slept that deep sound sleep that comes with emotional exhaustion. Clare woke first and lay there heavier than normal, feeling the deep vibration of the drive pushing them. The cabin had put the night light on after a time with no motion. It was just enough to see without bumping into things.

Clare thought about her parents. When Lee pulled her away to the plane, her father was telling her firmly to go and grab a new life for herself. But his hand had been reluctant to let go of hers and trailed away on her arm as she slid away. Her mother has spoken the opposite, saying how she would miss her and loved her, but had put her hand flat on her back and pushed her to go with Lee. They both seemed as conflicted as she was at the moment.

She was glad she got away from Earth and what had been a narrow grubby future with little opportunity. But she was finding it hard to deal with the idea she may never see her parents again, face to face. When she thought of that, she started the deep sort of wrenching sob that comes deep from down in your guts.

It was only a few seconds of sobbing before Lee stirred and awakened.

"Hey, hey, what's the matter?" Lee asked.

"Oh, it's so stupid. I can't tell you," Clare insisted.

"It's not smart or stupid," Lee insisted. "It's how you feel," she explained. "You feel how you feel, and you may decide to be stupid or smart about it, but it rarely changes how you feel about things at the moment. Maybe much later you will decide to feel differently about it, but changing emotions is not very easy. At least that is what my mom used to tell me," she explained and squeezed Clare really hard, chin over her shoulder.

When her breathing got under control, Clare pulled back so she could see Lee's face, to talk to her. "That's really brilliant. I never heard anybody separate how you feel and how you act as two separate things. It makes more sense than most people I know who want you to be guilt-ridden, if you feel different than what your head says is logical."

"Does it hurt anybody for you to feel sad?" Lee asked her.

"Put that way, no. It probably doesn't help anybody either, not even me, but it is."

"When my mom and dad died I asked my Uncle Gordon how people stand it. He said it never goes away, but it gets easier with time. I'm finding he's right. You do other things and it becomes more distant in your memory. I kind of suspect it has to, or we'd go crazy as we get older and all the bad memories add up. It helps to tell too. After I told the story a few times, about the night I was trapped in my sleeping bag with the Dinos trying to get in and eat me, I got more detached from it somehow. Want to tell me what made you cry?" Lee offered.

"It just suddenly hit me how I may never see my parents again. I still want to go, but it seems so permanent and I feel guilty a little for wanting to go," Clare explained.

"I can understand that," Lee said nodding. "Talk to me any time," she offered.

"Thank you, hug me again will you?" Clare asked.

After awhile, Clare hugged back hard and kissed her in front of her ear. She could feel her tears run down between their cheeks. It was a sudden new insight, to realize Clare in leaving her parents now depended on her. Clare was half a head taller than Lee and older looking. She hadn't clearly realized how much their natural relationship was reversed and the older girl her ward until just now. Lee wasn't sure she was ready to be that grown-up.

* * *

"This pig feels like it is pushing a mountain," Gordon complained. "I have power at eighty percent to pull one-point-three-two-g."

"That's right about what we calculated," Thor pointed out.

"I know, but experiencing it is somehow different. We are seven minutes from release. Everything still working?" Gordon asked. Gordon and Thor were in role reversal.

"Not an amber light on the board," Thor assured him. "I will bring the drive up to its lowest active setting and push away from you with attitude thrusters at ten seconds until release."

"If you don't stop humming into the mic I may fire on you myself," Gordon warned.

"Sorry, release in thirty seconds. No count just…now. Clean separation. Ramping drive to a g and a half," Thor warned.

"Retribution drive to minimum idle. Waiting for you to clear," Gordon said. "You've got a hundred meters. Retribution rolling over. Sound acceleration alarm. Take to max-g in one minute. Pull your arms in and swallow your coffee folks. We're gonna get heavy."

"Perfect line on the jump point. Will transition in six minutes." Sharp Claws reported.

"Go get 'em, Sharp Claws," Gordon called after them.

"She's gone," the astrogator called out when the destroyer blinked out of existence. The disturbance rattled the ship like a ground car hitting gravel, but they had pulled back enough.

"Reduce thrust to a half-g. All sections check status. See if anybody got stupid at high-g. We might as well run her on the sweet spot, to save a little fuel," Gordon explained. "When we are at system rest the Red Metal will search for us. If we have to break radio silence to rendezvous I want it to be short, low power and narrow beam."

* * *

"Miss? I'm Chance Ochocinco the second officer. We were told you asked to see the flight deck. Would you like to come forward now? We're both up, there is not much happening and it's a good time."

Clare claimed to not feel so well and was in the cabin. Lee decided to let her be.

"Please, I'd love to see how a courier is laid out," Lee followed him forward.

"That sort of implies you are familiar with some other sort of vessel. Are you off of a family freighter?" Chance asked.

"No, I grew up on the High Hopes, In fact, I'm two-thirds owner, but it is a deep space explorer, not a freighter. I'm afraid I've never set foot in a freighter either."

He opened the hatch and the flight deck was really small. The overhead allowed you to stand, but with maybe 300 millimeters clearance for a two-meter man. There were two large well-padded power couches, both set full upright at the moment. There were large viewports, not just displays. There were cabinets on the back walls and a drink dispenser and a door that must be to a head. There were two substantial fold-down jump seats, but no consoles for them.

"This is our Commander, Captain Bertram Roland Singh. Miss Anderson is the principal owner of the explorer High Hopes, Bert. I don't think I've ever met anyone actually raised on a ship before, have you?"

"High Hopes! Bloody Hell! They didn't tell me. I'd have still flown her, but they damn well should have told me!" he exclaimed staring at her.

"Don't worry Miss," Chance said, embarrassed. "He's perfectly harmless most of the time. What's got into you, Bert?"

"You're on the wrong side. Look at her other ear, Chance."

"A Greenie? You mean she's…?"

"The cause célèbre of this little conflict," Bertram confirmed.

"I really didn't provoke it on purpose," Lee objected, getting irritated. "I was a bit naive about Earth and I wore jewelry in public I wouldn't have, with what I know now. But this fellow tried to mug me right in the lobby of our hotel," she explained indignantly.

"This is history we're hearing," Bert said. "The straight detailed stuff, like you hardly ever get to hear first hand. Why don't you take the second seat here and power it around and Chance can pull down the jump behind me and we'd love to hear the whole story."

"Thank you," Lee said and settled in, she automatically put the lap belt on loosely. Her hand went down and the toggles were tucked under the edge of the arm channel right where she expected. She changed the knee break and lifted the foot support and brought it around counter-clockwise smoothly so she was aimed right between them.

"Hah, she's done that a time or two. She could likely stand a watch," Bert said grinning.

"Oh, no. I'm an able spacer and I have my papers, but I have never taken the conn," Lee assured them. "If you need some filters changed, or a monthly lock certification I'm your girl."

"Would you like something to wet your whistle whilst you tell us about getting mugged?" Bert invited hospitably.

"Sure, might you have a drop of Bourbon?" Lee asked, in all innocence.

The pilots just looked at each other and cracked up…

* * *

None of them had ever accelerated hard into a system like this. It just felt wrong and scary. Their drive signature was a spreading cone behind them. Somebody had to see it as packed as the Earth system was. Earth itself was an actual small crescent to the unaided eye and the drop tanks were almost empty before someone called an alert on them.

"Lunar Control, This is Titan Base, plot attached, we observe drive emissions from a vessel under heavy acceleration, on a Lunar intercept. By the time our signal reaches you, they will be somewhere around ten or fifteen minutes out. We can't plot it any closer than that, looking almost straight down his exhaust. It appears to be an extreme collision hazard for the Lunar surface or near-Earth space. Repeating…"

Luna did not reply. No point in it, when the news would be hours long arriving at Titan. Thor imagined they were much too busy to talk right now. There was Luna now, a second small crescent near Earth visible to the naked eye. They swelled visibly. Planets never looked like that on approach. They grew too slowly to perceive if you watched them. This was like some sped up video. Thor was frankly terrified.

"Tanks empty, switching to internal," he said calmly.

"Traffic Hazard! Collision Alert! All near-Earth traffic, this is Lunar Control. We have a high speed inbound to Earth-side lunar surface. Expect debris and ejection of Lunar material to all Earth orbits."

"This is USNA Orbital Fort Four. Our plot from Fort Two shows a near miss. We are engaging him as a hostile. All traffic is warned to clear, we are launching live fire."

That was cover your butt Earthie stupidity. Nobody could stand clear in the few minutes in which they were going to cross into and back out of the Moon's orbit.

* * *

"This is the Nation of Red Tree Destroyer Sharp Claws," Thor spoke calmly into the mic. "We suggest you look to your night sky, North America. We are providing some fireworks."

* * *

"Engage him with X-heads at a million Kilometers," the Commander of the fort ordered.

"We're past the release point for that range," Combat Control replied.

"A half-million then, dog-leg it around the moon."

"My computer refuses to accept his velocity as a valid datum."

"Go to manual release. Command steer them."

"Four away. Adding up all the lag times is going to be hell on manual."

* * *

"In the groove. Letting the computer do the run," Thor told the bridge crew. At their velocity, anything else would be insanity.

The ship rotated nose toward the Moon. It rushed by in a blur thirty kilometers away. So close nobody on the bridge had a drop of spit to spare, as it did a short burn and rolled back.

"Missiles inbound, Earthside turning in. Anti… crap, never mind, we're past them!" McKenzie called out.

Four warheads detonated far astern, it was futile.

Thor read the lines for the crew as the navigation computer worked them. "Kinetic release in 5,4,3,2,1,">THUD< .The recoil was like a heavy brief burn that threw them against their restraints and ship rolled and burned again, to line up on the naval yard.

The rattle and clacks of the peashooter locking back down sounded through the hull. "Kinetic impact in seven, tank release coming…" Thor warned them. The familiar deep clunk of plain grapples rang through the ship. The ship burned at angles to its path, cutting under the fort. There was suddenly an intense white point of light where the fort should be.

A low rumble passed through the ship as it caught a bit of atmosphere. For just a couple of seconds, a pale lavender halo of ionized air flashed into existence outside the viewports.

The dark Earth filled one whole side of the sky, laced with a spider web of lights outlining the continents. As they climbed away the terminator flowed over the horizon at them, surprisingly sharp. Collision alerts filled the entire screen line by line as they shot through the densest population of low orbit Earth satellites. Thor shut the warnings off. If they hit one they'd never know and they were going way too fast to dodge.

"Damage in section seven, pressure lost," McKenzie warned. "We burned off some antennas there. She's not a landing shuttle you know, Thor. You cut it damn close."

"Two away," Thor said, as a double bump marked the departure of two missiles. "Hold fire on the fort. Radar indicates it is breaking up. Drop tanks demo has detonated. Well, one failed, not so bad for jury-rigged. Man, that is one big assed cloud of crap, our radar can't see through it at all. Observing with the telescope."

The cloud of debris and chaff lit up with a thousand scintillating points of light as it impacted the construction yard. It just started to fade and two nukes made white-hot balls inside it that merged and faded quickly through yellow and orange and red. That made sure of the DSBP.

"Burning for transition point vector. All system go. Gods be, we're alive! Can you believe that? Do you see anything that can intercept us?" Thor asked.

"Not a chance in hell," McKenzie told him. "We'll be able to clear the next system before they can even get in to see which way we went."

* * *

"Thank you for the ride," Lee said to the Fargone Ambassador. "I'm not sure what the situation is on Derfhome. It appears they are still dispersed away from the Keep. I can't see any advantage to going there yet. Gordon is doing so much business here I suspect he's as likely to show up here as at home. I believe I shall visit here a bit and see what happens, if I am not a problem to have around."

"If you were a problem I'd never have given you passage. Please, stay and enjoy our planet a bit. Ms. McDonald is a Fargone citizen, perhaps you can persuade her to play the tour guide. There are some very pretty wild areas to be seen on the planet,"

"Maybe after I stay in a really nice hotel for a week or two. I need to get my head straight and allow myself to feel free and calm down. I wasn't strapped down and actively tortured, but it sure wasn't the vacation we'd planned either."

* * *

"We have an election in ninety-seven days," the President reminded them. "The public can forgive a great deal, but not looking weak. I need a really forceful response to the Derf threat. Don't exclude anything, planetary bombardment, action against the other conspiring Derf clans. What is it Harry?" he looked really irritated at the interruption as his lawyer came in.

"The Congress has voted to impeach you, Mr. President," his Chief Counsel said. " There were three abstentions and no nays. It would appear they have an overwhelming majority disposed to convict. There are Capitol police outside and they said very plainly the Congress is in session and if you want to have a say you better go over there right now."

"You don't tell a sitting President to jump up and trot over at their command, like some lackey. They can speak with my staff and arrange a time at my convenience if they want testimony. I'll then mull over whether to invoke executive privilege, or speak to them, or just send somebody." The President barked it like it was his counselor's fault.

Harry read the man's angry face. It was pointless to say anything to him. He hadn't even told him they were determined to remove the Vice President too. Well, it was a nice gig while it lasted. He turned and left, to inform them of the President's response. That would be his last act for the man and he'd leave his resignation with staff. He wasn't going to touch this impeachment hearing with a ten-foot pole. Some of it had to splatter off and stick to him. Time to call Martha and tell her they'd be moving back home to Alberta. God knows that wouldn't make her sad at all. She despised Vancouver.

* * *

"Sir," the frightened-looking radioman, of the only remaining North American DSBP, approached Admiral Vicks with a message flimsy. "We have orders transmitted in the clear, directly from the president, to break orbit with all possible speed and proceed to Derfhome, where we shall bombard the territory of the Nation of Red Tree and any other clans that offer resistance. The identification codes verify."

"Really?" He looked over at his flagship captain with a thoughtful expression. "How many injectors do we have on the reactors of this tub?" he asked the fellow casually, as if inquiring what was to be for dinner this evening.

"Eight per reactor. We have two spares, but I have never known one to go bad. They don't have any moving parts, there just isn't much to go wrong," he said keeping a straight face.

"Mr. Muldoon, my compliments to the First Engineer and I desire to see all eighteen injector assemblies on the bridge at his earliest convenience. Tell him I also require the service of a ball-peen hammer. Something in the neighborhood of a half kilo will do."

"Sir!, Aye sir!" he said big-eyed. They didn't salute on-ship, but he did anyway. The Admiral graciously didn't comment on the salute, or how deeply the man was rattled.

"The civilians complain about extravagant waste in the military," the Admiral noted a half-hour later. "I hate to think what these cost." Each of the precision Beryllium-Copper alloy housings had a nasty hammer ding on the mirror-bright seating surfaces.

"However, I think in the long run there will be a significant savings, Captain, I'd like you to make sure the Secretary of the Navy has copies of those orders, just in case they by-passed him and inform him we are unable to break orbit due to maintenance issues. Tell him we are on auxiliary power and have major problems with our reactors."

"I'd like you to order replacements for these defective parts, Chief, but put a safety hold on them, so they have a design review before being let to fabrication. That applies to any of this design lot in stock naturally. They seem to go bad much too easily," Vicks said, offering the hammer back to the Chief Engineer, who privately determined he would preserve it as a historic object.

"Tell Captains Salley and Eisenstein of our two heavy cruiser escorts, that they are to assume opposing surveillance orbits and pursue and fire on any vessel of our command leaving Earth orbit without my order. Transmit that in the clear also, just so everybody knows where we stand. I'd hate to destroy the injectors of every vessel in the fleet and leave us defenseless, but I'll do that before I take orders to conduct a planetary bombardment of civilians."

