The Long Voyage of the Little Fleet

Mackey Chandler

Second Book of the Family Law Series

Cover design by Sarah A. Hoyt

Background built using Space Construction Kit © Tony Hayes AKA Bogwoppet www.my-art-gallery.co.uk (2007)

Spaceships from renders by http://www.most-digital-creations.com/ © Adam Thwaites

Chapter 1

It wasn't like Fargoers to be bureaucratic. They prided themselves on independence. It seemed unlikely the United States of North America or any other Earth power could pressure them not to sell military supplies to Derf. The Derf had won the recent war, so it wasn't a matter of whether to re-arm the defeated underdog, stirring up new hostilities.

Neither did the missiles Gordon wanted to buy hold any secrets for him. He'd originally been the one to sell Fargone the copies they reverse engineered to make them. Indeed he still had magazines over half full of the X head ship to ship missiles they'd copied, although it was true the Fargoers had improved on the original missiles. Gordon's forces had been very frugal with the expensive missiles during the war. He simply wanted to replace the ones he'd used and alter the standard load out on the captured USNA ships. He really had no use for ground attack nukes. Gordon hoped never to use one, much less need the half and half load out of ground attack and space weapons the North Americans favored.

Their fleet was going exploring for profit, not looking for trouble. Weapons were expensive and he'd have been happy not to waste money on them. But they were going deep, deep as in potentially years away from Human or Derf society. So deep they had no idea what they would find and more to the point who. There wouldn't be any help out there and they had best be able to take care of themselves. Man had already found two aboriginal races and two marginally technological societies close to home. The Derf and the Hinth had both been far enough along to take up space flight easily in a generation. It seemed likely sooner or later they'd find some advanced space-going species. How friendly or territorial they might be was impossible to guess. But Gordon wanted to be prepared should they be so unfriendly they'd try to blow his dainty little Derf butt off on sight.

In honesty he was irritated. Being over a half ton of irritated carnivore with four inch gut rippers on his middle arms, he could have been radiating intimidation. Instead his personality was such that he got quieter and less visibly agitated the more upset he got. When he got to the stage of statue-like immobility it would be a very good time to try to defuse the situation. He wasn't anywhere near that state, yet. To all appearances he might have been a tourist, relaxed and looking out the window with interest at the cluster of towers and skyscrapers that was the biggest city on Fargone. The planet was still mostly empty and this was the only city on it with tall buildings. The Fargoers seemed determined not to turn it into another Earth, rejecting almost ninety eight percent of the applicants for immigration.

His daughter Lee was even angrier. She was a loose cannon liable to say anything to the Fargone military commander they were preparing to meet. She was precocious, and utterly fearless, an easy thing to be at her age, but it was a cunning calculating fearlessness instead of the usual teen inability to imagine her own death. At fourteen she was scarily capable of imagining six different paths to your sudden death, all the while smiling pleasantly at you, as you were busily occupied making nice-nice and patting the sweet little Earth girl on the head.

Indeed, Gordon had seen her track a young Derf intruder through the woods back on Gordon's clan territory. She had followed him through a falling dusk in dense forest and prepared to defend Gordon from the interloper. Half a metric ton of young six limbed aggressive carnivore, equipped with a 20mm carbine, the pushy young cub had given Gordon a hard time, challenging his clan's territory, until matters had almost come to a head. Lee had changed the balance of that angry confrontation by the simple expedient of loudly clicking the safety off her pistol from slightly behind the fellow in the quiet woods. Derf have excellent hearing. The 'Oh shit' look on the kid's face was a precious memory Gordon held close.

Gordon was Derf too after all. In fact he had fifty years experience and a couple hundred kilograms on the kid. It never seemed to have occurred to Lee he might not need her help. He hadn't. He was holding a handgun hidden from the insolent cub. In fact he'd love to remind her – that although the entire Red Tree/Human war was precipitated by her treatment on Earth, almost all of it was fought without her direct help... thank you very much.

His own clan hadn't accepted his adoption of Lee without some controversy. But they did do the right thing in the end, even if it required a change of First Mother. At least it hadn't required removal by assassination to make new law that respected Lee's adoption, though it was a close thing.

The United States of North America had then very stupidly broken their treaty over disapproving of his adoption of Lee. One cranky old prejudiced judge had taken her into protective custody when they were visiting Earth. The Nation of Red Tree did not take kindly to having their children kidnapped. The three Mothers took Red Tree to war without hesitation, though it had been over a thousand years since they'd made war on anyone. The clan would have declared war on every nation and world of all three races for one of their own. It was a matter of principle.

Gordon looked down at his daughter with a smile. The snarling grin he got back was no less threatening for being on a fifty kilogram or so Human girl of fourteen years, who needed a few more years of growth to push two meters, versus his own seven hundred kilos and four meter length.

"We really don't want to jump right in with an adversarial conversation," Gordon pleaded. "Let's stay calm, ask some questions and find out what the real problem is."

"Does this mean I shouldn't remind him that removal of obstructive officials by assassination is a perfectly normal procedure in Derf politics?"

"It might be well not to mention it first. And if you didn't jam your thumb under your holster flap while saying it, as you did just now, it would add an air of genteel sincerity."

"Why are we seeing someone from the Ministry of War?" Lee demanded. "This is just a commercial transaction and we're not asking credit. I saw the ridiculously huge ingots of silver in the hold. That's the basis of their currency and an absolute necessity for them to import since it is scarce in the Fargone system. So it's not like our kind of money isn't favored here."

Gordon broke into song..."And I don't care if the money's no good. Ya take what ya need and ya leave the rest. But they should never, have taken, the very best..."

"What's that?"

"A song about an old war in North America. Money offered in war time is often worthless."

"How can money be – entirely worthless?" Lee asked, scrunching her nose up.

"When it's paper certificates and they won't, or can't, redeem it in metal," Gordon explained.

"Oh, you'd be a fool to take them then. That's a bad contract and fraud, not bad money."

"Yes, but in the song he told the soldiers to take what they wanted, probably his food, because otherwise they'd likely just shoot him dead and steal it anyway."

"Why didn't you buy smaller bars that would be easier to handle?" Lee wondered. "You could count out smaller bars to pay the exact price of whatever deal we work out. I never imagined they made ingots so big they came with a big eye for the crane to hook into cast right on top."

"That's the cheapest way to buy silver. Those are ten thousand troy ounce ingots. Besides, I didn't want easy to handle. How would you go about stealing one of those?"

Lee tipped her head to acknowledge the truth of that. They'd hardly fit in your pocket. A new suspicion occurred to her. "Do you think they'll try to run up the price because they know we're rich?"

"No, if that was it we'd still be meeting with the munitions manufacturer, or him and a Finance Minister. No, I'm afraid whatever the problem is, it is political in nature," he said, distastefully.

"You think they may regret selling you the three radiation enhanced weapons back in the war?"

"I doubt it, they haven't made any noises about buying back the two we haven't used."

"I'm stumped what they want then," she said, frustrated. "I'm just going to sit back, listen for awhile and try to hear how he sounds, as much as what he says."

"You are getting smarter about dealing with other Humans," he allowed, relieved somewhat. "Where is Clare?" he asked. The girl had been rescued at the same time Lee left Earth, and was the first Human near Lee's age that she had gotten to know well. They had been near inseparable while they tried to get everything ready for their voyage. He hadn't noticed her absence with everything else on his mind. Lee counted Clare a friend, although she seemed dominant over the older girl. Clare might be older but she'd been raised in a North American negative tax family in a rural area of northern Michigan, so she was much less experienced at everything than Lee, especially anything considered important off Earth.

"She's with your recruiting people, trying to find some department she'll fit in. You see what you can pry out of this fellow. You're more intimidating than me."

He wasn't so sure of that. The official meeting them would know Lee was here because she owned two thirds of the deep space explorer High Hopes, which was the lead vessel in their exploration fleet. She also owned the other DSE, The Champion William, their escort the heavy cruiser Retribution and a mixed bag of shuttles and fuel scoopers outright. All hers by inheritance or purchase. She had control of them despite being young, because she had assumed the semi-adulthood provided for in Derf law, which included property rights and the ability to form contracts, even if it wasn't the full mantle of adulthood that of Earth law that was all or nothing.