* * *

"It's been forty- eight hours. I can't believe they have not sent a response in force, back through where the Sharp Claws emerged," Gordon said. "They have to know we have something here. No way they entered so fast without some sort of assist. Thor couldn't have hurt them so badly they can't respond.

"Grapple the Red Metal up and we'll jump to Survey System 893. It's an easy transition and they have fuel for sale because it is a mining system. Then it's two jumps to Bountiful and three to Fargone. We'll probably beat Sharp Claws back to Fargone because they are going to have to take the long way back around the Sol system. With a little bit of luck maybe we'll find a USNA flagged vessel along the way."

Chapter 48

Media Headlines

Lunar Daily/web - Naval Yard a Complete Loss - Terror in the Night

Insider/web – Senate Convicts Pres. and Vice

Human Interests/web - Mars Invites Removed President and Vice Pres. To Emigrate

Space Safety/web – Orbital Battle Debris a Huge Problem

* * *

The Mothers were uneasy in this new place. Mostly they feared for their dignity. The Enemy was not to be met in one's home though. That was unseemly. Yet cities were for trade and this was much more serious. An enemy clan they would traditionally meet on their common border. Well, this was on the edge of Derf space. It would serve.

The station was bigger than they imagined. Everything was labeled. Was nothing obvious? The people all seemed busy, but what they were doing was far from apparent, it all happened out of sight. The light and smells were odd, but strangest of all their weight and tread in this artificial place felt right. The Hilton sent a guide to their shuttle, who turned out to be Human and she was respectful and competent as well as fluent in Derf. When she offered a cart they'd asked how far it was. The young Human woman read Derf faces well enough she could tell it amused them to be offered transport for 400 meters. They didn't introduce their room servant or their Champion, as was proper.

They chatted with her as they strolled at a sedate pace and were mildly surprised she was well aware of the issues about which they were meeting with the Earthmen. But they were deeply surprised when she delivered them to the hotel desk and before leaving she sternly said, "Don't let the Earth scum pull anything on us," and walked away.

"Us?" they all said with one voice when she was away.

"I'm telling you right now. We better understand that," the First Mum told them. "We are missing something. And it may be important."

"She has no clan. How can she identify with us?" the Second Mother asked.

"Plenty of town Derf have no clan," the First reflected. "Some have been unattached traders for generations. Yet it's their world too, isn't it?"

"They live on it, but we have made sure they have no say in our law," the Third Mum pointed out. She scrunched her nose thinking. "We are surprised this woman can identify with us. Perhaps a better question is - Why do we expect a town Derf to have any more of an attachment to us than she would?" Neither had an answer to that.

They took their pass card and followed more signs to their suite in troubled silence.

"I did not mean to be offensive," the Third apologized, taking silence for a rebuke.

"I am upset dear," the First told her, "but because you are right, not rude. We will talk on this from time to time. But it needs some thought and much more information."

* * *

The data dump coming into Fargone was huge, but two priority items popped up on Gordon's screen in the abbreviated style of drone messages.

"Lee safely extracted. Gone to Fargone via diplomatic courier." - Blackwater EPS. That skipped over a few details, such as the Lunar Republic incensed and the Hinth aroused to rebellion.

"USNA State Dept. sending representative to "affirm Treaty of Man" according to drone message. Red Tree Mothers have decided to meet him at Derfhome Station. Hostilities not ended.Remain cautious." – Nation of Red Tree.

That jolted him. He never expected them to leave the Hold much less the planet. He forwarded the message about Lee to the Mothers. "Have no idea if USNA officials know she is off-planet. Remaining very cautious," he assured them. "Ruddy Rustic resuming station."

"Fargone station this is Nation of Red Tree vessel Retribution. We request long term docking and provisioning. We request landing rights for our two shuttles and if you have a double slot open we'd like an adjoining dock for the Nation of Red Tree Sharp Claws to follow." He did not wait for confirmation to come back, given the lag and sent ahead - To: Blackwater EPS: "Docking Fargone Station. Desire escort to meet daughter in a safe location." – Gordon of Red Tree.

* * *

Earl and his family were smuggled across the border into Guatemala. By stages, they traveled by coastal vessel to Argentina. They obtained new papers and identities and worked their way to Spain, then France, and finally Monaco. It was not fast, but they had time and it was a very secure and well know series of handlers to Blackwater.

Legal residence and housing in Monaco was simply a matter of enough money, but it had political flexibility that their guardians appreciated. Money was something Lee had in plenty, so they settled in and waited to see how the Derf war and Lee would settle out. Colonization of Providence was not yet at a level they could travel there. That was several years away, but that was likely the ultimate goal Earl wanted for his family.

In the meantime, they were in a safe location with a culture that was not totally alien and from which they could travel to the Lunar Republic or Ceres easily. When they could meet Lee again, they hoped to ask rights to settle not just on Providence, but on her land. Until that happened they were a mysterious and quietly genteel wealthy family, who their business agents described as Argentines, with a wink. They hired private tutors and lived a very low key life, outside what Europeans considered society.

They were somewhat disposed to doing unsuitable things. They wanted to learn how to cook in their own kitchen, instead of a proper cooking school. Among their tutors was not only a speaker of French, but also a teacher of Derf. But then the rich may be a bit eccentric. They paid well to do things their way, which smooths over much worse eccentricities.

* * *

"We shall need a suitable conference room," the Mothers informed the hotel manager. His name tag said, Estes Martin. "We need one that is for our exclusive use for the duration of our negotiations and we intend to take possession of it now before the Earth delegation arrives, and keep it under the guard and maintenance of our own clan. We shall need to rent any adjoining cubic also for security reasons."

"The Grand Ballroom is in huge demand, but for such a historic occasion we would be happy to make it available and explain to those scheduled to use it that matters of state required its availability," the Human manager offered.

"How many does that hold comfortably?" the first Mum inquired.

"The Grand Ballroom can seat up to eight hundred, configured for a presentation with a stage. We have furniture modules to configure a table in several shapes and sizes. For a banquet, we have seated two-hundred Humans comfortably, with no crowding to serve it and an area to the side with comfortable furnishings, to mingle before or after as you feel the need," Estes said.

"Why would we need such a large facility?" the First asked amazed. The two other Mothers looked at each other behind her, quizzically.

"I'm familiar with high-level conferences from my training in the hospitality industry on Earth. I'd expect the Earth negotiators will have all sorts of undersecretaries and assistants and clerks. Then they will have their private security and spouses of the higher-level executives, as well as the usual hangers-on, who are never officially acknowledged, but still get dragged along, even if they are little more than camp followers," Estes said, showing how distasteful all that was to him by his expression.

"There are usually a few official photographers and stenographers and writers. Some of them may plan to entertain. For security, they will have their own chefs, kitchen staff, and servers. The press will follow along and various less savory entertainers who attend any large gathering of the rich. Once I helped prepare for a meeting of economists in Toronto, Canada and we had to accommodate close to fifteen thousand people when you counted the extra police and security brought in. This, of course, will be smaller and I thought you very wise to bring it to the station to force it to be a smaller, more intimate meeting. Nevertheless, I expect they will fill a liner and perhaps have a couple of smaller charters for the press and such."

"We really have no need of all these, uh," the First Mother searched her English for a polite expression, several less polite occurred much too easily, "extraneous things. A room with a straight plain table that can seat the three of us along one side with elbow room. Sufficiently roomy not to feel claustrophobic and space for our Champion to stand well back against a wall. We don't want him looming over us from behind. That will give them room for five or six Humans opposite us. That is plenty. The more people involved, the less the chance anyone will come to an agreement."

The hotelier pursed his lips and considered it. "I applaud your directness. I doubt the North Americans will know what to make of it, however. It's simply not how high-end politics is done in their culture. They may find it insulting to be stripped of all their little symbols of power. It is not unusual for Earth negotiators to spend days, arguing about what shape of a table they will meet around that doesn't give a psychological advantage to the other side."

"They may find we have gone home rather than deal with such foolishness if they try that with us," the First Mum told him. The others nodded agreement behind her.

"There are so many rooms occupied by Derf right now, both here and in the other hotels, that I assumed you had a large contingent with you to play the game," Estes said.

"I say this with all seriousness," the Third Mum spoke to him from behind her leader. "You put your guests and your establishment at risk if you discuss any details of your guests, Derf or Earthies while this meeting is going on. Even something as seemingly innocent as this chatter about occupancy levels. Besides all these people you named, there is a very real possibility of assassins or spies being present," she told him.

"Or worse," the First Mother added.

That alarmed the man. He wasn't sure what could be worse and didn't want to ask.

"I take your point," Estes agreed. "I shall endeavor to be more discreet and give the staff extra instructions to avoid any casual talk, no matter how innocent it may seem."

* * *

"Fargone Control, this is the USNA freighter Hudson Bay, dock sixteen. We object to you docking an armed vessel at war with us. You put us at risk of being seized. We are afraid to leave dock with a vessel here that can follow and overtake us after we jump and capture us in another system. Are you prepared to protect us?"

"Hudson Bay, we anticipate no conflict in the Fargone system. So far, every act of aggression in our jurisdiction has been initiated by USNA forces. We have just sent an envoy to Earth to complain formally about this very thing. We will enforce a no-fire zone in the Fargone control volume. Once you leave our control area I suggest you appeal to USNA military forces or allies to ensure your safety. I'd add that the Heavy Cruiser Retribution you are referencing has asked for long term dockage. Perhaps you should expedite your departure, to be well before his."

"Roger Fargone Control, we shall report this," Hudson Bay warned. The message that he was welcome to leave, was as much in the tone of delivery as the actual words.

"Oh, boo hoo, he's going to tell," Gordon said. But he didn't key his mic.

* * *

"I'm Helen Cooper, the advance agent for the USNA State Department," she laid down identification on the counter. Two gentlemen that came in with her sat apart in the lobby. "The chartered liner, Holiday Lights, is about three days behind me. I have a letter of credit and wish to secure accommodations for our team. I understand the government of Red Tree is going to be staying at this hotel. It would simplify matters if we can accommodate as many of our most important officials as possible in the same facility. We also want to rent a hall of some sort for a negotiating venue. What are you able to provide?" she asked Estes.

"Madam, we have thirty-eight rooms open for an extended period of time. Others have current tenants or are reserved to the near future. That is not even allowing any reserve as we usually do, for unexpectedly larger parties, or some issue making a suite unusable. You should know the Government of Red Tree has already reserved a conference room for your meetings."

"I'm sure the Secretary will want to have control of the rooms in which we meet, for security reasons if nothing else. What is the largest facility you have available?"

"The Grand Ballroom is the largest cubic available on-station. It will seat eight-hundred as an entertainment venue, with seating for two hundred at tables when used for banquets. If my lady wishes to reserve it, I shall make it available for as long as you wish. It rents for two and seven-tenths of a Troy ounce Au daily, plus charges for setup and fixture rental, in advance. I suggest you present your letter of credit to any of the three interstellar banks on-station. We are unable to negotiate credit instruments, but none of them should have any difficulty at all."

"Then the Derf didn't rent the biggest room they could get?" Helen asked puzzled. "What facility did they reserve?"

"If you wish I'll leave a message for the Red Tree clan, to inquire about that," Estes offered. "I'd be happy to forward it, or to connect you by com if you wish to call them directly. I'm certain they would be happy to discuss it with you. If I may suggest ma'am, it would be better not to refer to Red Tree collectively as the Derf. The other clans value a distinct identity."

"You don't seem particularly friendly to our needs," Helen said frowning. "I didn't expect that from a Human."

"I'm a hospitality professional, Ms. Cooper. I will certainly attempt to be agreeable whenever possible and see to your every legitimate need. However, racial camaraderie does not enter into this equation. I need to jealously preserve the privacy of both your delegation and the Red Tree faction as a basic service," he explained. "I am also a citizen of Derfhome, working for a Derfhome based business and would consider questions about my other guests' rooms or custom a breach of their privacy. I'm sure that wasn't your intent."

"Hmm. Perhaps I should speak to some other hotelier," Helen said. "Thirty-eight rooms would barely house our primary delegates, without any security or support people."

"If you wish to use one of our com booths across the lobby, the public net will display all the hotel and rental options on-station," Estes suggested. "There are five firms offering rooms and suites on the station, as well as long term rentals and cubic for sale. There are also guild facilities, not open to outsiders that may accept your spacers and hot slots which are bunks by the hour with a small security locker. I assumed those were not of interest. We maintain a very active watch and test the booths and lobby on a random but frequent basis, so you may trust your privacy using them."

"Thank you, I shall," Helen accepted and marched across to one.

She was back in a half-hour, angry and rattled. "There are one hundred and seventeen available rooms in this can, including yours. I also rented three apartments on a one-year minimum lease and bought a luxury apartment outright at a price that would buy a full-floor penthouse condo in New York. I still have sixty-seven people for who I am directly responsible to secure accommodations and nowhere to put them. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Station cubic is always expensive," Estes agreed. "However you should recoup your investment if you are careful. Five possibilities come to mind. You could require some to stay aboard the liner. Docked their gravity will be a little high, but nothing oppressive. It certainly is not hardship accommodations. You could force some to double up. If you wish to send some of them down to the planet, there should be no problem absorbing them in the available facilities. Or you might determine which personnel are redundant and send them back instead of holding the liner."

"Nobody is going to want to be shuffled off away from the action," Helen said.

"Perhaps you could suggest some of the junior staff be sent down to look into establishing a real embassy," Estes suggested. "There isn't one on Derfhome you know."

"But there is no real need for one either," Helen insisted.

"When has that stopped them anywhere else?" Estes asked rhetorically.

"It's worth a try," Helen agreed. "Wait, that's four. Didn't you say you have five ideas?"

"Yes, or you could use the meeting facilities Red Tree reserved and divide the Grand Ballroom into barracks, and cubicles for security and the lower ranks of your people," Estes said.

"You have fixtures and furnishings to make that happen?" Helen asked.

"No, but with adequate funding, I can have them fabricated and lifted in three days. If I may suggest, why don't you visit one of the banks this shift, so I can put a hold on those rooms for you and set the other in motion if you should decide it is suitable?" Estes suggested.

"I have ten Maples on me," Helen offered. Will that hold our rooms for tonight at least and we'll make local credit arrangements tomorrow?"

"That's fine. Or we take the equivalent in discounted Ceres currency also," Estes offered.

"Then show us a suite, please. I've been cramped in a courier for fourteen days." Helen said.

* * *

Lee and Clare walked down the beach. The pilot of their rented aircar was firmly told to stay in sight of the vehicle because they would be shooting. Jesus and Diana hung back far enough to give the girls some privacy, but close enough to protect them.

The island was uninhabited and far enough from the mainland they didn't have to worry about backstops. It also would not have any of the larger carnivores they might run into on the mainland. Indeed it had little vegetation. However, they had been warned not to go in the surf even knee-deep in these waters. There were unfriendly things.

The Fargone sky was blue, but a pale robin eggs blue that bothered Clare and they wore floppy hats and spex for protection and took pills to protect their skin and hearing. Lee had round targets on push sticks to poke in the sand. She still had the nine-millimeter Jesus gave her and a four-millimeter hyper-velocity pistol for Clare in a carry bag with ammo and water.

They poked four of the targets in the sand down near the water and retreated up by the high tide line. That was about 30 meters, because Fargone had a big moon. Jesus and Diana sat up higher near the base of the dunes. The girls sat on the sand and went through the safety issues again and then Lee let Clare load up. She talked about the sight picture and control and showed Clare how to use her knee as a steady rest. Clare hit the head-sized target with about half of the first magazine of thirty-six, but they were spread all over like a shotgun blast.

"Don't get tired," Lee admonished her. "You'll get all shaky and do much worse. Take a break and let me try a bit." She took her new bigger gun out and fired slow and methodically. The recoil was a bit more than she liked, but she wasn't going to admit that to Clare.

"Man it's hot," Clare complained and peeled her shirt off and laid it on the sand to sit on. That seemed a good idea so Lee did the same and her shorts too. They were all friends and nobody else would be out here.

Lee had always been free to be nude with her family growing up. The ship ran hot or cool in different sections, depending on whether the environmental systems were shedding heat or adding it. Clothing had been a problem when she was born on ship unplanned and they only had minor repair items for sewing.

She'd spent a lot of time in bath towel sarongs, pinned up t-shirts, and homemade flip-flops off the 3D machine. When Lee was almost four they returned to a civilized world where they stocked up on real clothing and shoes that anticipated her growth for the next few years. They now viewed safety pins as a much more valuable tool to stock than before.

"I'll put some fresh targets up," Lee said. "Be safe with that pistol now, when I'm out in front of you."

When she came back she encouraged Clare to shoot standing with a double-handed grip extended in front of her. Clare kicked off her shorts and sandals and stood in the sun naked but for hat, spex, and pistol. She stood knees locked in a wide stance and tensed up to fire, belly and buttocks tight, pumping rounds into the target. Clare was definitely more mature than Lee, if less athletic.

Behind them, Diana took a video of her bucking the recoil with her com-pad. "Something pleasant there for you too?" Jesus asked her, surprised.

"No, I don't go that way, but I grabbed it for you since you are too polite to do it for yourself. You should stop biting your thumb," Diana suggested.

"Ah, yeah," he agreed, pulling it out of his mouth and inspecting it. "I was raised on European beaches, so this is pretty tame," Jesus insisted, despite the thumb chewing. "When we were about fourteen most of us went through a phase where thought we wanted to be lifeguards, and just live at the beach, until reality dawned on us that it paid crap and couldn't be a life-long career. But if you had ever told me I'd be paid this kind of money to sit on an exotic off-world beach and watch cute teenagers cavort in the sun and shoot pistols into the surf, I'd have called you a liar."

"A mercenary's life is hard, but somebody has to do it," Diana agreed.

* * *

Sharp Claws transited Survey System 418 without slowing down. She needed her fuel to slow in a system where she could purchase more. 418 had no Human presence as far as they could tell. There was nothing exceptional about it. No resources that could not be mined cheaper elsewhere and no direct jump to Earth at normal velocities.

They transited the system with a small vector change to Survey System 713, otherwise known as Gilead. It was a private colony of religious nature. Totally space-based with no habitable planet but lots of accessible resources. They were restricted for immigration, but open to trade. Sharp Claws could fuel up in the outer system.

"Gilead control, this is the nation of Red Tree vessel Sharp Claws. We would like to buy fuel and then transit your system and exit. Would you tell us where we can tank up please?" They put Fred Pierson on the com for a Human face not knowing if there would be some difficulty with Derf. Sometimes the more religious cultures were less comfortable with aliens.

"Sharp Claws that was some entry. I've never seen a manned vessel come in on the Earth vector through 418, just message drones. You have some legs there. We have three sources of fuel you can ask for quotes. I'm marking them on the plot. When it updates you'll see them. Can we expect other traffic on that vector now?"

"Probably not Gilead. We needed auxiliary tanks to get that much velocity and this ship is fast running on just the internals. But it was exciting to do at least once," Fred told them.

"Are you aware you are not transmitting a data dump offer?" Gilead Control asked. "We have a three-day gap on market data and news if you have any for sale."

"We have sixteen-day old Fargone data if there is a market for it, but no Earth data," Fred told him. "The nation of Red Tree is at a state of war with the USNA, so we hardly lingered in Sol system or acquired trade goods, not even data."

"Ha! Then you guys are pretty bold to cut through where all the USNA warships are parked. Even if they can't follow that spectacular jump I'd have been mighty nervous doing that transit at any speed. Like a mouse running through where the cat lives."

"You have no idea guy. I'm sure you will get a report in the next message drone."

Mouse indeed, Fred thought to himself. The cat just had a rude awakening.

* * *

The second son by life contract of the four-hundred seventy-fourth First Mother of Red Tree – Garrett - Champion of the Chain-Bound Lands, stood easy in the corridor, guarding the entrance to the conference room his clan rented. His was mainly a ceremonial presence and he wore a light set of historic armor in transparent scarlet enamel over hand-engraved bronze armor. It was the ceremonial Derf equivalent of a British soldier in a tall bearskin hat, or an Italian in his feathered hat with spats and gloves. He was the new Champion of Red Tree and as long as they rented it he considered the room Red Tree territory and Garrett's presence demonstrated that.

The actual guarding was by a single Derf soldier inside the conference room and in each of the rooms sharing a bulkhead with that room, four other rooms besides the corridor. The opposite side was to vacuum. Those Derf were in modern battle dress, with armor and weapons with reduced charges and frangible projectiles. They each also had an alloy steel axe with a composite handle.

Garrett had a bronze axe with a wooden handle, covered with engravings that noted the historic occasions of its use. It was also mildly radioactive right now, but that would pass with time on a scale the axe had already endured. He didn't intend to sleep with it against him and he might skip cooking on it as had been done from time to time.

His great uncle William trained him to the job, but his Mother had still laid it before him as a choice when William died. Not many clan Derf were given a choice about their occupation, but a Champion had to be whole-hearted about his duties. If however, he had refused the great honor, he would have left the clan and sought his fortune elsewhere.

William had taught him everything he could while he had time, but his legacy was a huge one to step into. Not many Champions died still active in their old age and none taking an entire company of Space Marines with them as an honor guard to the Shadowlands. He was mainly intent on not screwing up. The more so when he was told he had two nuclear weapons for which he was personally responsible.

A Human came down the corridor wearing a jumpsuit with data spex and a toolbox following him like a dog at heel. He glanced at Garrett in passing, but didn't speak or even nod. He went down to the next door, which was next to the conference room, and produced a key.

"Hold there!" Garrett called out. He keyed his mic and told the guards there was an entry attempt as he approached. The fellow didn't turn away from the door or acknowledge him until he got very close.

"I have to inspect the fire suppression system, guy. Ninety-day mandatory look-see and the last day is tomorrow," he insisted.

"These rooms are off-limits until we leave them," Garrett informed him, hand on axe. "They are Red Tree territory. Send the hotel manager to me and my Mothers if there is need. We will have to have other rooms that can be held secure, if these are entered."

"God save us from little tin soldiers," the man muttered. There was something different about his speech. He raised a small black box and Garrett at first thought he was lifting a com to his lips, but it turned into an aiming motion. He was painfully slow. Garrett drew his axe and backhand swatted the hand and device away with the flat of the blade. It made a muffled pneumatic sound and something it expelled rattled against the corridor wall.

The man should have been startled or afraid, but instead, he tried to step closer. Pressing in on a Derf who had just drawn his axe back was not a good idea. Garrett sensed danger and reversed the stroke, leaning into it with the strength that fear brings. The blade caught him right at the base of the neck and passed down through his torso, exiting above the hip bone on the opposite side. The man simply fell in two pieces with a surprised look on his face.

Garrett had never struck a thinking being in anger and stood astonished at himself. The blood and gore had sprayed everywhere and it smelled horrible. He was shocked and froze in place, dripping axe in his hand. He'd responded well to the emergency, but what the hell was he supposed to do now? Nobody had covered after-action in his training.

The rapid response team jogged down the hall to him with carbines held at ready. Two positioned themselves looking down the corridor each way and the squad leader came up to Garrett, tipping the ballistic shield back from his face.

"Why didn't you just call housekeeping, Axe-Boy?" he said grinning. "You left shit-all for us to do, unless you have a mob of them cornered behind the door."

"A Taser," Garrett said amazed, pointing down at the little plastic weapon. "The stupid son of a bitch tried to take me with a Taser. He obviously had no clue that a Taser just irritates the hell out of a Derf."

"Well he won't make that mistake again," he said cheerfully. "I've called the Mothers and the manager is on the way too." He gave Garrett a grin and a solid comradely thump on the shoulder. "Nice to see the clan has a by the gods real Champion, not scared to bloody the axe."

Chapter 49

The Sharp Claws was into their run for jump leaving the Gilead system when a message drone from Earth caught up and entered the system.

"Sharp Claws, we have a complaint and demands we detain you from the USNA. I don't know how they expect us to detain an armed ship when we have no military, but they sent the system scan of your passage through the Earth/Moon system. I'm attaching it in the data stream. You will make your transition before we can exchange transmissions again."

"The message is from the USNA only, not any other Earth powers or authorities. Be aware they are trying to enlist others to detain you. They indicate you killed around twelve hundred and destroyed over two hundred billion dollars NA of infrastructure."

"You are advised Gilead would rather not get dragged into your dispute. Despite not having a useable direct jump to Earth we are two jumps away via three other stars. We are so closely tied to Earth economically we need their goodwill. Please don't put us in the position of being asked to fuel or service Red Tree vessels again. End message."

"I won't be here to hear a reply," Thor told them instead of Fred. "I suggest that if you desire neutrality you have two options. You may either service both USNA vessels and Red Tree vessels, or you can service neither. Having barred us, if you service military assets of the USNA we will not only consider you an ally of North America, but we will feel free to take prizes and conduct military operations in your system. Sharp Claws, out."

"We need fuel scooping drones and processing gear," Thor said. "I would hate to go in a system low on fuel and find the USNA has strong-armed them into refusing to do business with us. I'd rather scoop my own with some fellow yelling I'm violating his franchise, than try to extract it at gunpoint from a terminal. There are just too many ways they can damage your ship and strand you, once you dock and hook a pipe up."

"Well, twelve jumps in a big semicircle and we will be at Fargone," Fred said. "Let's hope to stay ahead of the news from Earth and hope they don't talk anybody into trying to stop us."

* * *

"Your Dad is on the station and asking to be taken to you," Diana told Lee. "It would be easier, security-wise, to take you to him. There are few Derf at Fargone and you will be much less conspicuous to move. Are you game to visit him up there?"

"Oh, yes! I like space stations," Lee said. "They always have great people watching and interesting shopping. Do you mind Clare coming along if she wants?"

"I didn't figure we could pry you apart if we tried. We'd just have to separate somebody to watch her solo if we did. Bring her along," Diana agreed.

* * *

Sharp Claws made a conservative jump to System 834, refusing to respond to a hail there from a mining group, paranoid after their problems with Gilead. System 809 which was silent and apparently empty passed easily and they stopped in Survey System 1001, a mining system with a very small population, but a fuel service. They had outrun the news of their raid on Earth and nobody was inclined to try to detain them. They were well along a long arc curving away from Earth tracking back towards Fargone.

Survey System 1219 their next transit was listed in the base as uninhabited. They made a minimum velocity jump, conserving fuel, and made a leisurely turn to exit the system. They probably looked like a slower freighter. The hail they got was unexpected.

"This is the University of Toronto Astrological Survey ship Dr. Whitney. I'm Dr. Ben Levi. We haven't seen much traffic through this system. You’re only the second ship in four months. Do you have a news summary you can dump to us? We've been a bit isolated here. We're doing a student field trip and a bit of archeology and will be heading home in two weeks."

"This is the nation of Red Tree vessel Sharp Claws. We just got an abbreviated dump exiting Gilead. We'd be happy to share that. This system seems unremarkable. What is interesting about it?" Fred Pierson asked.

"It has some unusual isotopic ratios. It would appear a lot of those materials with skewed ratios are missing. One theory is the system was mined in the past. Not by a native intelligence, of course, there isn't anywhere habitable, never has been, rather by a race from outside the system. We're looking at perturbed orbits and examining the surface of asteroids and moons for signs of extraction. We're even looking for the sort of artifacts that might have been discarded as trash, like broken machine parts from mining equipment. An old bolt or a discarded piece of packaging would tell us a lot." Levi got enthused talking about their research.

"Do you think it was mined recently?" Thor asked, from off-screen.

"Oh my, yes! Some of the instabilities still propagating in the ring system of the second gas giant indicate it was perturbed as recently as two million years ago. You will have to read the paper on it when we have it published," Levi said. "It's exciting."

Thor and Pierson looked across the consoles at each other and rolled their eyes.

"The registry says the Dr. Whitney is a modified exploration vessel of a hundred and fifty-two meters," Pierson read, mic muted. "She is USNA registered. She carries a crew of three to six and as many as sixteen researchers. But it is a fifteen-year-old ship. She will, of course, have short-range defenses being an explorer. They might have kept her fuel plant and ramscoops. Those would be nice to have."

"Gordon is quite fond of the High Hopes and she is that old," Thor pointed out. "Should we seize her?" he asked the entire flight deck crew. “Do we want to run her back to Fargone? That's asking a lot of a prize crew. It's four jumps and a refueling stop with prisoners aboard."

"They might think it worthwhile for several million each in prize money," Their systems tech Arnold pointed out. "I volunteer if you want to do it. Send a few armored Derf if you are worried about them retaking the ship."

"It does have Derf capable corridors," Thor noted.

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" Dr. Levi asked. "The plot on that dump you sent me shows an attack on the Earth system."

"No joke fellow. The nation of Red Tree is at war with the USNA," Pierson assured him.

"I don't believe it. Nobody goes to war anymore. It's stupid and barbaric."

"Why don't you get me a crewman, Professor? Somebody with command authority."

"Somebody still connected to reality," he said off-mic.

"They are all busy getting ready to break down our moon huts and stow them aboard. That's why I'm sitting at the radio," Levi said, "because we only have a crew of three."

"Gods forbid he get his hands dirty," Arnold muttered. "I've worked for the type."

"Doctor," Pierson said, patiently like speaking to a small child, "this is why they have a watch on the radio, in case you have an unusual communication. You don't have to fetch them to the radio, just connect me to their suit radio."

Thor hit his mute button. "I'm going to seize this ship. The idiot academic pushed me over the edge to decide we should grab it. He needs somebody to pull his head out of his ass and reacquaint him with reality. Set a minimum fuel course to approach."

"I'm trying to figure out how," Dr. Levi admitted. "I'll ask the Captain how to get you in a three-way." The speaker gave them a series of clicks, a woman talking about the lunch menu, then a quick snatch of music. Finally, they heard him ask, "Captain Talbert?"

"Yes, Dr. Levi?

"Half a year and these fellows are not on a first-name basis?" Pierson asked Thor.

"Yeah it sounds like a real love fest," Thor agreed. Captain Talbert sounded like he was short of breath from hard physical labor. He also sounded short of patience.

"Captain we have a ship in-system transit, the Sharp Claws, they are making outrageous claims and asked to speak with you. They insist they are at war with the USNA and showed a plot of an Earth system attack. I think I have them tied in a three-way now."

"Captain Talbert, this is com tech Fred Pierson for Commander Thor of the nation of Red Tree vessel Sharp Claws. Opening com to Thor." He transmitted Thor's image and the command deck around him. He made sure there were both Derf and Humans on camera.