Lee seemed content to allow Gordon to continue raising her in her intermediate state, with partial rights and responsibilities. She might own the ships and speak to their broad use to explore, but nobody was going to accept her in command on the flight deck with her meager experience. Neither could she sit as a clan Mother yet, but Lee didn't find either lack particularly confining. Gordon owned a third of the High Hopes and was in undisputed command of their little fleet.

The Mothers of Red Tree had decided to send the clan owned destroyer Sharp Claws along in exchange for shares in potential discoveries. It would carry six clan citizens who would be getting their first space experience, bringing their own shares home, as well as earning an equal share for each of the six paid to the clan, for the service of the ship.

The High Hopes was the only ship not a war capture. It was the original North American flagged ship, in which Gordon and Lee had gone exploring with Lee's parents. That search had ended in both triumph and tragedy. They'd discovered a class A world, which left them beyond simply rich, but her parents had died while surveying the new world, Providence.

The finder's fees and shares on a class A world where men could stand bare-faced meant they never had to worry about money for even extravagant living, but Lee being born to ship life, had tired of planets and planet bound people quickly. Rather than retire at ease on a planet she wished to continue the life of an explorer and felt there was even more need for bold exploration now. In her opinion the slowing spherical expansion of human space risked running up against another star faring race, more aggressively exploring deep, leaving Humans and their associated species with a foreshortened frontier and the loss of a lot of prime real estate. She wanted to put her new wealth to work pushing back the frontier. Her recruits shared that vision and hoped to all come back filthy rich on their ship shares.

If their fleet did run into somebody out there, it seemed likely anyone they encountered would be more polite to a small fleet than a single ship. One ship you might arrest or destroy, four of them presented a much reduced chance of doing that successfully.

Besides wanting his magazines full of the higher performance ship to ship weapons, Gordon wanted the DSEs fitted with an entire extra reactor and a Greaser – a gamma ray laser weapon that had much higher performance than mundane petawatt optical lasers. Greasers were so far unknown in civilian ships. Fortunately Fargone was not at all picky about weapons sales, and the DSEs had a lot of open holds and storage for extra equipment, being designed for long voyages with small crews.

Both DSEs already had an externally mounted fuel mining systems and an extremely high velocity 'peashooters' a weapon that very accurately threw a rice grain sized projectile at a substantial fraction of the speed of light. The name was far easier in everyday usage than saying – "Give me a status report on the Asymmetric Pseudo Polarity Hypervelocity Traveling Wave Accelerator." There simply wasn't an acronym that fell off the tongue easily. Just one pellet from the device had converted an Earth orbital fort into expanding cloud of plasma during the war.

The autocab Lee and Gordon were riding in left the fast lanes and drifted down an exit ramp into the heart of the Fargone government campus. A cluster of tall building rose around them like you'd expect in smaller Earth cities with just a couple million people. Landing was the biggest city on Fargone. Fargone had a policy which limited the growth of cities as much as possible. Nobody stopped them to check identities or inspect the vehicle. It was one of the ministry's own automated limos and it would have never been allowed down the ramp if the passengers didn't have business here.

The open cart the father and daughter transferred to just inside the building entry however had a driver. He gave them a gracious bow and indicated it was his pleasure to take them to Admiral Hawking, the head of Fargone Space Forces. The driver's name tag indicated he was Propensity Jones, the Fargoers being given to a different custom in names than Earth Humans.

At least they'd be dealing with a spacer who understood what they were doing. Nobody suggested Lee hand over her pistol. As for Gordon, he was much harder to disarm. Even without the ritual ax or modern pistol on his belt, a Derf could make his way through the interior of most human buildings by creating expedient doorways bare handed.

The cart delivered Lee and Gordon right to the Admiral's door and they were not trifled with by any silly Earth games such as making them wait to show status. The Admiral stood to greet them, letting them see he wore canvas cargo shorts under what Gordon would have called a golf shirt. Fargoers were not much given to showy symbols of authority. He only wore a medallion of rank around his neck on a stout chain and would have expected quick obedience and respect if he were otherwise buck naked.

"Miss Anderson, Mr. Gordon," he bowed as deeply as their driver had. He addressed and looked at Lee first, so he knew what the deal was here. That was one less thing where they could bullshit him. His name plate on his desk said Admiral Serendipity Duvochek Hawking. Serendipity was a very favored given name for both sexes on Fargone.

Laying on his desk was a hammer, the square head of which was about three kilo of unpolished steel. The thick handle was carved of a dark native wood to be grippy and there was a braided rawhide lanyard a half meter long hanging from the handle. It was Fargone's second highest military award. Gordon had told Lee a few things he'd researched about the Admiral when they were asked to this meeting, and explained they would never meet a recipient of the highest award, because it was only given posthumously.

"It is my custom to have a break for coffee and snacks about this hour of the morning," Serendipity explained. "Would you join me in a cup to help me regulate my blood sugar and retain my good humor this morning?"

Gordon allowed he'd take a cup with a little honey or brandy. Lee suggested a mug with a shot of bourbon would be welcome. If serving alcohol to a fourteen year old at ten in the morning bothered him at all, the admiral never let a twitch or hesitation cross his face. Maybe that was normal here for all she knew. On Earth most people would have been horrified as Earth was increasingly Puritanical. The age to buy alcohol in North America had been twenty-four for some time now.

"I can see written on your faces that you are unhappy that Fargone put a roadblock in your supply plans. We are not inflexible about it, or we wouldn't be meeting here to discuss it."

"Not a roadblock," Gordon assured him with a dismissive little gesture. "A speed bump at most. We have plenty of copies of the ship to ship weapons. We can simply go to New Japan to have them copied. If anything New Japan is ahead of Fargone on rapid prototyping and fabrication. We had major battle damage during the war, a hole burned straight through our ship, repaired there in only four days. Fargone may have the edge at present in actually improving on a design, but we are willing to forego that slight advantage to get what we need. Also, in the future we won't be sharing such captured designs with Fargone if you don't show reciprocity, so I expect the edge on improvements will shift over to New Japan if they are the more open, more accommodating society. I find that an ironic shift, given their long held reputation for xenophobia."

"But a supply switch would be an unnecessary delay. You'd have to keep your crews on hold drawing salary for another six weeks or so plus transit time to deal with New Japan."

"Better that, than to let our supposed allies start managing us," Lee assured him grimly. "As to expense, we have the entire fifteen percent take on the leases and development rights and outright sales of the best class A planet to hit the economy in over a decade, personal income equal to something over five percent of your Gross World Product right now and accelerating. In addition we have unusually large private land holdings for a prize crew and could sell mineral leases or tracts of land to raise considerable capital. So we can carry our crews indefinitely without it being any particular burden."

"You know Fargone has always followed a course of slow and cautious development," the Admiral reminded them, steepling his hands below his chin. "We don't mean to get into a pissing contest with outside powers, especially fast growing ones, but we have only seen public releases about what your intention is in mounting this expedition. We have legitimate concerns about how you will be representing three species and many cultures, including Fargone, to anyone you meet."

"We hadn't intended to storm through the Beyond like Cortez through the Americas," Gordon assured him. "We are in it for the loot, but only what is laying about unclaimed. If we run into any intelligences you may assume we'll treat them with respect. Pillage and burn, or bombard and subjugate, wasn't on our play card. It is Lee's opinion that our spherical expansion geometry by its nature gets far too slow as its surface area increases. If there is another more aggressive star-faring culture out there, they may meet us far closer than half way, rightfully claim all the territory they bypassed in detail, and hold it reserved for their own exploitation."

"But how shall you present yourselves if you must negotiate with a new civilization, particularly a technological one?"

"As what we are, a family business," Lee asserted. "If we meet someone who desires political entities with which to seek treaties and relationships, then they will have to seek them out or request they send an emissary. We can offer trade, but we are not in the treaty business."

"These theoretical aliens may not believe an armed fleet represents a family enterprise."

"I think you are the one having trouble believing we are a commercial venture. There is always the possibility these aliens may not have much more use for governments than I do," Lee said. "We shall be there and they may not see any pressing need to deal with you at such a great distance."

"If you mean you will only supply us if we put an official government commander in charge of our expedition, so it is not a private enterprise, then let me make it clear. Over my dead body," Gordon said. "Go outfit and recruit and send your own expedition if that's what you want. I won't do it for you."

"No, no. I can see where you'd think that was the direction I was headed. Actually what we had in mind was far more moderate. We'd like to send a ship along with you."

 Gordon and Lee looked at each other. This wasn't anything they'd anticipated at all.

"Not in a command oversight position?" Gordon asked.

"As an observer, subject to your overall command and use, except as any commander is responsible for his vessel both as to its survival and to refuse any orders he finds illegal or morally reprehensible. But if someone you meet does want to treat with a government they'll have a spox aboard available with limited power to speak for us or carry messages home."

"Can your active duty military legally draw crew shares on discoveries?" Lee asked.

"That is something I have the power to regulate in ten minutes with my signature. Do you want them to have shares, or depend completely on Fargone to supply and compensate them?"

"I think it unreasonable to ask them, even if they are genuine volunteers, to serve elbow by elbow with others who may end up billionaires, or trillionaires, risking their lives and being gone from civilization for years possibly, without equal compensation. If we find even one class A world, it hardly matters if the bonus is split two-hundred fifty ways or three-hundred."

"I agree," Gordon jumped in. "If there is not resentment going in, it may grow as they think upon the matter and feel the burden of the voyage. I don't want partners with conflicted feelings, who may decide they are being used badly."

"So this is something you'd consider?" Serendipity asked.

"What kind of ship?" Lee asked, suspiciously.

"What would you have us send?" Serendipity asked her.

"The biggest baddest heavy cruiser you have in service, giving the commander authority to pick his volunteers from your whole navy and set anybody he doesn't want on the beach, without explanation. A fast courier grappled externally would be welcome too. I rode one of those and was impressed, but we will need to modify it. I'll buy one from you if altering it bothers you," she offered.

Gordon was surprised. The man didn't twitch at her casual offer to buy a fast courier. "And send one civilian official of your government as a contingency and so it isn't strictly military oriented," Gordon agreed. "That should satisfy the statists... that is... the civic minded, I mean."

"This is all we wanted and more," Serendipity assured them. "Given such easy agreement, I'll see to it you immediately have access to anything you wish to buy."

"Next time, you'd get less suspicion and easier cooperation, if you go straight to asking that we talk, before laying out what we saw as threats and obstruction," Lee told him.

"All this originated far above me, but I'll pass that thought on to the architects of our government," Serendipity promised.

Chapter 2

The Hinth proved a real challenge to recruit. Until recently there were only a few hundred having off-world experience who were not political sorts. The Human administrator over Hin had actually reduced the number allowed off world steadily instead of increasing them. Indeed, few Humans or Derf had ever seen a live Hinth. The few Hinth off their home world who had received early exit permits as working spacers were afraid until recently to even visit Hin. They might never be allowed to leave again. So Hinth with off-world positions were reluctant to leave those secure postings for a voyage of exploration. That might change now that the Hinth had declared the Human treaty void and repudiated it, but any sizable number of Hinth leaving the planet would take months at a minimum to happen and the fleet was leaving in a few days.

The Hinth didn't do well alone. Ha-bob-bob-brie, who Lee had met on Derfhome station, isolated himself away from his kind after a catastrophe wiped out his shipmates and family in an exploration gone bad. He'd offered his name and bared his face to Lee, in camaraderie, after hearing of her own loss of family. However other Hinth regarded him as insane to be able to live years without other Hinth companionship. In fact, the first Hinth Gordon and Lee had interviewed had visibly shivered and almost lost the ability to speak of it, trying to describe how abnormal his isolation was to proper sane Hinth. They'd had no idea when they met him that he was so unusual.

The explorers had to amend their recruiting ads to allow signing Hinth as a group. They simply were not going to get any responses for individuals. Not unless, as Lee joked, they could advertize for crew in Hinth psychiatric hospitals. Thor didn't find that funny.

 Ha-bob-bob-brie they did hire, sane or not, as crew on the High Hopes. Their recruiters hadn't insisted on sanity for the other races after all. He seemed perfectly functional to them. He was a planetary landing specialist and as a bonus brought his own pressure suit and surface gear he already owned and had in storage. No few of the planet bound thought they were all crazy to go off so far into the unknown. The best they could do on short notice for other Hinth to take along was one family group of three, who would all remain together on the Retribution. The Hinth threesome they recruited seemed relieved they would not be with Ha-bob-bob-brie. The idea the Hinth group would be close associates to the other crewmen and not wear the mask as they would have at home on Hin took a bit to work through. It said a lot about how hard set the custom was, that they still continued to wear the mask, but hanging lowered to their breast, like a Fargoer's medallion of rank. All the marks and writing on their masks were important to them, as it spoke to what and who they were and they had no other way to show it to. It didn't seem to matter to them that not one Human or Derf in a thousand had any idea what the symbols on the mask meant.

If the fleet found aliens they wanted be able to transmit video of three races working together in a peaceful association. Their ability to get along should suggest they would also be able to get along with other strangers too. Or that was Gordon's theory. The aliens of course might instead find such a thing an abhorrent mixing, but if that was the case then establishing good relations was probably a lost cause anyway.

The military ships were all short crewed on purpose. In case of loss to mechanical failure or hostile action they wished to be able to double up a crew and leave a vessel behind. If such a tragedy happened, they would also destroy the abandoned ship to prevent its capture and examination. The Fargoers had a very hard time being persuaded to reduce their crew to the required level. They agreed in principle, just not in particular. Every position seemed to find a reason to be exempt from being cut. The deep space explorers of necessity were over staffed from their usual level. The High Hopes for example, had been run before by three crew members. That wouldn't work now as an armed command vessel.

The ships being short crewed worked better on a long voyage for another reason. The volume of food and other perishables they laid in to supply the crews was much larger than for a conventional voyage. The average commercial freighter might be away a month and carry round trip supplies for a family crew from their home port where it was usually cheaper. An armed military ship might stretch that to two months with a steadily degrading menu, and perhaps a third month using emergency ration bars if it was a survival situation. They planned to carry more water too, for a safety margin, although they would have to mine and distil some eventually. To plan for two years for three different species with limited overlap in what they could share was difficult.

They used spaces never intended for perishables and even grappled some food storage containers externally. But there were already both combat and conventional shuttles grappled externally. New weapons systems and the added fuel mining drones also cluttered the hull. They also needed extra room internally for perishable items like filters and spares for just about any machinery having moving parts. There wasn't room for a full military crew with redundancy in critical jobs and all the supplies for two years. They were even going to try some very compact accelerated hydroponics for fresh salad things, which no ship in living memory had used, but they were trying it again in both DSEs and the Retribution to help morale. The Sharp Claws had no room for gardens, even short crewed, and Murphy's Law was still run as a Fargone military ship. They didn't intend to experiment or change their operations more than what was absolutely necessary.

All but a half dozen of the ground attack missiles were removed, and their slots filled with ship to ship X-head missiles. The X-heads were so expensive they took a sizeable chunk of Lee's cash to buy, even trading in the ship to ground missiles for their nuclear kernels. But the newly minted Fargone models had both better guidance packages and warheads that could be altered in the last seconds before detonation to emit their x-ray beams in a tight shotgun pattern, or set at specific angles to track up to six targets. Each now had a primary and five secondary beams. USNA warheads had a set geometry and needed to be oriented exactly to put their single very powerful beam on target. The back portion of the main beam destroyed the carrier missile even before the fireball expanded.

Unless the USNA had made some recent advances they had carefully kept secret, these new missiles would give a slight advantage between two ships of the same size and throw weight to the Fargone equipped ship. Any edge could mean life or death.

Gordon also had a secret weapon he'd ordered developed after his unpleasant fight with a USNA fleet on the edge of the Fargone system. He'd aborted his run out system knowing a fleet was waiting to ambush him. He'd then fired blind at their potential emergent point before diverting his course to another system on a jump that was far too risky.

He'd had a Fargoer weapons developer, working in New Japan, make him a jump drone carrying an X-head. The same man who designed their peashooter. Gordon could now fire blind down a jump track he was certain had an ambush waiting on the far side, or fire it after a fleeing vessel he had no chance of catching in a straight chase before it jumped out. It was an ugly weapon, with the potential risk of killing an innocent ship sight unseen if you guessed wrong. A political entity would never risk making them given the potential for error and the resulting public condemnation. But war is messy and survival sometimes costly. He only had two made and put them on the Retribution. He didn't publicize the drone's existence, being somewhat ambivalent about them himself.