"Sir, We are maneuvering to intercept your location by radio fix and will be sending a prize crew by shuttle to seize the Dr. Whitney under letters of marque from our nation. Your personal belonging and university equipment will be unmolested. You will be repatriated from the Fargone system as quickly as possible. Please stand to and do not try to power up or illuminate us with radar, as we will take that as a hostile act," Thor explained.

"Thor, is that your given name or family name?" Talbert asked.

"It is my name for dealing with Humans," Thor explained. "My legal Derf name is an abbreviated genealogical linage with which few wish to deal. I attach Thor onto the end."

"Very well, Commander Thor, what sort of vessel do you command?" Talbert asked.

"The Sharp Claws is an enhanced Santa Fe class destroyer, a hundred and twenty-eight meters long. She was taken as a prize for our navy by the nation of Red Tree Heavy Cruiser Retribution."

"I see. Commander, I surrender to you. I will make my way back to the Dr. Whitney and relieve our leader of expedition. I have a number of civilians to protect. I won't give you any trouble as long as they get preserved alive and well."

"You can't just give up like that with no fight at all!" Dr. Levi protested. "We have no idea if any of this is true. It could be some freighter and we have no proof there is any war. They could be plain old pirates for all you know. I'm expedition leader and I didn't tell you to surrender!"

"Don't be an ass, Levi. That is the flight deck of a warship behind the man, even if you can't tell the difference. Do you think they created a huge complicated video and system plot, on the off chance they would run into somebody to fool with it out in the middle of nowhere? Use some of that supposedly high powered brain to apply Occam's Razor. I'm not about to risk my crew or your students trying to fight a modern warship with this wallowing old tub. If there is no war let the courts sort it out later, Doctor."

"He's not a man," Levi said between clutched teeth.

"Best you don't expound on that, "Captain Talbert suggested. "If you don't piss him off, you will me. I can just about guarantee it."

"Very well, but I'm going to report your cowardice and insubordination."

"Sure, go bitch that I saved you from your own stupidity. I'm about halfway back and I don't want to see that you have messed with anything on my ship," Talbert warned him.

"Aren't you going to continue packing up the huts?" Levi asked.

"Moon huts are cheap," Talbert informed him. "I don't think we're going to have time for them. I'll tell the students to save data first, then whatever equipment that can be salvaged according to its value."

"That's my job to instruct the students," Levi complained.

 "Then pull your thumb out of your butt and do your job, instead of talking nonsense. Commander Thor, just how much time do we have to evacuate our people and equipment?"

"We are making a minimum fuel approach and will launch our shuttle from beyond your weapon range, figure eighteen hours. We will take your crew aboard and at least some of the students. It is understood I hope, that if you fire upon our shuttle we will destroy your vessel."

"We didn't want weapons on a University ship, but they wouldn't license us without them on this class of vessel," Dr. Levi said. "We’re certainly are not going to use the filthy things."

"That may be, but we will still send the prize crew by shuttle. You might rationalize that you really aren't using them on men," Thor said, sarcastically. "You seem a bit conflicted and this will remove any temptation. If you have to risk anyone to meet that time frame talk to me and maybe we can ease the schedule."

* * *

"I've seen this fellow," the manager Mr. Martin said. For a hotel manager, he seemed undisturbed at the mutilated corpse and the mess all over his plush carpeted corridor. "He was with the State Department Lady who did the advance setup for the USNA delegation. There was another fellow, but neither of them said 'Boo'. They just sat in the lobby and waited on Ms. Cooper to handle everything."

The officer from Station Security just lifted a very skeptical eyebrow. "Would you have a security video of this other fellow?" He'd just seen the corridor video of the killing.

"Oh sure, I'll get that for you," Estes said, searching for it remotely on his pad.

"Might I ask if Ms. Cooper is also a guest of the hotel?" The security fellow asked.

"Oh, I don't mind revealing that," Estes decided. "She didn't ask for her presence to be confidential. I can summon her if you wish, before moving the body."

The cop looked down at the body. "Perhaps that would be instructive. However, let's show some delicacy and throw a sheet over him and just expose the face if she agrees to identify him."

"Perhaps I should withdraw?" Garrett suggested. "My presence like this," he waved a hand over the bloody axe and armor, "might be inflammatory. I'd like to clean up anyway."

"Yes, good idea. If we learn anything of significance we'll let you know," the cop agreed.

"Thanks," Garrett said, leaving quickly before anyone changed their mind. He was trying not to show the relief he felt inside. He had not been completely sure if they would call it a clean killing, or argue he should have recognized the Taser as harmless.

* * *

"Gordon!" Lee squealed and launched herself into his arms. The impact rocked him back, but he recovered.

"Well, I was thinking about coming for a visit," Gordon allowed, grinning.

"It was safer to move her than you," Jesus explained. "There aren't that many Derf here and you'd stand out like a sore thumb."

"I should have figured that out myself," Gordon said. Jesus just shrugged like it was no big deal.

Clare was hanging back, tense with that scared rabbit – ready to run look.

"What's wrong Clare?" Lee asked confused.

"It's just, so big," Clare admitted with a tremor in her voice.

Gordon turned back into the suite waving them in and sat down to not tower over her so much. Jesus put his arm around Clare's shoulders and steered her to a seat well away from Gordon. She came along reluctantly.

"Clare, sometimes your brain has this stuff hard-wired into it and there is no helping how you feel," Gordon allowed. "Your hind-brain just screamed PREDATOR! And that is built in there for good reason. Take your time and it will ease off when you see nothing bad happens. You got a little adrenaline jolt and it takes time to metabolize it. Would you like something to drink? A little snack maybe?"

"You're a very hospitable predator," Clare giggled, embarrassed at making a scene. "I'm starved, at least I was a minute ago and I bet Lee is too. Whatever you want to do for lunch is fine."

* * *

"Thor, we have a problem," trooper Ernest told him. "We are perhaps two hours from finishing loading and Captain Talbert informed me that Doctor Levi left him a handwritten note that he has left their base area and has taken an extra suit breather pack and intends to stay hidden so that we can't leave."

"You are leaving the moon huts. I assume you didn't drain the stills or atmosphere. Did you leave any rations?"

"All the regular food is reloaded," Ernest said, "as is the field kitchen. There are the emergency food supplies in the huts, just like first aid kits and patch kits."

"Drop a crate of MREs in a hut and attach a note to the good Doctor that we will advise his university and government he chose to stay behind. Broadcast that you are leaving it, in case he is not down a hidey-hole too deep to receive a transmission. If they decide the expense of rescuing him is worthwhile they can do so. It's the sort of thing they may have to do for public opinion, but I don't imagine they will be very happy about it. Don't tell the students. Some idiot child may decide to join him out of hero worship. I'm not going to unload half this crap for a mob of sudden joiners," Thor said.

* * *

The rapid response team, the Innkeeper, all three Mothers, the State Department rep, and a station employee, made for a bit of a mob in the corridor.

The Innkeeper Mr. Martin pulled the sheet back from the dead man's face. Ms. Cooper's face flared with anger, but her words surprised them."Well Smitty, you finally did something too stupid to survive."Her lips were a thin line, but her anger was directed at the corpse.

"Can the station authority bag him up and store him for shipment, or to go back with us?" Helen asked. "I suppose there are family who will want him returned for burial."

"We have had to deal with deceased guests before," Mr. Martin acknowledged. "I'll make arrangements and get you a receipt. Is there anything you need to get off him, any paperwork or equipment that is sensitive, or proprietary?"

"He wasn't even supposed to have that," Helen said, pointing at the Taser, laying on the deck. "The stupid son of a bitch might as well have had a pickle fork, for all the good that stupid thing was going to do him. He wasn't acting on my orders, so I have no idea if he has any more Junior Secret Agent crap on his person or back in his luggage. I'd guess he has some kind of a bug he was going to plant."

"I understand if you'd rather not talk about it, but might the other gentleman with you be assigned to engage in this sort of activity?" the security cop asked.

"Oh no, Alex is my usual assistant and has been for almost five years. This fellow was newly assigned to me as security. I'm not about to dilute my credibility by trying to make excuses for him. I don't know who he was working for, but if it was State somebody would have told me to turn a blind eye. I'm paid to make things work smoother, not look for something to throw a monkey wrench in the works. If the diplomats want to complain about this when they get here, that's up to them. That might tell us to who he belonged," Helen speculated.

"Your internal politics are that complex and conflicted?" the middle Mother asked.

"Isn't it everywhere?" Helen asked. "He could have been working for any of the military or intelligence agencies, or even a political party or corporation. Maybe even some fringe alien-hating group, as incompetent as he was. I'm not squeamish, go ahead and go through his pockets and yank his wallet. You'd go through it at the morgue I'm sure."

The squad leader went through the man's pockets and got a memory stick. Ms. Cooper didn't flinch a bit at the sight of the full corpse. In a stiff plastic envelope was a flat black chip a half-centimeter square and almost paper-thin. It had a tab for a peel back, that was likely sticky underneath. In his waistband was a long slender blade like a boning knife. He raised his eye-ridges and displayed the knife, but handed it all to Ms. Cooper. She flipped through the wallet, announced he had State Department ID and way too much money. "Keep the Taser or toss it as you will," she offered. "Are they prohibited here?"

"No ma'am," the squad leader said. "Local custom is you can carry even a lethal weapon if you like and nobody will look twice or say anything to you."

"Keep it anyway," Helen said. "I'm done here if you don't need me for anything."

"Ms. Cooper." The youngest Mother caused her to pause. "What concerns me, is the mindset that saw that bug as an advantage. Just so you understand, we are not divided internally like your nation seems to be. There is no advantage in knowing our private discussions. If we have any differing opinions, we will talk it out. We would not be shy to disagree right in front of you and let you see the process, but the First Mother almost always has the final say. I am one of the Mothers now, because these two did disagree with the previous First Mother and forced her resignation. That was the first time a Mother has been removed that way in the last six hundred years. Don't expect to play on hidden dissent to have an advantage. It won't work."

"How else are Mothers removed?" Cooper wanted to know.

"Most retire due to age before they die. They find the burden beyond their ability in old age. The Mother before this was removed by the men because she could not deal with the change brought about by contact with Humankind and the Mothers were too slow to deal with it for the men's patience. It is even rarer that the men remove a Mother by the axe," she said, gesturing at the split body as an example of axe work. "They are very reluctant to do so, but it is their right.

"It's a very simple system shared by every clan on our planet and the history of it is open and well known. The best thing I can say for it, is we are here because it seems to work. It is as stable or more so than your various democracies, monarchies, and socialistic associations."

"But there are trade towns and merchants outside the clan system on Derfhome, aren't there?" Cooper asked, pointedly.

"Yes and that is an inequity we are discussing how to end." The young Mum didn't let her know how very recent that debate was.

* * *

"Fargone Control, this is the nation of Red Tree Destroyer Sharp Claws on approach. We shall need fuel and minor provisions. If you have a double docking open, we are accompanied by a prize with a class C hull. Mail and notices attached." Thor went to get a mug of hot chocolate and waited. The light speed lag was still considerable.

"Sharp Claws you have a berth reserved next to Retribution. By the time you dock the next space will be open, as the Fargone miner Rock Solid is on count to depart. Please yourselves which vessel to place next to Retribution. Mail and official notices are attached. May we know the previous registry name of your prize, with the understanding it is pending official approval? We'd like to know its physical data. Also, is it to be charged to the same account for docking and supply fees?"

"Fargone Control, please confirm fee authorization with Gordon, commanding Retribution. The captive hull is former USNA deep space explorer Dr. Whitney. Please advise Fargone Immigration we have three crew and fourteen students from the University of Toronto to repatriate when there is transport. I doubt they will have passports or documents, as they did not plan this visit. Perhaps the USNA embassy can be of assistance. I am however asking Commander Gordon to reserve accommodations for them on-station. We shall bracket the prize in dock, Control. Thank you," Thor said.

"Fargone Control this is the USNA freighter Hudson Bay, Commander Erickson speaking. We protest your docking a USNA ship taken as a prize. It amounts to aiding piracy to offer docking and supply to a captured vessel. We are going to take a copy of the control dialog home to document what happened here."

"Hudson Bay, would you explain please what you wish us to do? Do you want us to refuse them docking, so they must stand-off without provisions? Is your government in a position to rescue this vessel before they run out of fuel and air and water? If you send off a fast drone right now it will be a long wait for such support if they elect to come."

"Of course not," Hudson Bay replied irritated. "You should allow it to dock and make provision for the care of the crew, but seize the ship yourselves to hold for USNA authority. It is after all stolen property."

"Oh, you want us to declare war on the nation of Red Tree and unilaterally declare ourselves allies of the USNA. Now that is much clearer. I'm basically just a traffic cop you know. You should be talking to our Department of Foreign Relations. They may ask what your authority is, to seek a treaty with our sovereign nation."

"You are being ridiculous," sputtered Erickson. "Out." A half-hour later, a minor USNA consulate official rode a shuttle up and delivered a diplomatic pouch to go on the next Earthward bound drone.

* * *

The suite was full of people, almost all crew. The sofa and seats were all full and the hotel had brought in folding chairs. There were still people standing and sitting on the floor. There was a heavy murmur of voices even though nobody was loud. It smelled lightly of Derf and beer and spicy hot food. Gordon and Thor sat with Lee between them, watching the biggest wall screen run split between the flight deck video of Sharp Claws and a simultaneous system plot of the Earth raid. Most of the room was watching, some for the first time, although it was the third showing. It still got gasps and whistles. Quite a few were viciously attacking the buffet and two staff in white jackets worked to stay ahead of them, wheeling in carts of fresh fare and bussing up the empties and plates.

"The drone is away, asking the Mothers to validate the taking of the Dr. Whitney. They have a copy of this plot too," Gordon said waving at the screen. "I'm thinking the local USNA consulate sent out a drone awfully quickly when you came in. It might not be a good idea to sit at dock here and tempt the USNA to come in and abuse the neutrality of our hosts."

"The same thought crossed my mind," Thor admitted. "But how will we find out if the Mothers want us to do anything different and what can we be doing that is productive? I hate to take a multi-billion dollar ship and just go slink around avoiding contact and seeking no gain."

"I asked the Mothers to send drone messages to Thorn, Bountiful, Heaven and Survey Systems 3160 and 2874, to be held on the public boards for pickup."

Thor nodded. "All places of special interest to the USNA, or Earth commerce in general. It's going to make them nervous to see us paying attention to any of those systems, 2874 is the primary gateway to a USNA depot system, but what is 3160?"

"It's the furthest system, to the other side of Earth, that has a public fuel depot. I just want to post a message there so they are scratching their heads, trying to figure out why the hell we might expect to have a ship out that far, on that vector."

"I like it. If it was the USNA visiting these systems they'd call it 'show the flag' operation," Thor said. "I always thought that was a fancy name for intimidation. I guess that would have some value for us too."

"Hadn't you better move the Dr, Whitney too so they don't try to retake it?" Lee asked.

"Yes and the High Hopes also," Gordon said. "I have a mission for them. We need to train two teams on fuel mining. After the close call the Sharp Claws had with the Gilead people, I'm ordering fuel extracting systems for the Retribution and the Sharp Claws. I don't want to be at anyone's mercy for fuel, or make enemies taking it by force. That's going to be standard practice for all Red Tree vessels."

"Send the explorers with a warship each for now," Thor insisted. They can do their training under guard, given the uncertainty of things. The USNA might catch one alone and repay us by seizing it. Wouldn't that be embarrassing?"