The considerable computing power to allow the drone to act autonomously as an AI, and pick a target or search and continue a pursuit after making a jump, cost much more than the nuclear explosive part of the warhead. To the point it seemed an extravagant waste to treat that much computer as a perishable asset, but unleashing a stupid weapon on the far side of a jump line was even less defensible morally. The hardest but most important instructions to write were those that made the expensive weapon abort a pursuit and self destruct if there was any uncertainty about its target.

With a planned absence of several years the crew could not be left to choose their own kit. Cotton underwear and socks, popular and low cost, wore out too fast. Crew were required to buy extra longer lasting hemp, bamboo or synthetics. Shoes had to be durable, and one or two back-up pairs necessary depending on the person's duty stations. The shoes a fabricator made always seemed to draw complaints about comfort, even though they fit perfectly. Personal drugs and other consumables also had to be stockpiled for the crewmen.

A generous personal mass allowance for recreational items, including video, music and even recreational intoxicants was an acknowledgement of how long they'd be gone. Fargoers all seemed to bring at least a half case of their excellent rum. The Purser assured Gordon from personal experience that the cure is worse than the disease when trying to control booze and drugs in a ship. Denied any outlet crew would raid food supplies to make alcohol, grow various weeds, mushrooms and even assemble entire synthesis labs from spare parts and shop supplies.

Some of the crew brought small trade items in their mass allowance, hoping they'd meet an alien race who would appreciate them. The expedition itself carried little, thinking it a very hard matter to predict. They could dip into stores to a certain extent if they needed trade goods.

Almost all the human supplies loaded at Fargone. Derf specific items came from Red Tree. Much of the Derf food came directly out of Red Tree clan stores, with the bonus that some was safe for Humans. The ships rotated to Derfhome to load stores and back to Fargone as their refit and weapons loads became available. There was such a shortage of Hinth related items outside their system that a fast courier had to be dispatched to acquire more food, medical supplies and personal weapons for the bird-like aliens. A different courier, because theirs was being fitted with a fuel scoop.

The usual ship's web package for entertainment and instruction was five to ten percent of the English web. The fleet needed a much larger resource if they dealt with aliens. In the end each ship loaded near half of the English web with special attention for Derf and Hinth elements. They also had obscure texts and references for language and translation, including dead languages, and texts such as Linear, Mayan, cuneiform, runes and Egyptian hieroglyphics. Studies on stellar formation and planetology were made up to date and added. The history of mankind was fleshed out in some detail, no matter how unpleasant the truth was.

Given the difficulty of picking and packing bulky trade goods a limited amount of coinage in standard weights was brought along in copper, silver, gold, platinum and palladium. They welded the safe for the money right into the center of the flight deck. It wasn't that much volume, but it was a significant mass item. The ship machine shops had extra cutting bits and the 3D machines extra stocks of exotics like tungsten and beryllium since they'd be far from any world offering services.

One point on which Gordon drew the line, was the inclusion of a ship's cat in addition to the regular testing animals. Gordon had personal experience that cats got into trouble on ship, sometimes in inaccessible areas. He did allow a full cubic meter stuffed with seeds of every plant that might be an item for trade since it massed so little and packed so compactly.

Gordon went over the manifests personally. He was horrified to find there was no shared supply of brandy laid in, neither was there sufficient small arms ammunition in his estimation. There was the usual moon-hut and tent in the deep space explorers, but no common tenting or camp cots and such, if they wanted to bring the crew of the other two war ships down to a planetary surface. All that was corrected.

Thor, his second in command and weapons officer, insisted the cruisers bring a couple hard suits with support gear and parts, such as shipyard workers wore for long shifts doing exterior repair. If they had some major damage to deal with along the way soft suits were neither as safe or comfortable as hard shell suits for heavy labor in high vacuum. They had better maneuvering jets and offered better radiation protection too. In the end the master manifest was so large it seemed a miracle it could all fit inside six hulls.

Both the Sharp Claws and the Retribution were armed with the newer interceptor missiles in the ready tubes. Their older stock of missiles held for reloads. The deep space explorers were doing a minor refit so that the three short range defensive missiles they usually carried would be replaced with the full military versions. The actual tube needed to be longer so it was extended beyond the hull since lengthening it internally would have been far too complicated. Neither ship carried the sophisticated fire control software of a military ship but much of the critical controls resided in the missile itself.

Having long range weapons aboard meant neither of the DSEs would ever be allowed inside the Earth/Moon system again without unloading the weapons under supervision well away from Earth and the Moon. There was no need now for those ships to carry word of their finds to the Claims Commission.

It also meant they could fire a bigger single salvo of missiles than the destroyer Sharp Claws. But once they were shot the DSEs had no spares to reload the tubes, so they would be held back for defense after the warships expended theirs.

Admiral Hawking called soon after the warships were rearmed. "Gordon, do you suppose you could be a good fellow and rotate your escort ships back to Derfhome now that they are stocked and armed?"

"We could. No reason the whole expedition can't depart from there, but why? It's not like you are short of parking space."

"This is stupid and embarrassing, but I have to deal with it. There are Captains in our navy all bent that you have such a formidable force parked around Fargone. Some of the idiots are complaining we should have a defensive watch on your movements and park you much further from the planetary surface. It would just be much easier to have you rotate out, than deal with their paranoia."

"Are they aware there are only a couple crewmen on board for a security watch and the duty crews are all enjoying the last of their leave on your world?" Gordon asked.

"Yes, I pointed that out and also the fact you'd just unloaded almost all your ground strike missiles. They countered how slickly you suckered the North Americans during the war and captured the USNA ships at dock without a shot. You seem to have gathered a bigger than life reputation as an exceedingly sneaky bastard. A pretty tough thing to do given your personal scale," Hawking quipped.

"Well then, I guess the crews can finish up their last liberty as well at Derfhome as Fargone. What's one more shuffle back and forth? The local merchants aren't going to thank you I predict; they are doing a brisk business from our crews spending their signing bonuses, but I'll broadcast a recall and make ready to move both escorts," he agreed. "We shall all wait at Derfhome for the deep space explorers to join us and depart from there."

* * *

"Were there any serious objections from the crews to being shuffled off to Derfhome?" Gordon asked Thor later, after enough time had passed for the orders to propagate down through the lines of command.

"It's the oddest thing. I thought they'd resent it. But the common crewmen are taking perverse pride in the fact they are regarded as too dangerous to have around. Sneering at the Fargone crews, saying their brass are afraid of our little fleet. Even the Fargoers in the cruiser Murphy's Law seem to have picked up this superior attitude and staunchly integrated with the 'Little Fleet' as they are calling themselves. They've all taken up wearing a black brassard or neck cloth, since we don't share any uniform, even the Hinth! And strutting like they are special forces. I asked, but damned if any of them will tell me whose idea it was. At least they didn't take up something even more provocative, like the Jolly Roger."

"If you take the Fargoer's complaint literally, then it's true," Gordon pointed out. Thor just rolled his eyes. He didn't say anything when Gordon wore a black silk as an ascot next shift. A day later Thor too had a black wrist band, rather than appear to reject his own crew's custom. The Fargone General staff couldn't have found anything more damaging to their own forces' morale.

The move back to Derfhome allowed Gordon and Lee to make one last visit to the Red Tree Keep. There wasn't time to travel by surface like their last visit. They arrived by air car and if anyone thought it too fancy they'd just have to swallow it.

Lee was shocked when they arrived to see all the trees near the Keep dead, bare limbed in mid-summer, killed during the war when the USNA landed four combat shuttles full of Space Marines in front of the empty Keep. The Great Champion of Red Tree, William, had stayed to challenge them. When the Marines refused to surrender William had triggered the enhanced radiation weapon killing them all, himself included, and the trees across a couple kilometer circle. Lee knew the soldiers were dead, but hadn't realized trees were that delicate.

At least most of the grasses and weeds survived, but there was still a charred circle in front of the Keep where one pilot had tripped the self destruct charges on his shuttle after the Fargone supplied neutron bomb had doomed them. The wreckage had been cleared, but the locals took up bringing stones to the scorch mark and making a cairn. It was growing to be a memorial to both William and the battle. Lee approved and found a stone she could lift and lugged it to the pile. That gesture didn't go unnoticed by the Derf. The Mothers said nothing either way about the growing stone pillar, content to let the people follow their feelings on the matter.

The other three intact combat shuttles had been temporarily moved, lined up neatly as far away from the Keep as the area of flat ground allowed. Gordon asked the Mothers permission and was allowed to recover the three combat shuttles. They seemed pleased to be rid of them, asking nothing of Gordon for them. Two went to the Retribution and one for the Sharp Claws to be externally grappled and taken along on their expedition. They only had room inside for Human crews, but that was fine, a majority of their personnel were Human.

A Derf crew was systematically felling the dead trees, saving the main trunks for lumber and planting replacements that would take years to mature. There were several square kilometers of dead trees, so it looked as if they would be busy clear through the winter and into the spring.

As the fleet's departure date approached there was a steady stream of news people and academics asking to go along. The news people seemed to be of an opinion that none of the fleet personnel could operate a common video camera competently. The academics all seemed to be of obscure disciplines, unrelated to any need they had as an expedition. They'd have welcomed a really good linguist or an historian dealing with the modern space era, but none volunteered. Nobody from the news organizations or academia was willing to work a necessary menial job when their expertise wasn't needed.

On literally the last day, their number two cook and missile magazine technician for the Retribution announced he had sudden remorse for his enlistment and didn't want to be isolated from society for several years. The number one cook privately informed Gordon that the real reason was the fellow had acquired a new and very serious girlfriend the last week he'd spent on Derfhome. The man had also blown most of his enlistment bonus on said Honey, so they pretty much had to write that off too. There was no point in being vindictive about it, and Gordon certainly didn't want anyone with them for who knows how long who didn't want to be there. The cook would find out nobody on Derfhome would give him credit, or take his contract, with the squandered debt hanging over his head. The consensus aboard the Retribution was that the sudden relationship would come to an abrupt end when the rest of his money ran out.

This last minute emergency would have required a rush recruitment, but the Mothers decided on the last day that there should be one of their number in the expedition. Someone to watch their interests and provide a voice of Derf law to counter balance the Fargone spox being taken along. The duty of course fell to the third and youngest Mother. She called herself Madonna for Humans and was young, fit, strong, and too inexperienced to be afraid. Best of all she'd come up through the kitchen. Madonna didn't think herself too special to cook and they could easily teach her to sort and load missiles under way. The Mothers hoped she'd serve on their own Sharp Claws, but Gordon dashed those hopes citing necessity, his fleet authority prevailing, and sent her to the cruiser Retribution.

The Retribution kept quite a few of the crew who had served on her during the recent war, there not being room for many to follow Gordon and Thor to the High Hopes. Fred Pierson and Bob Colburn were all of the old crew who moved over. The other explorer The Champion William was crewed mostly by recruits from Fargone and a few war vets. All solid people, but not well known yet by Gordon.

When the two refitted explorers joined them in Derfhome orbit, they had everything needed stowed aboard. The entire fleet was all assembled now in the same orbit well above Derfhome station. Notice was given to all crew and last minute suppliers that departure would be the next day, several shuttle lifts being needed to lift everyone to the new fleet. That night there was much serious last chance partying and tearful sayings of goodbye. Particularly there was heartfelt weeping by a number of bar owners and restaurantuers seeing the end of the signing bonus money.

Clare came to Lee before supper and dragged her away for a private talk. Lee knew something was wrong. It was written all over her face and in her tense stance.

"I've tried to find some department or supervisor in the fleet that really needs me. People were passing me around trying to find something for me to do just to please you. I'm ashamed to say my Earth education is really lacking. The more people interviewed me the more I realized I don't know how to do anything. They took me in the galley and I had no idea what the cook was talking about when he asked me do a couple things. The maintenance guy gave me a screwdriver and asked me to remove a filter and bag it. I had no idea what lock tags were or which way to turn them. They would have to train me to do the simplest things and none of them felt I was safe to turn loose in a ship unescorted. There isn't a department that has people with free time to train someone.

"I thought I'd found a home when one department head said I was the perfect supernumerary, but then I found out what it meant. But he was right. Not only that but the more I think on it, if I go, I will still be as useless when we return. I'll spend the whole voyage changing filters or being a prep cook and not getting better schooling. I've figured out it's going to take more than a little private study in my off hours to catch up."

"I honestly didn't realize there was a problem. Nobody came to me and said anything. They wouldn't would they?" Lee suddenly realized. "I haven't looked at your résumé myself. What can we do?" Lee asked. There wasn't any time left to fix this.

"There will be other voyages," Clare said, pleading in her voice. "I propose I stay behind on Derfhome for now. There are several small schools for humans in the capitol. I'd like to stay here and study if you will let me, maybe spend some time at Red Tree if I'd be welcome. By the time you get back I'll have more practical schooling and I hope, speak Derf fairly well. I'll be worthy of partnering with you then, when I can do something of value instead of simply being the owner's pet." She looked really miserable.

"Let you? I'd never insist anybody come along with the fleet. Lots of people think we're all crazy to want to go off where there's no civilization and help if we get in trouble. That's what you really want? Are you going to be OK here with the only people you know going away, maybe for a couple years?"

"It'll take me that long to catch up to you enough to matter. You have no idea all the things you learned, the way you were living, Earth kids aren't taught anything practical, especially negative tax people. I can see now I was taught mostly not to make trouble and not to expect too much. Do you know I had simple algebra one year and that's it for math? It wasn't even required. My mom suggested I take it."

"No," Lee said, actually embarrassed for her. Why had she told stories and wasted time on the courier and not found any of this out? She was upset with herself too for assuming things. Instead she'd been telling stories and giving Clare pistol lessons. Not that that wasn't important to know too.

"Alright, that's easy enough to do. Do you want to try to live by yourself in an apartment? You've never done that have you? Or should I find a couple to show you how to cook and shop and at least temporarily be housekeepers for you?" Lee asked scrunching up her nose and thinking really hard. This was outside Lee's experience.

"I'd be much more comfortable if you could find a single woman, well educated herself, who could live with me and both tutor me on some things and ease me into local customs and living alone eventually."

"OK, I'll have our bank arrange it," Lee decided. "There's no time for me to do it before the fleet leaves, so they can do it for us."

"Your bank?" Clare asked, looking at her strangely.

"Banks do all sorts of things here. They're like a really good concierge service. And I'll instruct them to find a good roomie, pay her and give you an allowance. You can ask for extra funds too, if you want to experiment with business, or go to Fargone for classes you can't find here. I'll tell them to advise you but instruct them to try to be open handed. I'll ask the Mothers to extend hospitality to you at Red Tree. But I strongly suggest from my own experience that you not ask for adult status. It requires too much responsibility for you right now. If they treat you as a cub it will not be unkind, although you might find it restrictive at first. It will teach you much about how a Derf comes to adulthood however. If you find it too burdensome you can always thank the Mothers and return to the city."

"Thank you," Clare said, getting up and hugging her, tearing up. "That's a burden of worry lifted from me."

"Study what you want, but if you ask what subjects spacers should know and what sort of things would make you useful to me, then perhaps we can work together again after this voyage. If not, if you find out spacer type subjects aren't your thing, it wasn't a condition of helping you leave Earth to work together. We'll always be friends."

"Friends for sure. You gave me a life when I didn't have much to look forward to but living off the negative tax."

"At least you weren't in the city," Lee told her, "from what I saw, even on the negative tax, living out in the country beats being in a big city."

* * *

Late the next day everyone was reported aboard their assigned ships. Gordon demanded from each ship that they do a full head recount after they reported nobody was missing. He didn't want to accuse anyone of falsifying a report, but was secretly skeptical that they hadn't lost any crewman too drunk or distracted or even jailed to make the shuttle. Gordon wasn't going to go search for anyone or delay leaving orbit unless it was a very important specialty for which someone was unaccounted. For a miracle even after a recount nobody was absent and unaccounted for. Gordon was disposed to believe them after a second count.