"We can do that," Gordon agreed, "and I'd like to reregister the High Hopes as a Derf vessel if the Mothers and principal owner can be convinced to do so," he said with a smile for Lee. "I asked the Mothers permission in the drone we just sent."

"I'm agreeable with that as soon as we hear back," Lee said. "Do you think we could also buy the Dr. Whitney from the Mothers, Gordon?"

Thor and Gordon both were shocked silent, looking down at her aghast. They had no warning she was going to drop such a bomb on them.

Thor recovered first, but tried to blow it off. "Deep Space Explorers are an odd thing to collect. Are you sure you wouldn't rather teapots, or bobbleheads? They're much easier to display."

Gordon didn't crack funny though. He looked at Lee thoughtfully and asked, "Why?"

"I've been thinking. I had time for it in jail and sitting around with my relatives. Planets are OK to visit, but I'm not sure I want to be stuck on one a really long time. I liked exploring, but the way we are exploring is too cautious. We are just nibbling away at the edge of a sphere. Pretty soon it will be such a big volume the actual velocity of expansion will fall way off."

"Why is that bad?" Gordon asked Lee.

"Well if there is anybody else out there exploring more aggressively, they are going to grab all the good real estate before we ever get a look at it!" Lee protested.

"Damn right," Fred Pierson said from behind them, standing with a plate of food. "We are bound to run into somebody with starships eventually. We should have Humans and Derf and Hinth on any ship that runs into them to demonstrate the ability to get along and be armed to the teeth when we do, just in case they think we must be pushovers if we do get along."

That was the most any of them had heard from him at one time. His usual level of discourse was an occasional grunt.

"Going out that deep in one ship has risks," Lee went on. "I'd like to see two ships team up so if one has a catastrophic failure the other can do a rescue. Which means you have to run light crews and have sufficient life support to double up. I'd like to have real military weapons too and not just stuff to fend off capture."

"Military-grade weapons are expensive," Gordon pointed out.

"You seem so good at taking them I didn't think it would be a problem," Lee said, deadpan. That got a huge round of laughter and a few shrill whistles.

"That's fine for now," Gordon allowed, "but we can't start a war every time you need a new batch. Missiles and warheads have a shelf life you know."

"I think I have enough money, but I wasn't planning on paying cash for the ship," Lee said.

Gordon raised one eye-ridge theatrically. "I hope you weren't planning on my stealing that for you too."

"You know how the clan had to disperse and abandon the keep? Well, I thought I'd offer the Mothers a plot of land on Providence. It makes the clan a lot more secure to have multiple locations. In fact, I think if you have several, it makes attacking one far less likely. Do you think they would trade the ship for that island I own?" Lee asked.

"That actually reverses the problem," Gordon said. "That island is over twenty-five thousand square kilometers. It is worth far more than any ship."

"They could owe me," Lee offered.

"The Mothers are death on debt. Even with no due date or interest, I doubt they'd agree to have such a burden hanging over the clan. Maybe after the war is settled they would sell you the Retribution too," Gordon suggested. "If you want to go really deep might as well have a small fleet. Warships are expensive to maintain and I'd think a single destroyer would be plenty for a clan to retain in peacetime. The island is still a lot to trade for even two ships."

"Maybe I could retain the mineral rights and they could co-develop them with me. Part income for them and part to pay for the island. And if we can get back to peace with the Earthies, the Mothers can pledge the Sharp Claws as part of the Commission fleet and earn full nation shares for our discoveries."

"That might work. I haven't been thinking that far ahead, but the Mothers would certainly like the sovereign share, instead of the explorer cut. You should write in the right to maintain residences for you and your heirs on the island since clans don't have private ownership of real property within clan lands."

Lee nodded gravely at that. It sounded good.

"If I am relieved of military obligation, I'd very much be interested in a berth for such a deep tour," Bob Colburn, a weapons board tech, called from another seat. That led to a chorus of affirmative cries.

Lee held up her com and keyed it. "Bounce a message back to this addy if you are interested," she suggested. You might talk about it with friends, if you have some you think you'd want to be stuck with in a ship, for five or six years."

"That's deep," Pierson acknowledged. "But they went out for years on voyages of exploration in sailing ships. We'd be in virgin territory and have a hell of a good chance of coming back all wearing green and filthy rich. I'm still in," he repeated.

Chapter 50

The conference table was clean of any fancy centerpiece or carafes. There was a table to the side with chilled bottled water. The Mothers decided that water was not an inappropriate offer of hospitality to an enemy, like offering beer or food would be. There were no pads or pens. If anyone desired notes or recordings they could bring their own devices. Neither was there any projection equipment and they had no plans to use the wall screen. There were no complex issues to explain as far as they were concerned.

There were three massive armed chairs on their side and room behind for their champion to stand and at his request a trooper in each corner on their side. It avoided making the opposing negotiators stare past them at armed men and gave each a corner to his back and a full view of the entire room with overlapping fields of fire.

The table was offset away from the viewport side of the room, so there were only two meters to the wall behind them. Since the wall screen was behind them, they put a video of a pleasant fall day in front of the keep on the wall, with the clan going about their normal activities.

What the other side wanted to do with their four-meter expanse was up to them. The opposite side had three nicely upholstered armchairs of Human scale and the port precluded them putting up a background.

Their host, Mr. Martin, predicted they would want to bring in a video camera, to link to those unable to fit in and possibly extra chairs for a handful of those who they felt were really important.

They agreed he could have such chairs handy to the conference room if he wished, but insisted they would have to ask for them. The Third Mother surprised them by instructing that they not be too comfortable, which got a smile out of Martin. He agreed folding chairs would do and also suggested if the other side wanted to record they should ask for a copy of the recording. He was proving to be a very valuable asset to them, at no cost beyond his normal rates and fees.

The first morning session was scheduled for 10:00 station time. The Mothers entered from the corridor and the Earth Delegation entered from an adjoining room which had been turned over to their use, but not control, as a staging area. If they wished to withdraw to speak privately, or have assets ready at hand, it gave them somewhere closer than their rooms. It also had sanitary facilities and an elaborate com console.

The Mothers had a similar room straight across the corridor and were happier with the slight separation.

The First Mother sat in the middle as she would have in the Great Hall and she had instructed the two others to sit back at arm's length from the table, to make the ranking obvious.

The two men who entered were in frock coats, which had come back into style again over morning coats, and a woman dressed neither to copy a man nor in what was strictly feminine formal or business attire. She obviously dressed to please herself, in full dark pants that came down over black ankle boots and a crepe blouse in pale blue, under a short collarless jacket of a nappy patterned blue. The wide expanse of plain blouse exposed was used to display a massive necklace of oval sapphires set in platinum. That huge display of wealth defined her status more than anything else visible. She took the center seat, which one of the men held for her. Two more men in business attire came in and stood behind them. A sweet sort of floral scent reached them across the table.

"I'm Evelyn Houke," she introduced herself, "Assistant Undersecretary for the Department of State. These gentlemen are of counsel to the Department. I was asked to establish what the conditions were for this discussion and find out a little bit about you. There is almost nothing published about you as individuals and only the most general information about how Mothers of the Derf rule. Do you mind first of all if we record the sessions with a video camera?"

One of the standing men started to verbally translate to Derf.

The First Mother cut him off with a slash of her hand. "We all speak idiomatic English entirely sufficient to negotiate. The Second Mother can tell the difference between regional accents, if not copy them very well. You are of course welcome to inquire if for some reason you think we are missing a fine point of the language," she conceded. 'Of counsel' means your gentleman are lawyers?"

"Yes, but they have no authority but to advise me," Evelyn said.

"You may record from your side of the table if you are willing to provide us an unedited copy of your recordings. It would be helpful to see how others see us in the recording."

"Thank you," Evelyn sent the second interpreter to fetch the video crew. "Would it be possible to allow a few observers behind us?"

"That's up to you," the First Mother said. "We don't intend to try to have a dialog with a mob, however. We'll speak with whomever you place in these three seats. Which raises a question. From your title, I would guess you have to be in at least the third tier down. Do you have the authority to negotiate? Is the Secretary of State here? Or do you have the ability to make binding arrangements?" The crew had a camera up already behind her.

"The Secretary was not able to come, but my superior the Undersecretary has full authority to negotiate an agreement. Ultimately, even the Secretary would have to present the proposed treaty to our Congress for ratification. That is an aspect of our law we have no way to avoid. I'm saving the Undersecretary some effort laying the groundwork. He is most curious about you as individuals and would like to feel he knows the personality he is dealing with. Might we also bring in a few seats for our observers?" Evelyn asked.

"Garrett, have Mr. Martin bring in chairs for as many as they wish to entertain. Our time also has value, just like that of the Undersecretary," the First Mother informed Ms. Houke. "If he is so curious as to our personalities, he'd learn much more if he'd planted himself in your chair and addressed us himself. Rather than wear ourselves out chatting with underlings about personalities and chairs and such, we’ll let talk with my son Garrett today. He is Champion of the Clan and has just as much authority as you do, that is, none, and you can inquire about our personalities from him and get much more candid answers than you would from us. Likewise, he is familiar with how all three of us came to our posts as Mothers and our duties before and now.

"Garrett, answer the lady truthfully, I know you don't have a subtle bone in your body, so don't waste effort trying to be gracious about us. We are aware we have defects and you may be candid. If they want to string banners and pass out party favors, by all means, humor them. When you have reached sufficient agreement and trivia exchanged and want to bring in the Undersecretary to address real issues, let us know and we'll return." The Mothers got up in no particular hurry and started out.

"I hate to report you've already walked out on the negotiations," Ms. Houke said.

"Let's be clear here underling," the First Mother said, pausing on her way out, "you can't play this sort of petty passive-aggressive blame game with me. The negotiations have not started, because nobody with authority is present on your side of the table. I'm afraid my dear, that your bosses don't take us seriously. We are accommodating your culture to offer negotiations at all, after war is declared.

"If your boss was interested in getting to know us at a personal level, he would have been in your seat chatting with us. This is just dominance tactics. Try it long enough and we will go home where we have work to do. Take advantage of Garrett here to get a feel for what Derf are like, if you are interested. You'll find no better use for your time today I believe. At least I am honest in telling you he has no authority to negotiate, which is the first thing you should have told us about yourself."

After they left Garrett removed his greaves and gauntlets and laid the ceremonial axe on the table so he could sit. "I might as well be comfortable to talk to you. Ask anything you want."

"Why not," Ms. Houke asked rhetorically. "What does a Champion do?"

Garrett smiled. "I'm the closest thing we have to a lawyer," he said, looking at each lawyer in turn. "If the Mothers from different clans can't agree after extensive efforts, their Champion and I decide a legal case by combat. I'm so new I have not had a formal combat. I'm also the head of the militia and act as a ceremonial figure representing the clan just as your nations have special units, who wear historical uniforms. That was what I was doing while the Mothers were present."

"So you've never actually killed anybody with that fancy axe?" Evelyn smirked.

"Well no, I said formal combat. Unfortunately, just three days ago I had a gentleman ignore my instructions to stop trying to enter our rooms here. He made an aiming gesture at me," Garrett illustrated with a thrusting hand, "and I split him," he said with another graphic hand gesture. "Turns out he only had a Taser, which was really stupid. If he hadn't hurried me so, I wouldn't have killed him. If I can offer one piece of advice to Humans it would be, don't scare a Derf with an axe in his hand. It's going to end badly if you do."

They all sat looking at the axe silently for a moment.

"I'm sorry if you weren't briefed on that," Garrett said. "I'd have thought they'd tell you if only to avoid having a repeat. It's very important you don't try to force your way past an armed guard. Isn't it the same on Earth?" he asked them, honestly puzzled.

"It is," Evelyn admitted, "but we are used to the idea of firearms and an axe is so different. It's hard to explain why but an edged weapon is just so visceral."

"Isn't it?" Garrett agreed, laying his hand on the bronze. "This axe is almost four thousand years old. It has the history of every duel engraved on it. Some of the lines have had to be recut as they grew faint. Also the battle deaths of three champions who carried it into war, including my instructor and his seven duels. That was an unusually active career. Some have carried it a lifetime and never used it in anger."

"Surely you must have other duties than just waiting around for a legal impasse, that may never happen in your lifetime?" Evelyn asked.

Garrett looked at her quizzically. "There is our militia to maintain. I'm actively the head of ground forces, so I set up training and certification schedules. Even after apprenticing to the Champion, I'm still learning a lot from my officers, but we qualify all males with rifles, very much like your Swiss nation. Quite a few have to know small unit tactics. Everybody has a 20mm assault weapon and body armor. Each squad has certain special weapons carriers, anti-armor, and anti-air. I have to present a procurement budget to the Mothers and am involved with maintenance, and the dispersal of caches. I'm currently training two assistants in the maintenance and deployment of nuclear assets and all the squad leaders in the associated tactics. So I am busy enough."

"Nuclear assets?" Evelyn asked, uncomfortable.

"Your short company of Marines that landed on Red Tree land were killed with an enhanced radiation device. A neutron bomb. You didn't think we just bought one, did you?" Garrett asked, amused. "In time, as Champion, I need to learn the space side of war. But we have two fine commanders handling that for now. The war will probably be over before I get a chance for space training. I'm only twenty-four in your T-years. The previous Champion, William, was just shy of a hundred fifty-two when he died. It's hard to replace that kind of experience. But I really have very little authority and not enough of a career to have much in the way of interesting stories. Didn't you want to know more about the Mothers?" he prodded.

"I'm not sure what I should be asking," Evelyn admitted. "What do you think I should ask?"

"I don't have any Human friends and we haven't had Humans live with the clan like others. So my ability to compare cultures is limited. However, the Champion had me watch a lot of Human videos to help understand Human culture. I suspect the word mother may get in the way of understanding what a Mother is to Derf. A Derf Mother doesn't keep a house separate from the community and meet her children and husband there to spend a private evening together like I see in your videos. Even mates with a life contract often skip sharing a residence. Many people take turns watching and teaching children. So I knew my mother, but I might as often spend a day with an uncle or a cousin, or an evening with an aunt. It was communal, but not what you folks call communism. My mother was a busy executive, so she didn't have a lot of time for just sitting around being idle company. If I was with her it had a purpose. I learned a great deal by observing her work. Before she was Second Mother she was already chiefly responsible for supply and storage of food for the clan," he said with pride.

"It's not a small job to plan and delegate for three thousand plus people. To decide what must be planted and harvested, what must be raised, slaughtered, and preserved. What must be bought for cash money or sold and how it all must be transported, stored, and regulated as it is dispensed, or turned into meals to last until the next seasonal cycle. It's at least as complicated as running one of the restaurants I've been to here at the station. Mother is a title of deep respect based on merit, not simple biology. You might be better served to call them the First, Second, and Third Executives," Garrett suggested.

"What would a soldier learn from a food production executive?" Evelyn asked, confused.

"How to manage subordinates, how much to delegate to subordinates, and how to know and deal with one who doesn't have the capacity to perform. How to tell if it is inability, or if they are obstructing you. How to see if a loss is from a bad system, or deliberate fraud and theft. People and management skills are universal."

"Why would any of this matter to us?" Evelyn asked.

"What I'm trying to show you is that they are busy and used to giving orders, resolving issues, and moving on. We have no tradition of drawn-out negotiations. They dictate to all but their peers – other clan Mothers. When clan Mothers meet they have little time and speak their mind bluntly to other Clan Mothers. Wordiness is not valued or rewarded.

"Today, you were wasting their time. Once they knew there was no work going to be accomplished they went off and will doubtless try to use the day productively. If you persist in not presenting someone with authority and having a serious discussion, I would expect them to see this all as a wasted effort and go home fairly quickly."

"But if they walk off how can we ever resolve our differences and end the war?" Evelyn protested.

He hesitated, like it was a strange question. "Well, you can die," he offered.

"How can you even expect us to sit and talk with you if you make ridiculous threats?" Evelyn said irritated and dismissive.

Garrett sat and thought about it awhile. "I don't know how to persuade you it isn't ridiculous. I'll leave that to the Mothers. I'm just a soldier and convincing you is not my job. If they tell me to kill people and bust stuff, I do it as well as I can."

"If I thought they would do so lightly I'd have never taken the job," Garrett said. "We have a history of war, but it has been rare and never for trivial reasons. I'd have been happy to be Champion of Red Tree and die old, never having hoisted the axe, or heard of war."

"Isn't one young girl a rather trivial reason to declare war?" Evelyn complained.

Garrett looked at her with his mouth hanging open. Even to one unfamiliar with Derf it was obvious he was shocked. Then he recovered. The narrowed eyes and flat ears required no interpreter. "Perhaps if it were you," he agreed, icily. "Do tell me, at what level would war become reasonable? Ten of your citizens kidnapped? A hundred? A thousand? Or is war reasonable for someone important, but not a young girl, as you say? Perhaps we should war with you over a Mother, but not a farmer? I can tell you this. If another clan had kidnapped one of ours, the Mothers governing the other clan would have instantly understood it was declaring war. They would expect no other response."

"It's not like that," Evelyn objected. "You make us sound callous. War is too risky with modern weapons. You risk things getting out of control and vast damage and many deaths over one person. Should a thousand or ten thousand or a million die for one? Nobody will risk that anymore."

"You make my point for me. You did risk it. You should have known that was the risk, which is exactly why we would never kidnap one of yours. If the Mothers did not act to protect one and indeed the least of their citizens, why would we give them our loyalty? If our Mothers discarded one of our own like a soiled ass wipe because they were too cowardly to risk war. I assure you the males would put all three of them to the axe," Garrett said, stroking the bronze weapon head to emphasize his point.

"More than that, if you allow others to take your people, like it is no more than stealing a pig from your woods, it emboldens them to do it whenever the whim strikes them. Soon none of yours are safe anywhere, because you are seen as afraid to protect your own. I find it hard to believe that isn't the same in any society.

"I was supposed to tell you about the Mothers. They did not task me with finding out anything about you or making a report. However, my unsolicited advice to the Mothers is going to be this: Don't trust these people, they have no moral sense."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Evelyn said, but carefully didn't validate his feelings, just acknowledged them. "The undersecretary will view this discussion and decide how to address these issues. I'll urge him to take this seat tomorrow."

"Best you do," Garrett urged. "The Mothers saw no reason to waste their time with you and I have frankly had my fill of it already. If it is just you again tomorrow, you can sit and talk to the wall for all I care. Even I have better use for my time." He took his armor and left.

* * *

-Media Headlines-Shorts

Vancouver View: Press accompanying State Department unable to find local accommodations to cover Derf talks. Single independent reporter is sole source.

Space Industry News: Two in Indian craft lost to orbital junk. Huge problem remains from Derf raid.

Fargone AP News Feed: Reports USNA fired on own forces in Fargone system.

Faith Observer: Gilead system declares neutrality to combatants.

John Hartug's Financial Summary: Reflagging of USNA vessels results in claims shortfalls and pharmaceutical shortages. Indium shortages plague optical industries. Platinum up, stocks down, on uncertainty.

Ishpeming Online Reporter: Federal agencies still have no comment on missing heiress.

Toronto University Web: School reports research vessel with students late.

* * *

"Can the High Hopes pair up with the Retribution please?" Lee asked.

"That's what I was planning anyway," Gordon admitted. "But why?"

"Well I'm attached to her and would like to see the bigger ship protecting her and I assumed you'd stay on the Retribution, and I'm not a militia member, so I don't feel I belong on board the military vessel." Gordon was nodding happy agreement. "And I've been separated too long from you, so I want to stay as close as possible, so I'd prefer to be on the High Hopes. After all, I know her better and will be more useful there too."

"We didn't pry you loose just to put you at risk again!" Gordon objected.

"So it wasn't the principle of the thing, after all, it was just me?" Lee asked.

"Both, but we're at war, and all our ships are at risk," Gordon said.

"So it's OK for you and all these other folks," Lee swept an arm over the crowd, "to risk their necks but not me?"

"You already have been a prisoner and been treated badly. Nobody is going to begrudge you a chance to sit back and recover from the rough experience," Gordon said.

"Oh poor delicate little me… If it had been you the Earthies snatched instead of me how long would you be looking to spend on R&R to recover?" Lee asked.

Gordon furrowed his brows up and was about to continue the argument when Thor interrupted. "She is right, you are wrong, and it's time to shut up and yield before you make an ass of yourself. May I remind you that at about the same age you walked away from your clan and all the security and protection it could give you, if you would just agree to sit on your butt and make barrels all day? You aren't even offering her the dignity of making barrels. I wouldn't blame her if she took her ship and went off to make her own way if you try to bully her."

"She owns two thirds," Gordon insisted. It was the wrong thing to say.

"Would you take a half-billion USNA dollars for your share?" Lee asked, pulling her com out and keying something in one-handed. A transfer one might assume. Some of the new crew, who didn't know her circumstances, looked a bit stunned at the casual way such a huge sum was offered.

"I am content to let my interest ride," Gordon said in a strained voice.

"Ships disappear in jump, or I might bust it badly," Lee admitted readily.

"You'll have Retribution watching over you," Gordon agreed begrudgingly. "I agree you have a right to direct your life. Or risk it even."

"Thank you. I'm going to need some good crew, somebody who can instruct me on stuff like navigation and ship handling," Lee said.

"Well you obviously can't poach our crews," Thor told her. "You'll have to recruit from the civilian side. Fortunately, Fargone is a good spot to do that."

"The couple who ferried it here would be worth talking to," Gordon suggested. "The Wilsons are Loonies by citizenship. He is ex-military and she is from a ship family. They might still be in-system, as they were looking to get a ride here specifically."

That was good. If Gordon was making suggestions he wasn't sulking.

"If you want short crews maybe they would be enough?" Lee asked.

"No, you need four experienced hands who can stand watches. You will be learning, but it will be quite a while before you can handle anything alone. That's a crew of five. That's easy enough on the environmental systems if you pick all Humans."

"Clare will be with me too. I'm responsible for her. Consider her family. But we can bunk together and the two of us are so low mass it is no extra burden on environmental."

Gordon didn't have any argument left in him. He lifted one eye ridge dramatically but didn't object. "You should teach her to do support roles like you did when we went out. Cleaning and filters and cooking and such. She'd feel better about herself being useful anyway."

"Oh, sure. I figured that as a given." Then she got the funniest look. "But I think I better have that conversation with her before we are fifty light-years from home and she says: "You want me to do what?"

"Heh, you are growing up," Gordon noted.

"If the Mothers will sell me the Dr. Whitney, I intend to name it The Champion William," Lee informed him.

"I shall suggest doing that, even if they don't want to sell it," Gordon agreed.

* * *

"Good morning. You are, Undersecretary of State Molson?" the First Mother asked quizzically. She consulted the com at her elbow and scrolled scanning the information there.

"Are you the Jacob Molson that was an aide to Ferris Hu? Our list is perhaps a year old and we don't show you or Ms. Houke being senior staff."

"There has been considerable shifting of personnel and re-appointments, since the impeachment and conviction of the President and Vice President," Molson admitted.

"I'd rather have expected the Secretary for Interstellar Affairs to be sitting there instead of State. Our understanding was State mostly dealt with other Earth nations now. I don't mean to be rude or belittle anyone, but how do I know you are fully authorized to speak for your nation? If things are as unstable as this suggests, will the same people be in charge by the time you carry an agreement home?" the First Mother asked.

"Interstellar Affairs was stricken worse than State by the shake-up," Molson explained. "Three secretaries in succession quit and nobody was left of sufficient maturity to trust with a mission of such gravity. I have a letter giving me the authority to re-confirm the Treaty of Man and express our commitment to it. I'll have that fetched and present it to you now."

"That seems sufficient. Let's proceed with business then, on the assumption your letter is wide enough in power and intent to allow an agreement," the First Mother agreed. "Now, our needs are two: To reaffirm the provisions of the original Treaty of Man and to give it teeth. We found out with the seizure of Lee Anderson and the fact your government did not reprimand the official responsible for that action and move to correct it, that your laws are not always enforced. In clan custom, if a law is not enforced it is void. We don't attach a specific penalty to breaking a law, because the Mothers are expected to apply a rational appraisal of intent and how badly a law was broken, before telling a lawbreaker what the Mothers see as necessary to correct it. It was an error expecting the same from your system, but we were too newly acquainted. Do you see any problem with agreeing to this?"

Molson looked absolutely shell shocked by the speed with which the Mother laid out their demands. "I, uh. I'm not even sure how to address you. This is not how we are used to proceeding. Could you perhaps back up and define what you consider the problem to be first?"

The First Mother looked at him with barely concealed contempt. "They are not complex issues. A judge of your political sub-unit of California, arrested a citizen of Red Tree when she was a victim of local crime. Her Human bodyguards were cleared of any wrongdoing, yet strangely she was not. He excluded her father from the hearing and declared him an animal – a non-person – expressed utter contempt for our law, which by treaty was declared binding on all matters involving our citizens and sent her to be forced into a foster family who she had never met. This when she was not found guilty of any wrong. He did this over the objections of their own prosecutor, who did not wish to pursue the matter. Yet your central government did nothing to correct the situation."

"Actually she wasn't arrested," Molson argued. "She was held in protective custody because she was a minor."

"If I seize you and lock you up right now in a room – just for your own safety," the First Mother said in a mocking tone. "Exactly how many days will it take you to understand locked up, is frigging LOCKED UP! - No matter how many cute weasel words you use to excuse what was done?"

"I don't believe you'd do that," Molson said, somewhat uncertainly.

"Why not? Derf have their share of utter fools the same as Humans. Don't we have the right to have a turn at being just as duplicitous and asinine as you? Must it fall on us to be the only plain-speaking reasonable party? It is not an enjoyable role to carry alone, let me assure you."

"I, I object to that characterization. We tried to recover the girl and our recovery team was assaulted and killed to the man in Michigan," Molson said.

"Ah, how many Derf did you say attacked this group?" the First Mother asked Molson.

"Uh, none."

"Oh, was that team then intent on restoring her to us?" she asked.

"I'd assume so," Molson agreed.

"Then it seems strange an armed group from the Office of Naval Intelligence tried to seize her again, after she was safely off-planet and headed home. The skeptic in me thinks they would have returned her to Federal custody, not helped speed her on her way home. In any case, they left you with a rather unhappy neighbor in the Lunar Republic and another broken treaty with the Hinth didn't they?" the First Mother asked sweetly, smiling for Molson.

"That is something that the last I heard we're still not sure what happened. The President and Vice President accepted an invitation to emigrate to Mars and the Secretary of the Navy committed suicide under suspicious circumstances. We may never know what happened. All I can assure you is that the current administration has no desire to regain custody of Miss Anderson and we want to put this entire thing behind us," Molson vowed.

"That should be easy," the First Mother told him. "Draft a document affirming all the same terms of the previous treaty and append a declaration that acting against the terms of the Treaty of Man, or trying to subvert it, is the same as treason against your own state. We'll be happy to sign it, and... done."

"There are also the matters of ships taken and reparations for losses, including the man your guard killed a few days ago in the corridor outside this room. We ask for an armistice also, until our Legislature can ratify the Treaty."

"No, no, and no. If you start a war you can't finish you will take your lumps and live with it. The fellow trying to break in and bug our rooms here fits the definition of a spy in your law. We were perfectly legal by your own laws of war to execute him out of hand. If you want to compensate his family for sending him to be killed that is your concern. An armistice gives you no incentive to wrap this up. If we remove the pressure from you, I can easily see you back here in a few months trying to wiggle out of what you already agreed to."

"Surely you don't think if you continue to prosecute this war, you can stand against our superior forces?" Molson asked. "We have several counties, bigger and more populous than Red Tree."

"I am growing weary," the First Mother sighed. She looked to the Third Mother. "Would you please answer him, dear?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm somewhat less gracious than my superior," she informed Molson. "We are by every measure winning," she pointed out. "We are not interested in your surrender. It would have no value to us. We offer a fair relationship or your destruction. So, accept what the First Mother offered or fight, damn you."

"I was sent here to reaffirm the Treaty," Molson agreed. "But I was not told I could give away additional terms, or cave in to threats. If you are going to threaten me I'll pack up this mob and go back to Vancouver."

"It * won't * be * there," said the Second Mother slowly, like to a thick child.

"What won't?" Molson asked. Her change in manner got his attention.

"Vancouver. There will be a crater there three or four miles across and a half-mile or so deep. Most of Washington and a good chunk of B.C. will be wiped clean too. The weapon to do so is positioned waiting for our word, like a cocked gun pointed at your head." She illustrated with a true hand aimed between his eyes, thumb cocked back ready to fall.

"If you want to be the man who goes down in history as bringing that down on your nation, then go home. But be aware of what you will find there."

"You wouldn't dare," Molson growled.

"Try us," the Third Mother said. The others nodded agreement.

* * *

The gas giant filled half the sky with a bright patterned wall of pale lemon streaked with white and pink and occasional flecks of green. Retribution and High Hopes orbited inside the ring system and with the natural direction of orbiting debris. The tanks of both vessels and the external tanks they both wore were full, as every assigned crew member had been given a chance to control the winged drones that scooped and processed atmosphere to extract fuel.

"When we get back to Fargone, how long will it take to install similar fuel mining systems on the warships?" Lee wondered. She, Gordon, and both crews were all linked in a video conferencing session. Their command structure worked top down, but they didn't hoard information like a Human system. It looked casual, but it allowed valuable feedback, such as when they had captured the destroyer, using the idea of forcing them to eject their lifeboats and missiles while in weapons range.

"Only about three days, assuming they have been delivered to the repair yard. They are going in external hangers, two drones to each ship, with no internal modifications. The wings fold so they are not that big and they will be installed staggered opposite each other on the hull, so one strike in battle is unlikely to destroy both. A control module goes on the flight deck and some cable will be pulled down the central run to the area they weld the hangers on the outside. There will be a new antenna hung outside, a few new spares entered in stores and it will be operational," Gordon said.

"Why doesn't everybody use them?" Lee wondered.

"Well little gal, fuel is cheap. If you just count the cost of the system it is over a seven-year break-even point to pay for the investment," Gordon explained.

"But if you honestly count the cost of idling the ship’s company for mining operations and downtime from what you want a warship doing, then it is never going to reach a break-even condition. Besides, when you set a ship up to be self-sufficient in fuel it can stay out a long time. If they can set up a hydroponics system somewhere, or arrange for resupply from some friendly base, then it becomes a real possibility to have space pirates."

Lee was quiet thinking all that over.

"And no, I don't want to run up the Jolly Roger and try it as a lifestyle," Gordon added.