The captain of the Retribution, Aristotle, may have sensed his apprehensions. "We have all hands aboard," he confirmed. "Not all are ready for immediate duty. My XO, Napoleon, told me that the last shuttle was on close count to lift when a Derf trooper came staggering in with the last Hinth carried in his arms, too drunk to walk, and a Human in swimming trunks and black brassard riding his shoulders wearing the Hinth's mask, sound asleep. I seriously doubt any of that bunch will be worth a damn to do any duty this shift, but they are aboard. I'd give them all filter duties but I'd have to give it to all the Hinth to keep them together, the Derf wouldn't fit most places to access the filters, and the Human has vital duties I shouldn't take him from. But by your leave I decided it was too much trouble to get all worked up about it, they won't have opportunity to repeat the behavior underway, and I would prefer not to take official notice."

"I'm encouraged you have enough command wisdom to know when a little selective blindness is appropriate. Good job and carry on," Gordon told him. He could hear Lee behind him trying to stifle laughter with both hands. He applied a little selective deafness himself and ignored her.

* * *

The command ship, the High Hopes, had the bridges of all five ships tied in a tight little com net, nobody having a full tenth of a second lag to his signals.

"High Hopes will depart orbit first," Gordon announced, "with The Champion William to follow, then Murphy's Law and the Retribution. Sharp Claws will bring up the rear. That will be our normal order until I find some reason to alter it. In deep space, beyond the frontier, I may send in the Sharp Claws first, as the fastest most nimble armed ship, before entering as a group. Unless I am really paranoid about a system, in which case I may even send in the fast courier Roadrunner, which would normally be carried grappled and unmanned on the Murphy's Law. It is unarmed, but nothing here can touch it for speed." The Roadrunner was unmanned, held in reserve, and grappled on the Retribution because it was far too small to force somebody to endure a long voyage in it by choice.

"We shall transition in sequence this first jump to a known system, Survey System 2723. It has no particular navigational hazards. Each ship will transit at thirty second intervals, spaced a hundred kilometers laterally. After comparing notes and transit clock settings we'll jump to our last surveyed point, Survey System 2754. It has a gas giant and a few minor navigational hazards to anyone going deep in system. However, we shall transit the fringes of 2754 and exit to our first uncharted system."

"That exit will be our first exercise in coordinated jumps. We'll do so with the same physical spread for safety during training, but making every effort to exit and arrive within the microsecond of each other. Any time you need a quick answer on jump coordination you may bypass me and inquire of my navigator Brownie directly. Eventually I expect us to have the capability to jump together within a kilometer of each other, even if for some reason one or more of us has a speed differential. Emerging together as one radiant point in a new system masks our numbers and size. The military does this all the time, there is no reason we can't do so with the same nine nines probability of arrival a standard jump demands. I am having Brownie ping your clocks and starting our run. See you on the other side."

"Ready," was all Captain Priceless Fenton of The Campion William had to say.

"The military does it two ships at a time and counts it a damn hot piece of piloting!" The navigator Parsimony Cho on the Murphy's Law noted to his Captain Precocious Henry. "Does Gordon really intend to have all five of us jump in a bloody fur ball together to show off to any natives we meet?"

"I doubt it Mr. Cho," Captain Henry said, amused. "If I read our commander right, I expect after we have the trick of five ship jumps down, he'll cut the Roadrunner loose and make us jump with it overtaking us a few hundred kilometers per second off our group speed so that it sprints ahead on transition."

"I suppose that's why God and the Admiralty gave us three clocks," Cho said weakly.

"Indeed, look sharply here! Our turn coming up and we don't want to muff the easy one, do we?"

"No Sir! I'll do us proud or dead," the navigator promised.

* * *

Survey System 2723 hadn't seen a ship emerge in twelve years. There was nothing of interest there, no rocky planets worth mining, no need to get fuel from its minor gas giant, no sensors left to watch the system, since it was a gateway to nothing interesting. Six bursts of mixed radiation marred its tranquility at regular intervals as the Little Fleet emerged. The ships formed up in a line, turned slightly and accelerated for an unremarkable portion of the sky and disappeared again in turn.

* * *

The fleet appeared in Survey System 2754 in successive microbursts of particles along a line. If anyone had been here since the original survey it wasn't noted on the latest chart file. A clock on one ship disagreed with the count on emergence. Not a full microsecond by any means, but enough to wonder why. They took the opportunity to replace it rather than worry about why. They each had a complete replacement set of clocks if need for them should arise. Clocks were life and death, especially when ships jumped in close proximity. The tidal forces when a ship left local space could damage a nearby vessel if it didn't also leave before the expanding disturbance reached it at light speed.

"It shall be our habit," Gordon told them, "upon emerging in a new uncharted system, to coast dead quiet and inertial, simply listening for at least a quarter hour, making every effort to catalog planets and radio sources. This is another reason to make a close entry. We can communicate by com laser instead broadcast with little chance of being overheard. If we should encounter immediate hostile action, each captain is of course free to maneuver and engage in any manner necessary to their vessel's survival."

"If we should emerge in a system with an obvious civilization, especially radiating from different points in the system, not just one planetary body, then we'll listen, record and formulate a response. Again, likely I'd send Sharp Claws forward in system and try to establish communications. We might disperse somewhat physically, High Hopes and Retribution pairing off and taking some distance from The Champion William and Murphy's Law. Or I might have you shadow each other from view. We'll adjust our routine as we get experience and discuss what we encounter."

"I'm glad we don't have a rigid Admiralty play book," Cho said, mic muted, to his captain.

"Would you entertain a suggestion?" Bodacious Williams, XO of Murphy's Law asked.

"Any time and welcome," Gordon offered. "I do not intent to keep military style silence on the bridge. If you have suggestions or insight and we aren't busy falling into a star or fighting off a fleet of bug eyed monsters feel free to speak on the command net. If you become a pain in the butt chatterbox I'll tell you, privately."

"When we transition into a new system I think you should have two pilots strapped in the Roadrunner, ready to ungrapple and head back the way we entered," Bodacious suggested. "If we find a major outpost or inhabited planet it will remove any temptation to try to capture or silence us to keep us from reporting home. They will see the cat is out of the bag already and have to deal with us on that basis."

"An excellent safety measure, Captain Henry. Make that your standard procedure for entry on the Murphy's Law."

Thor spoke up."As we get deeper, make sure the Roadrunner navigation suite is updated with our most recent jumps and inventory and make sure they have food and supplies sufficient to take them all the way back to Derfhome too. I'd also suggest they do not demonstrate their full acceleration capacity unless it is needed to avoid interception."

"Again, all good ideas, log them as standing orders," Gordon said.

Since the next system they entered would be new to their civilization, Captain Henry immediately ordered the new pilot of the Roadrunner to his command under their new procedures. Chance Ochocinco had previously served as first officer on several fast couriers. He was delighted to step up to his own ship. He had as his copilot the previous Captain Fat Ortega, who gave up the command of the heavy cruiser Quantum Queer to get his new berth. This was a measure of what people were willing to do to join the 'Little Fleet'. Chance was keenly aware that Fat had two decades of command experience on him and he didn't intend to waste that much expertise by being jealous of his authority. He intended to ask Fat's opinion and recommendations at every turn.

"We shall enter a new system next jump, never seen through the eyes of any of our three races. I'd like to take the High Hopes in heavy, with Retribution and Murphy's Law. If you do not see Roadrunner coming back out within a half hour, then I'd like The Champion William and Sharp Claws to jump in together. We'll pair up like this, practicing jumping in together in different combinations until everyone is comfortable. If you have any objections to your jump mate speak up. I will not force a movement against the Master's will if he feels his vessel at risk," Gordon said.

Each captain reported in turn they were good to go. They were on their jump line and Sharp Claws and The Champion William throttled back to allow the other three ahead.

"Tighten up," Brownie relayed Gordon's orders. "We shall jump at 1300+.6 hour to fourteen zeroes on my clock. That's the smallest interval of our clock and we should have the meter per second differential inside single digits when we go. Double check your settings with two different officers, because if you get left behind the tidal stresses will kill your ship," Brownie reminded them.

At 1300.60000000000000 hours they ceased to exist by all appearances to the two vessels left behind.

Chapter 3

The new system was quiet, as only an uninhabited system can be. There were some low frequency rumblings of a gas giant, quietly having minor indigestion in the depths of its atmosphere. One star held a tiny rocky planet so unbelievably close it was uninfluenced by the other star. Then there was a larger gap and the next planet wobbled around its sun influenced much more by both. That would prove unstable eventually. The orbit insured it had radical changes in climate at short intervals and was inclined far enough the planet rarely lost sight of one star behind the other. The computer couldn't predict its crazy orbit past a few hundred years. Neither star was particularly noisy, one not very different than the other.

The first planet showed from afar as having a carbon dioxide atmosphere, dense enough to hide surface features from optical examination. They weren't done doing a passive examination and hadn't used their radars yet. The second planet out was larger than Earth, very dense, with a high argon atmosphere and had a surface gravity of about one point four-five g. High enough it wouldn't likely be colonized, even if they got a longer term prediction of its orbit, because the long term health effects would be horrible. The temperature ran to the high side too, nothing below 45°C more than twenty degrees from the poles. It had considerable volcanic activity and surface water, although not near as much as Earth or Derfhome. Even Hin had more surface waters, though dispersed better. Technically it was a water world, but practically it was uninhabitable.

The world was likely a source of ore of some sort, having so much activity and water in its crust. However, a quick conference decided they would make a note of it but press on without doing a formal surface survey or leaving a claim marker, because although having free surface water the extreme range of climate and high surface gravity made it unlikely it could be Terraformed to a condition it could be colonized. It would require an exceptionally rich ore body to induce someone to mine it by remote control from orbit.

Before accelerating to leave, a high powered sweep of the system with radar showed nothing unusual. They started their exit run even before the furthest radar returns came in. The system they picked was on a line straight away from their home worlds and they jumped. This time the two DSEs and the Sharp Claws led, the rest bringing up the rear.

* * *

Eight more jumps while running two shift days left everybody tired so they all orbited a giant among gas giants, taking time from the usual duty stations, scooping fuel to top everybody off and declaring a liberty day on which you could break out personal intoxicants, socialize, and do what you wished for recreation. The few stuck working were promised the same freedom in two days, with a recovery day in between.

Their next target system was barely over two light years away, so the Sharp Claws withdrew from near any of the gas giants and deployed an antenna, listening to hear if their close neighbor had any signs of a radio using civilization. If they did they must be on the hand held walkie talkie level. After six days, refueled and refreshed, they jumped to the near system.

There was a rarity here, a water world worth at least a quick survey, a world with most of the surface in a temperature range humans could live without special suiting. The surface gravity, ninety seven percent of normal, was sweet too. They landed two shuttles, ascertained it was sterile for certain and left a marker in orbit claiming it. The five year limit on reporting claims might work against them finding it so early on this voyage. The claims process had never anticipated an expedition out so long that might be a problem. The chances somebody else would follow their route and file a claim when the five year period expired seemed slight though, more likely they'd be the claimant even if they were late returning.

If they didn't find more valuable worlds in the next year Gordon might consider sending the Sharp Claws back to register this world. It was worth at least several million each and a blue earring to their crews. They also couldn't carry enough inoculating materials to start the world on the path of Terraforming it and making an oxygen atmosphere. An entire ship load of such materials, algae, grasses and lichens, would take decades to put measurable free oxygen in the air.

The planet's soil samples and salts in the sea water indicated there would be ores for colonists when it came time to go look for them. The crustal plates were still active and it had an iron core and magnetism. The axial tilt and orbital measurements indicated it would have a stable climate, steadier even than Earth.

Minimal survey complete the fleet was on a line accelerating to leave the system. Everything was running perfectly. Nobody had said a word for perhaps a half hour. Brownie watched his board diligently, but nothing needed his attention. The computer automatically made all the small corrections needed to keep them on line faultlessly.

"Somehow when I signed on I thought there would be more, you know, adventure," Brownie said. "I know most of the crew joined up to get rich, but I never had the taste for money most of them display. I signed up for the experience. So far this is as boring as running to New Japan to pick up a load of com pads." That was a big speech for the gentle giant.

"Brownie, I know I'm just a kid," Lee told him, "but I have more experience at this exploring game than most of the crew. If you have an adventure it will teach you by contrast to appreciate boredom. Most of what people recount as adventure after the fact is plain old screaming terror at the moment you experience it."

"Ah, I'm instructed," he admitted with a nod.

* * *

The next system had an unusually large star, somewhat noisy and in a phase where it was showing quite a few sunspots. Several people predicted it was at least somewhat a variable, based on a few similar systems surveyed. There were a couple rocky inner planets with no real atmosphere, a couple small gas giants, but two extensive asteroid belts and a great deal of loose debris all over the whole system. Nothing stood out as useful or worth studying for scientific reasons.

They did a high powered radar scan of the system fairly early, while they'd still have time to read the echoes. The returns from the asteroid belts would be complex. Gordon and Thor were video conferencing with the other ship commanders, picking a target system for their next jump.

"Anomalous return on radar in the asteroid belt!" Navigation on the Retribution said, interrupting their conference with that important message. Almost immediately he added. "Make that two extremely bright reflections, well separated."

"Not a powered source, like a transponder?" Gordon asked right away.

"No Sir, but it is unlikely to be a natural return. It would take a very unlikely corner shape in the face of a metallic asteroid to bounce such a signal back."

"Can you steer a high powered beam on the points of interest and find out more about them?" Gordon asked.

"I can map their size better, but they are both over four light-hours out system from us. I'd suggest moving one of our ships to investigate rather than wait over eight hours for what little clarification a second sweep will give us."

"Good idea. Sharp Claws, are you prepared to do quick burn and head out there to see what they found?" Gordon sent to the destroyer.

"We can boost in fifteen minutes if we can take time to close up the galley for hot meals and secure duty stations for a two g boost. Is that acceptable?"

"Yes, do it, but don't break any legs or damage equipment pressing an arbitrary dead line," Gordon added.

"All hands, secure for acceleration in fifteen minutes," they heard the Derf Captain announce on ship com. His customary human name was Frost, as in Robert Frost, who he admired. "We shall ramp up to one g as soon as the horn is sounded. Secure all personal possessions and configure your duty station for acceleration. At five minutes a second horn will sound and you will be prepared for two g acceleration. Only special duty stations will be permitted tethered vertical personnel outside an acceleration couch. Off duty crew must be in their bunks. You are expected to have bottled water and urinals. Acceleration will not be eased for anything but a serious emergency. Heavier acceleration or an abrupt cessation of drive are both possible unannounced. All department heads acknowledge when prepared and report any failure to conform and why."

"Thank you, Sharp Claws, you'll be our eyes out there now," Gordon sent to them.

"Do you think we should disperse further or take any defensive measures?" Thor asked.

"I think whatever bounced our signal back was there from the moment we entered the system and hasn't given us any trouble. I expect some sort of artifact, but honestly no active alien presence," Gordon assured him.

"Alright, let's just stand our normal watches and wait to see what they report," Thor agreed. "I'm glad you didn't rush us all out there though, I like having one ship poke its nose in for us."

* * *

"Commander Gordon, we have images of the first object. It appears to be entirely passive. It's just an old fashioned corner reflector. It's only a couple meters across and it doesn't have any sophisticated geometry to boost the signal when it is oriented unfavorably. It is anchored to a fairly large asteroid with a stout mast. I'm assuming something about the asteroid makes it worth finding again. We don't have the testing equipment of one of the DSEs, but I can test a few points with the laser and see what sort of emissions we get. If anything looks interesting we'll cut off a sample."

The image they sent was well lit with a flood lamp. The radar reflector was crude, thick sheet metal just tacked at a couple points with a rude unpolished weld. The surface was aged, the metal smoother deep in the corner and frosted by micrometeorite abrasion nearer the edges. There were even a few visible pock marks where larger grains struck it and one actual hole four or five millimeters across drilled right through the metal.

"Before we go check out the other site I intend to cut off a piece of this reflector. I'm not a hundred percent sure that's what you'd want, but I'm going to chance it on my own initiative rather than wait for orders at the speed of light lag both ways at this distance. I'd hate to waste a full shift waiting for instructions. Several people have said this has to be old, as in thousands of years old. I'm going to put a sample locker for this on our outer hull of the Sharp Claws. I don't want to take the piece we cut off in atmosphere and ruin it by contamination for some sort of testing."