"Me either," Lee hastened to agree, "but why not fit the explorers with one of those external pea-shooters like you put on Sharp Claws?"

"Why do they need them when they are escorted?" Gordon asked.

"It limits operations if we can't ever separate them when they visit a new system. I'd feel better if the explorers had at least one long-range weapon and it is another external system, so it isn't a long term re-fit like adding missile bays. They're cheap. It's not like we can't afford it," Lee pointed out.

"I've been mulling over the same idea myself," Gordon revealed. "After seeing Sharp Claws use theirs, I'd like one with a longer tube, set up to shoot a smaller projectile faster. You just need to damage a target beyond use not shatter it to pieces. And if you increase the velocity it is more effective against a target that may maneuver. If it cycles faster you can fire a spread to cover an area of probable maneuver, or fire them all on a single bearing for massive effect."

"And if they are armed they can take a prize alone, should they encounter a USNA registered ship," Lee suggested.

"Or avoid being retaken themselves, if they have to confront a USNA warship," Gordon added.

"You going to order a couple fabricated then?" Lee said hopefully.

"Next message drone we send out I'd add that message on," Gordon promised. "The Mothers will send it on to New Japan and I'd guess they will take three or four days to fabricate it. I remember back when I first went out with your Mom And Dad, a shipyard would take a couple of weeks to make something like this. Machining and assembly have gotten a lot faster. Figure we have a week to kill before we want to catch up with the drones. The Mothers won't waste the money to send a special messenger drone, so it will go out on the dailies. What can we do with a week to kill and four starships?"

* * *

"Sir, the local web posted that the U of Toronto vessel Dr. Whitney was taken as a prize and the Red Tree Mothers have approved of the taking and have issued contracts for work on the vessel," Evelyn Houke told Molson.

"The double-crossing bastards! Sitting talking to us and hunting our shipping at the same time!" Molson growled. He bunched his fist like he was going to pound the table, then restrained himself. "That does it. I'm going to order everybody back home and recommend we prosecute this war seriously. They can't make fools of us that easily."

"But sir, they clearly rejected any armistice. That was not hidden," Evelyn reminded him.

"Yes, and I should have walked then. I thought they might have the brains to refuse an armistice for appearance sake, but quietly call their people off to avoid provoking us. It is crazy for them to refuse to acknowledge we are bigger and better armed."

"Secretary Molson, I understand our mission is to reaffirm the Treaty of Man. I do not want to go back and announce we failed such a simple task. Surely nobody expected us to do so with absolutely no changes. We don't have a time machine to restore things as if nothing has transpired. And if the Congress does not like the additional terms, they can refuse to ratify the Treaty and send another mission. Do you have some hidden instructions of which I am not aware, to refuse any agreement outside the original words of the Treaty?" Evelyn asked.

"Not at all," Molson admitted, "but I'm not going to return in disgrace, having yielded to these primitives. My career would be over and you would be caught up in backlash too. Send another mission? Bah! That would be ruin for us. Now I'm not as fuzzy-minded as our predecessors to think our furry friends are not sentient, but I'll be damned if that means they are our peers either. There is still considerable sentiment against them in Congress and administration. I won't let them push us around any more than I'd let Bangladesh or Belize dictate to us. They should be damned grateful we are willing to end this without making an example of them and what do I get? Belligerence!"

"Sir, I am going to be forced to submit my resignation," Evelyn said firmly. "I won't be going back with you."

"What! You're going to cut and run like half the previous administration?" Molson sneered.

"Yes sir, those who quit were quite correct and you are wrong," Evelyn said not backing down. "When you get back and Vancouver is a glowing crater, there is going to be very little public forgiveness for calling their hand to drop a rock. And as you said, being your number two I believe the blame would attach to me also. I don't think I can escape some responsibility for not persuading you otherwise. I have every expectation if I return with you, I will be imprisoned at the very best. Executed at worst."

"If they did manage to drop a rock on Vancouver we'd still be a nation," Molson said. "We wouldn't have surrendered our sovereignty to a bunch of tribal hicks."

Evelyn thought of asking him how much of a nation they would have if Red Tree followed up with a strike on New York and New Orleans and Mexico City. It seemed futile to say from the look on his face. She made one modest attempt to sway him: "Setting a penalty, for what already existed in law is hardly a surrender of sovereignty."

"It is to me. I'm not yielding a damn thing they didn't have before, and if we still had that little traitor bitch I'd see her prosecuted for treason to her race, to rot in a Federal prison," Molson swore.

The emotional words were a new window on his true feelings. He'd never once slipped and mentioned any feelings of racial animus before. Evelyn had a moment of panic at his words, wondering if the words would go straight back to the Mothers’ ears. She decided that wasn't their style. They were simply too straight forward to sneak around planting bugs. She'd thought all this posturing about racial superiority had been purged with the change of administration, but here it was again. It filled her with both dread and a sense of freedom. It changed everything. Aloud she said: "I'll write a formal resignation and submit it for your approval."

"Whatever pleases you," Molson said dismissively. She wasn't a factor to him now. "I suggest you don't waste a lot of time on long-winded self-justification. A factual sentence or two is quite sufficient." He was obviously disgusted with her.

"I agree. I'll turn in my ID and access cards when I return," Evelyn said.

She went to her room and assembled a briefcase with what she needed. The audio recorder on her com with Molson's words she downloaded to mission files and backed them up with a commercial service. She mailed them to several friends, the single reporter on-station, and after a stomach-churning hesitation, the Mothers of Red Tree.

When Evelyn returned the Marine guard held the door for her. That was her biggest worry. She put the case down and opened it. When she lifted the pistol from it Molson barely had time to register shock in his eyes, before the first round pierced his breast bone. She followed it with two more as he slumped to the deck. She was a very good shot. She'd not wasted another word on him, because it was past any further discussion.

She may have ruined her own life and career, but she was sure she'd saved several million lives and her own government, possibly even her nation. Evelyn laid the pistol back in the open case and stood quietly, hands empty, until the Marine came in carbine held at the ready.

"Ma'am," he said looking in the corners of the room, like there must be someone else responsible. "I'd very much appreciate it if you'd step back away from the pistol." He touched the mike at his throat and called someone.

"No problem soldier. I think this is going to take awhile. I'll drag this chair away from the desk and sit until we sort this out." She moved the chair with ease, as it was lighter than it looked. She took it all the way against the wall, sat down, and made herself comfortable. If anyone understood why she had removed the Undersecretary this way, it would be the Mothers, she thought. Evelyn smiled at the irony of it and her little smile disquieted the Marine.

Chapter 51

Survey System 4799 was a USNA planet colony named Amber for the coloring of the planet as seen by the discoverers. It had attained ten thousand population the third year of its settlement. In its twelfth year now it had a bit over thirty thousand in population, with about ten thousand in the area of one city on the second planet and five thousand in space throughout the system. The rest were scattered in various mines and scientific outposts.

The surface of the world was temperate, but the atmosphere was unbreathable due to volcanism, with no significant free oxygen, just nitrogen, carbon dioxide, argon, and enough hydrogen sulfide and other sulfur compounds to require filtering to use it as a neutral base for an oxygen mix. It rained dilute sulfuric acid. There were plains where fairly pure elemental sulfur could be literally scooped up, but there was no market to justify the shipping. The oceans were heavily acidic. Fortunately, oxygen was readily electrolyzed from local water.

As was USNA policy, the colony was able to vote in any form of local government they wished at ten thousand population, and they had opted for a city form of government, with an appointed manager and ten elected counselors advising him, able to remove him with seven of ten votes.

They were required by charter to hold a referendum on modifying this form of governance when their system population reached a half million. It would be a while. Terraforming was going slowly due to the toxic nature of the atmosphere. Anaerobic bacteria and fungi did well and helped develop soil, but green plants were far too heavily stressed to survive.

Most importantly to the Derf, they had retained ties to North America, with a mutual defense treaty that obligated them to give first right of refusal on trade to USNA defense-related industries. This applied mostly to the mining of selenium, tellurium, and gold. They also retained dual citizenship and Amber citizens could enlist directly in the USNA armed forces.

Given that local career options were to become part of a very small Terraforming Department, a government with about a hundred members, including a planetary police force of twenty, or some form of mining, many took the service option. Amber was over-represented in the USNA military and they had a frigate or destroyer assigned to orbit Amber and do occasional system cruises. It was basically a recruiting office and symbol of USNA affiliation. It spent much of its time docked to the principal space station and had weekly tours for the brighter Amber school children. Its payroll and docking fees were a big boost to the Amber budget. After a six month tour, it would be replaced by another frigate or destroyer.

When four unscheduled ships appeared suddenly and immediately did a high powered radar scan with what had to be military radar, the young commander of the George Taylor, Jon Havenstein happened to be onboard. He made the correct tactical decision and ordered a ten-minute recall for any personnel on the station and announced an emergency undock in fifteen minutes. This before any hail identified the incoming squadron.

While it saved his command, it destroyed his career. He correctly surmised it could not be a friendly force and saw he could not fight and he still had time to run. Earth was on a vector much too close to the incoming force but he had several choices the other way and picked one that was a gateway system to a USNA forward supply base.

It might have helped if he had waited another two minutes for the Derf to identify themselves, but he announced his intent to undock to station control and suggested an evacuation of dependents to the surface. It was not well received. Captain Havenstein also neglected to ask station control to censor the system traffic scan. So his departure announcement went out publically before he even undocked.

 Havenstein departed at the seventeen-minute mark, having left his hatch open for an extra five minutes, which got him three more crewmembers. It was still one of the fastest emergency departures of recent naval history. He left two crew on-station and five on the surface, a full third of his ship's company. He expended two of his four drones knowing they would pass through the effective weapons envelope of the incoming ships and hoping one would get word to Earth. Gordon had no reason to keep their passage secret, so he let both pass unmolested.

Indeed the four Derf ships had not altered vector or started decelerating to reach Amber orbit or their station before he departed. They would have if he'd stayed put, no reason not to add a frigate to their collection, but his departure made that maneuver pointless, so they altered course unslowed to another jump point. For those eager to condemn the young Captain, it was easy to assume the Derf squadron had never intended to dock or capture him and his flight was simple cowardice. The damage to Amber-USNA trust and their relationship was total and permanent. The world would vote to go independent after a year of nasty accusations and recriminations. It was one of the most effective military actions of the war without a shot fired.

"Station scan announces the USNA frigate George Taylor is on a fifteen-minute count to depart to Survey System 4802, Weisener's World. Too bad he didn't stay put," Thor said over com from the Sharp Claws. "Is there anything on station worth raiding?"

"That's the main choke point for the USNA naval base in System 4803. They have a fuel operation and a half dozen in system ships. There’s no telling what is there being fueled, or getting repair there, that could give us serious trouble quickly. Let's avoid it. No reason to stop here now. They may have gold on station along with other metals, but I don't want to initiate a boarding action. I bet somebody would resist on this big of a station and it would get us all the wrong sort of publicity to shoot up the station and tear it apart to find gold. We don't know but what the last shipment may have just gone out recently and we'd be fighting for an empty vault.

"The frigate will beat us out of the system by a good forty minutes, even if we race him for the same jump point. Alter course in ten minutes for New Troy, Survey System 4807, and let's do our first synchronized jump just to give them an eyeful," Gordon ordered. "I want an early triple confirmation of clock sync to go together or we spread and do a late jump."

* * *

The call from the Marine guard had his superior, a sergeant-major, and the State Department official next in rank under Ms. Houke, Albert Giovanni, the manager of the hotel, and the head of station security all crowded into the room regarding Evelyn and wondering what to do with her.

"Obviously, you need to arrest Ms. Houke and we shall return her to North America for trial after our negotiations are complete," Giovanni told the Marines. "I'm next in line to head this delegation and intend to proceed quickly to accomplish what we were sent to do. This is an internal matter to us and I see no reason for it to matter to the Derf at all."

"This delegation has diplomatic immunity," said the Sergeant Major. "The Derf have no right to arrest Ms. Houke for any variety of homicide if they follow anything like Earth custom. However, I can't see that I have any authority to detain her either. We are not on USNA territory, not even in an embassy. I can't see how I can force her to board a USNA ship either, unless we went through extradition with the Derf, which I was told does not exist. We're here to protect the delegation and we may answer for failing to do that, even internally, but I don't see an immediate threat upon which I should act now."

"Station Security has very limited arrest powers," their head, a young honey-toned Derf named Michelangelo informed them. "We could hold her if we had a reasonable expectation that she was a danger to the public, until a set of clan Mothers who claim an interest agree to sit on the case and render judgment. However, look at her…She laid down her weapon and offers no threat to anyone else, meekly sitting and waiting on us to sort matters out. This appears to be a political killing, not an act of a deranged person or done for criminal profit. As such, it is not a criminal matter under Derf law. Assassination is an entirely normal process of Derf law in matters of secession. The Mothers of Red Tree obviously have an interest, but the most they would do to an envoy is declare them unwanted and expel them."

"Well if they expel her, then she will come back into our custody and be returned to trial," Giovanni asserted again. That was obviously what he wanted. "Once on a USNA ship away from dock, she is certainly under USNA law."

"Unless she does not volunteer to board and finds passage on a foreign ship, or goes to another clan territory or neutral trading town on Derfhome," Michelangelo pointed out. "Red Tree could only expel her from their territory."

"Is anyone willing to hear what I have to say?" Evelyn asked a bit peevishly.

"Don't you think it would be safer to remain silent until you have an attorney?" Giovanni asked her. "Anything you say may come out at trial and frankly it looks very bad," he told her, looking over his shoulder where Undersecretary of State Molson was still sprawled uncovered.

"Oh bag the prissy righteous air and the long face, Al. You're thrilled because you think you are suddenly the big cheese and you'd have shot the arrogant son-of-a-bitch yourself if you could have gotten away with it. However, I shot the man not for any trivial spite, but directly in the interests of our mission. I do not cede leadership to you. Molson intended to return to Earth immediately, without attaining the restoration of the Treaty that is our mission objective. I have him on my audio recorder," she said patting her pocket, "saying he doesn't care if his action precipitates the bombardment of Vancouver, with death for millions. He then goes on a tirade which shows he had private racial prejudices, exactly like those that destroyed the previous administration. I shot a traitor, bent on destroying our mission, and bringing ruin on our nation. I have no apologies at all. Who wants to hear it?" Evelyn asked, pulling out the recorder.

"Perhaps it would be better to hear it privately instead of involving the Derf," the Marine suggested.

"No, they need to know who has authority to negotiate," Evelyn insisted. "If they don't hear this and get your reaction to it they are going to have doubts they are dealing with the proper authority." She switched on the recorder and let it run. She watched the expressions on their faces as they heard her trying to reason with him and his shocking willingness to risk their capital to destruction over his pride and career.

"Ma'am, I acknowledge you are the head of the delegation, and stand ready to take your orders," the sergeant-major acknowledged when it was done.

"But you resigned," Giovanni still objected, hopefully, but without power.

"Ah, but I didn't," Evelyn pointed out. "I said I was going to resign, as a ruse to go get a weapon," she explained. "I lied." She slowly turned her head and looked thoughtfully at the pistol. You could see Giovanni stiffen and he quickly proclaimed his acceptance and loyalty. She hadn't said a threatening word, just looked at the weapon, but he was a personal coward and he'd seen what happened when somebody got between her and her mission.

Even with the Marines in the room, he was afraid of her now.

* * *

"Do you know that almost a fifth of the stars in our volume of exploration have not had a System Survey done on them?" Lee asked. "A few have sketchy reports from ships that did a system transit, but mostly those are just general assessments of how much debris is in the planetary plane to be avoided and perhaps sightings of gas giants. After we get this all sorted out we should visit those unexplored systems. Especially on the Earth – Derfhome vector."

"Most of them are of spectral types that have low-metal stony planets or little planetary material at all. A few have such intense or variable radiation that there is no reasonable zone in which useful planets could exist. They were bypassed for a reason," Gordon explained.

"I know, but if there are any anomalies they might be valuable just because of where they are. And we know much less about those kinds of star systems because we have a preference for metals," Lee said. "We might find something consistently useful by examining these oddballs."

"Well, you have enough money you can afford to waste a bunch of it on a hunch and it certainly won't ruin you," Gordon said. "In fact no need to tie up a real explorer ship to do this. All of these are by definition among explored systems and near settled worlds, so a conventional ship could be set up to survey these very cheaply."

"OK, it's on my to-do list. What is New Troy like? Are we going to zip through it too, or stop for anything? Lee asked.

"That depends on the Trojans," Gordon said. "They are a religious world, that was set up for agricultural development. They allow very limited industry, as long as it can be run without long term pollution. They are reasonable about it, but it was settled to accommodate Amish, Mennonite, and a number of other religions that claim to be pacifist. They are by charter USNA protected, but nobody really has any reason to give them trouble. They consider themselves neutrals. We'll see if they want anything to do with us. If we are welcome we'll see about getting provisioned and kill a couple of days. If not, we'll go on to Bountiful and see if the Mothers left any messages for us."

* * *

"We are agreed in all particulars then?" the First Mother inquired again.

"Yes, the document we both have is identical and I will sign it with the intent of presenting it to our Congress. I see no reason they should fail to ratify it. Dr. Giovanni and Counselor Parnell will both sign also."

"I'm stamping our chop," the First Mother explained inking the stamp and rocking it firmly on the paper. "That is binding on all three of us and any future Mothers of the Red Tree Clan. We have individual chops, but they don't bind the clan, just us."

The lawyer Parnell carried their copy over to the Mothers and the Third Mother carried their copy around to the Humans. They both signed their copy and there was an audible sigh of relief from Ms. Houke.

"This satisfies the Nation of Red Tree," the First Mother declared and added the legalistic formula, "I have spoken," which made it law. The other Mothers verbally acknowledged it. "We will send word by special drone to our space forces to stand down from initiating hostilities. If they are attacked they will attempt to inform the forces attacking them, that the war has been tentatively concluded. The same notice will be propagated through the commercial drone system, to inform all independent governments."

"We also are at this moment loading a drone to inform Earth," Evelyn agreed. "I'm going to release most of my party to return home. I shall retain the courier and a handful of support people, who will remain here with me until we get word from Earth that the Congress has ratified the Treaty."

"I have a couple of questions if I may?" Evelyn Houke asked the Mothers.

"Certainly. We'll entertain them and tell you why if we won't answer them."

"Would you affirm you were prepared to strike Vancouver if there was no agreement?"

"Absolutely. It is actually a moderate action to simply decapitate your nation, instead of destroying it totally. We were concerned a strike that would destroy most of the continent would damage other Earth nations, through climate change and economic chaos, so likely bring all the worlds of Man into the fight against us."

Evelyn nodded her thanks. "One small point that has been bothering me. Is it just an assumed extension of your laws on adoption to permit it across species, or was this something you Mothers had to decide and declare as a point of law for Lee?"

The First Mother looked down at the table obviously upset and for a moment Evelyn thought she was going to refuse this question.

"When Lee was sat at our table and was introduced as kin by her father. The then First Mother of Red Tree was indeed disposed to reject her kinship. Adoption has a long history of custom, but had never been a subject of declared law. It is to our shame, that this is one of those very few laws that were imposed by a male. The males very, very, rarely interfere in the governance of the women and need very strong feelings to do so. Our previous Champion, William, was old and wise and had very good instincts on issues of morality.

"He halted our argument and informed us it was not by blood, demand or debt that one is family, except a debt of honor and that family is simply anyone you decide to treat as such. He ordered the Mothers to publish that as law. When the First Mother balked at that, he sank the axe you have seen my son Garrett carry, in the table before us to consider and informed us he'd follow the old law and remove us for shaming him if we did not do right. He declared himself Lee's personal Champion to defend that standing. I'm sitting here alive, so obviously we made it law. I'm sorry he found it necessary to force us to do what was correct. So on Derfhome, anyone is family who you say and accept as such. Outsiders have no say, no standing to interfere. Is our Family Law clear to you?" the First Mother asked.

"Very clear. Nothing could be simpler," Evelyn said.

The First Mother nodded. "Most good law has an economy of form. We are removing to the surface since we are done here. We are not going back to our keep yet, until we have a firm commitment from your Congress. We'll be in Derfhome the capital city, at the place they call The Old Hotel. We have some business to pursue anyway, with our bank and with our city cousins. We may be making some belated adjustments to how our law treats them, as fundamental as the Family Law."

"Might one call on you there? I think we have a great deal to learn still. This Treaty is good to have resolved, but I'm afraid there are many other assumptions, just waiting to become a problem. In fact, another very smart person here on the station suggested we look into setting up a real embassy. I'm willing to at least consider it."

"Yes, come on down." The First Mum invited. "Perhaps your wait can be productive," the Mothers all very much approved of using time productively.

* * *

The steam train was on pneumatic tires and the exhaust aimed straight up. It was just a shimmer of hot air instead of being sooty. The steam was almost a closed cycle and made very little noise. It didn't run on rails, it was a road train that was comfortable either on gravel roads or the herringbone pattern of bricks they laid in the city, that softened the usual noise of tires on bricks laid square to the direction of travel. The speed limit was 50km/hr, to make the roadway safe to share with horse-drawn carriages, a number of which had passed going the other way, and an amazing variety of bicycles. However, pulling three trailers the driver kept it down to a sedate 30km/hr.

Gordon was on the flatbed attached to the rear of the tractor unit, leaning in the open back window of the cab and chatting with the driver. A few people at liberty from each ship sat on the benches on the first trailer. The next two trailers had their fresh provisions from the farmer's market, piled high, ready to take a shuttle up to the ships in orbit.

"Thou hast some musical tones about thee," the driver pointed out, "Doth one of thy devilish devices demand your attention?" He said, it with a smile and a wink, so it didn't seem likely it was a very firm nor contentious point of theology with him.

"I find it insulting when others abandon their conversation with me to answer a call. If they do so and I really need to talk to them, I just pull out my phone and call them, since that is obviously the way to be first in line," Gordon explained.

"You have more character than most then. Very few can resist allowing a pocket phone to be a damnable electronic leash!" he groused.

"I'll tell you a secret," Gordon confided. "If it was a matter of life and death it would have struck two chimes instead of three."

"That's a sensible way to do it," he allowed. "The Elders were persuaded the safety they provide is worth any disruption, but I know my wife too well to carry one. She will call me every half hour with an 'emergency' if I have one in my pocket. If I break down – well, there are so many carry them, the second or third fellow along can call in for me that I'm broke down."

"I notice, when you're not baiting me about being a heathen abomination, you forget to throw in all the thees and thous," Gordon observed.

"Oh, all that stuff is just stupid," his driver admitted. "It's a dialect of English frozen in the King James Bible and has nothing to do with the origins of our faith. If we wanted to be more accurate to our origins we'd all speak German. English is an accommodation just as much as phones. English is the language of trade and space flight, science, and finance. Why fight it? Most of the German speakers here were the first generation and didn't teach it to their kids.

"I'm not a very religious person by local standards, but New Troy is a good place to live. I've been to Bountiful and Earth and Mars and you can have them. The pace is reasonable. Nobody runs any sweatshops. We don't do stuff like strip mining, unless the costs of closing the hole and replanting it are figured in. If you throw in a few thees and thous it helps you blend in, but really, nobody forces you to go to church and what you do at home is your own business if you don't blow the walls out. The young folks sort themselves out and the hell-raisers go off where there is more action for their taste. Those that don't figure out on their own they should leave, are often given a ticket as part of a court decision. Shunning here means expulsion."

"Would they accept a Derf immigrant?" Gordon asked the driver.

"Got me. I suppose the horses could get used to you," They had been very leery. "You'd look funny in a black felt hat. Perhaps if we cut ear holes?" he speculated, grinning.

"Hmm, it seems like I had a conversation much like this with my daughter about lederhosen," Gordon remembered.

That got a disbelieving look from the driver and shut him up.

They arrived at the gate to the spaceport. The fence was chest high and more intended to keep livestock off the field than any Human security consideration. The control/ radio room was a single-story building about the size of a suburban home. When they stopped to close the gate behind them a young fellow jogged out with a flimsy in his hand.

"Mr. Gordon?" the teenage boy asked.

"That's me," Gordon admitted.

"A message from your mother," he said, only slightly mistaken. "Your ship said you were not answering your phone and asked to leave a message."

"Thank you for your service," Gordon said, and flipped him a tiny gold coin, only a twentieth ounce, but it was a day's wages here. The boy snatched it out of the air and gave him an elaborate bow that practically doubled him over.

"Bad news?" the driver asked, suspicious of special messages. He pulled away from the gate, eyebrows scrunched in worry. The shuttle was in sight, sitting on concrete.

"No, very good news actually," he read aloud. "To our son Gordon, on the seventeenth day of the fall season, in the second year of your four hundred seventy-fourth First Mother. By drone, to all our agreed message postings: We have signed a new Treaty of Man, supplemented with penalties for failure to perform lacking in the first version. This is a new thing for our nation to speak with an enemy with who we are at war. Time will tell if it was wisdom or folly, but the price of destroying our enemy might have been our own passing. It is therefore the will of your Mothers to cease war with the United States of North America and instruct you to act with hostility only to protect yourself. If you find agents of the USNA unaware of the end of the war, attempt to inform them. We await the ratification of the Treaty required by their law. Be aware if they reject this Treaty you can be expected to return to hostilities and conduct a war with the goal of the complete destruction of the North American Continent and all their space-based forces. With thanks for your service and confidence in your abilities, we are your grateful Mothers." (graphic chop file attached)

 "Holy cow! They paid to send that big a message on a drone? That had to cost more ounces than I want to imagine. They could have just said – "War over, come home."

"No indeed," Gordon corrected him. "They paid to send a number of special drone flights, to a number of message dumps, knowing one would find us. This undoubtedly was tacked on the daily drone from Bountiful, where one was sent. When you buy the flight, they don't charge you by the word, or for local relays either."

"Well good for you. Fighting is bad for everybody. I'm glad to hear that," the man said.

"Celebrate on us," Gordon suggested and tipped him like the boy. He walked back to the crew trailer and got their attention. Some stopped dealing with their bags and looked up.

"We have a cease-fire and likely end to the war. A new Treaty of Man has been signed and I will scan and post this notice to the ship net when we board."

For such a little crowd they made a lot of noise.

* * *

The squadron returned to Fargone, dropped the two explorers for refitting. a few of the crew who wanted leave there, and the Sharp Claws and Retribution returned to Derfhome. They just beat a drone in-system carrying the news that the USNA Congress affirmed the Treaty. The news reached them before they docked and a drone passed them going out-system carrying the word to Luna. They will broadcast stand-down code to the Ruddy Rustic, with instructions to stand down and leave the Earth system for Derfhome, as stealthily as possible.

"It seems like we should have a parade or something," Lee complained.

"Better to quietly accept it with dignity," Gordon counseled. "People died. It was no cause for celebration."

"I know. I'd be celebrating it ended, not winning," Lee explained. I never wanted anybody to die for me. William, the lady Wendi at the gas station, the guys on the Retribution. I cried when Thor told me you lost people. I should feel bad about the Earth people too, but I find it hard to value them like our own."

"It just happened to be you," Gordon said. "If it hadn't been you there would have been some other trigger. They had contempt for us and something else would have broken in time."

"Well at least the Hinth got sorted out from it," Lee said. "That was another problem waiting to happen. A whole world of it."

"The Hinth are far from sorted out, but they are making a good start. I'd very much like to get a Hinth or three to crew on our ships. You don't know anybody with standing to ask them, do you?" Gordon asked slyly, face forward, looking at Lee out of the corner of his eye.

"Let's go down to that horrible bar on Derfhome station and see if Ha-bob-bob-brie is still sitting feeling sorry for himself. If he's tired of moping maybe he'll be ready to ship out."

"Ship out where?" Gordon asked.

"Have you forgotten?" Lee asked. "I still want to take a really deep voyage of exploration."

"We have to deal with a whole lot first," Gordon reminded her. "You have to ask the Mothers about buying The Champion William. You have to see if they will sell the warships as escorts or lease them for shares. You need crews and supplies. Say about ten thousand peanut butter and jelly sandwiches," he teased, "a zillion rounds of ammunition, an extra pair of socks or two and a few tons of water, whatever the Devil Hinth eat in bulk. It will be a big list and could easily take a year to buy and load up and be ready."

"I know. Let's get started," Lee said impatiently. "I mean, by the time we can go I'll probably be fourteen!"

END

The Last Part - Other Books and Links by Mackey Chandler

April (first in series of ten)

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0077EOE2C

April is an exceptional young lady and something of a snoop. She finds herself involved with intrigues that stretch her abilities after a chance run-in with a spy. There is a terrible danger she and her friends and family will lose the only home she has ever known in orbit and be forced to live on the slum ball below. It's more than a teen should have to deal with. Fortunately, she has a lot of smart friends and allies. It's a good thing because things get very rough and dicey.

Down to Earth(sequel to April)

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007RGBIVK

April seems to make a habit of rescues. Now two lieutenants from the recent war appeal to her for help to reach Home. The secret they hold makes their escape doubtful. North America, the United States of North America, has been cheating on their treaty obligations and a public figure like April taking a very visible vacation there would be a good way to remind them of their obligations. Wouldn't it? Her family and business associates all think it is a great idea. She can serve a public purpose and do her rescue on the sly too. But things get difficult enough just getting back Home alive is going to be a challenge. It's a good thing she has some help. Why does everything have to be so complicated?

The Long Voyage of the Little Fleet (sequel to Family Law

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B006GQSZVS

Gordon found a class A habitable planet. They thought their quest as explorers was over and they'd live a life of ease. But before they could return and register their claim Lee's parents died doing a survey of the surface. That left Lee two-thirds owner of the claim and their partner Gordon obligated by his word with her parents to raise Lee. She had grown up aboard ship with her uncle Gordon and he was the only family she'd ever known. Gordon adopting her was an obvious arrangement - to them. Other people didn't see it so clearly over the picky little fact Gordon wasn't human.

After finding prejudice and hostility on several worlds Lee was of the opinion planets might be nice to visit, but terrible places to live. She wanted back in space exploring. Fortunately, Gordon was agreeable and the income from their discovery made outfitting an expedition possible. Lee wanted to go DEEP - out where it was entirely unknown and the potential prizes huge. After all, if they kept exploring tentatively they might run up against the border of some bold star-faring race who had gobbled up all the best real estate. It wasn't hard to find others of a like mind for a really long voyage. This sequel to "Family Law" is the story of their incredible voyage.

Link to a full list of current releases on Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004RZUOS2

Mac's Writing Blog:

http://www.mackeychandler.com