"This just in from my crew out there examining this rock. The rock shows it has very high cobalt content. I'd guess it was marked as an ore source," Frost said, "but nobody ever came back and worked it. If it is fairly homogenous we're looking at a several million kilograms of cobalt. I'll get a sample and move on to the next location. I expect to find another marker just like this one."

"You're doing just fine," Gordon transmitted to them. "Your sampling procedure is exactly what I'd have done. If you find an identical reflector on the other asteroid no need to cut into it. Just sample the rock. I'm sending The Champion William and Murphy's Law around the star to do a radar survey of the opposite side of the system. I'd like to know if there are more reflectors outside our viewing angle here. Since we'll be several days doing that, there is no rush to get to the other reflector at high acceleration. Take your time to avoid stressing your crew needlessly. I'd add that my personal guess is the erosion on the reflectors indicates a time frame of hundreds of thousands of years, not just thousands, so we have a mystery here why the miners never came back."

"The fellows who cut a chunk off the reflector say it's pretty pure titanium," Sharp Claws transmitted. "I'll leave the other alone until I hear from you. We're looking forward to hearing your take on it and instructions. We'll plan to leave for the other reflector when we have our crew recovered from outside and soon after getting your transmission. Until later, Sharp Claws out," Frost ended.

"That reflector is crude, it isn't designed to fold up and be carried aboard a ship," Thor suggested. "I'd say it was made on site, as a field expedient. So, yeah, I agree the aliens marked them to find again easily and then never came back. Why? Did they find an easier source to work, or closer to home? Or was the ship lost and never reported their find back home, or did something even bigger happen to their entire civilization?"

"Maybe we'll find out as we go deeper," Gordon hoped.

In the end The Champion William and Murphy's Law found three more reflectors on the other side of the star. One was on another cobalt rich rock. One they weren't very sure about, but it might have been the vanadium content. Two were so thick with native silver they mounted their own claim beacons on those rocks. The entire body of asteroids warranted a closer examination given the richness of the alien finds. They did a close fly-by of both rocky inner planets and a couple sizable moons around the gas giants. If there was a alien base or machinery anywhere else in the system it didn't show up on radar down to a half meter resolution. It was a mystery.

* * *

The Little Fleet did their first tight five ship jump into the next system. Everything went smoothly with all of them in a circle less than a kilometer across. There was nothing of interest. No alien reflectors. No rich asteroid belts or worlds worth claiming. This continued for five jumps until they took another break. Gordon wondered if they might have found something by jumping to one of the other systems accessible from the one with the alien artifacts. But it went against the general doctrine Gordon and Lee had established to stop and investigate a globe around one star. They intended to continue along the same general heading, going as deep away from Human and Derf space as possible without side excursions to slow them down.

The next system along their approximate line of flight was a bit over seven light years away, that was on the fringe of their radio detection ability, but Gordon had the Sharp Claws standoff, far enough from any natural emitters in the system and wide enough from their view of the star to examine the next system. There was a lot of unnatural noise, some suggesting audio and several frequencies suggesting video, but not clearly and not on any scan rate or pixel count used by Human equipment.

In conference the captains advised against giving away their present location as it gave too obvious a vector back to their home planets. Several wondered why there was no evidence of an alien presence in this system, only one jump away from an occupied system. Several suggested they might not have star flight, others pointed out that Survey System 418 was not much further from Earth then this next jump, but manned ships from Earth never attempted it. They always jumped in from one of two other nearby systems with greater stellar masses and a higher jump probability. Nobody wanted to risk a jump with even a one in a hundred thousand chance of not emerging. No one had any idea what happened to a ship that failed to achieve a quantum emergence and nobody especially wanted to find out the hard way.

They all did two jumps to a system off at about ninety degrees from their established line of flight. A known inhabited system was cause enough to make them hold back from pushing straight forward. They looked carefully and with caution, but neither system showed any signs of having been visited.

The Roadrunner was equipped with extra sensors and cameras, radios and recording systems. Mostly from the DSEs. Some of it might stay installed. She'd jump in, coast through on a long slow look at the system and then take an exit line that went on to a different system on the far side of their entry, behind the star from the planet, minimizing their drive signature as seen from the planet. It might take three or more jumps into virgin systems and a week to circle around back to them, but it seemed worth it to stay somewhat unexposed. They would do a minimal survey of each system in transit to rejoin their fleet, but stop in none. They expanded their crew to four pilots, all qualified to bring her back, so they never had to drop boost and rest.

* * *

Waiting was the hard part. It wasn't at all like stopping for a rest period. Eight days later there was a familiar burst of uncommon particles, decaying and making a electromagnetic chirp as Roadrunner rejoined their universe from its indeterminate state. They were very happy to see her and happier yet to hear her quickly sent signal instead of an alien ship.

"We have no indication we were detected," Roadrunner reported. They were wrong, but they had no idea. "There were radars active in the system, but none of them changed mode or steered a beam to examine the Roadrunner closer." The system was dirty, full of lots of small objects and the planetary surface subject to a constant rain of small meteors. The native radar was likely to give warning for the bigger more dangerous pieces.

The recordings were interesting. The video took awhile to figure out. It was analog. There were additional signals that had to be audio. The scan rate told them something about the native's vision. It wasn't hard to estimate the frequency of the sound track. The real bonus came with the understanding that the other channel was a universal text captioning signal, on a separate display. They appeared to have only one language.

The natives were bipedal, bilaterally symmetrical and had binocular vision. The eyes were large compared to Humans or Derf, on a par with the Hinth. Their hands were three fingered with double thumbs, as were their feet, much more dexterous than Humans or Derf, but having nothing on the ability of Hinth to use their feet, even though the Hinth appeared to have less delicate and suitable feet. Watching them shuffle and deal cards dispelled any idea Hinth feet were not very capable of subtle manipulation.

A fine short coat of fur ran down their backs, ranging from tan to black, but their skin was semi nude from the chin to crotch, with very fine hair. There was much variation among individuals. They wore clothing but didn't appear to have as strong a taboo against nudity. Part of that might be because their genitals were carried tucked away in folds so it was hard to tell at a glance if one was male or female for sure. Also the climate was moderate and they did have fur but not a shaggy insulating coat.

The hair on the alien's heads was just as short and fine as on their backs, but they had tufts of hair on the face, more prominent in the males, which looked somewhat like a set of mutton chop whiskers on a human, running from upright triangular ear to chin. Those tended to be a lighter white or yellowish color than the body hair. The nose was broad, cleft and active. The females carried mammary glands, but the nipple tucked in a fold by the hip, not by the arm pit. They looked sleek and carried a thin long tail.

There was a lot of display by these people of what they took for status symbols. There was a profusion of hats, some simple knit affairs, some with ear holes, to elaborate hats with molded shapes and decorations. The clothing ranged from full jumpsuits that appeared to be serious protection for professions doing manual labor to frilly decoration. The one item everybody wore was some sort of collar, even if otherwise naked. Some fancy with studs and jewels, some simple chains.

"The videos are odd. I don't know what to make of it. There isn't anything that looks like advertising. There are short local stories, but they aren't man in the street type videos with normal stuff happening in the background," Thor said.

"How do you know what's normal?" Lee asked.

"Good point, but I've seen broadcast news from Humans, Derf and Hinth. They all had similar elements these lack. These videos never have traffic behind the aliens on camera or crowds in the city. The actors all look stiff and uncomfortable in front of the camera. And I've noticed anytime one says "Teen" they all give a little jerk of the head, almost like bow."

"OK, we need to figure that word out," Gordon said. "I'm going to make this available to everybody in the fleet and see what people get from it. I want everybody to give me ideas what these videos are meant to convey and assign their opinion a numerical probability. For example, this video looks to be in front of a field and the one fellow points off camera and says something. Is he pointing out the way to town or showing which way his livestock took off or what? Ten percent probability or ninety? Don't be afraid to reach a bit."

* * *

Three days later they had their first all hands fleet conference. "Give me two items first," Gordon requested. "I'd like any item on which a large number of people had consensus and I'd like anything an individual assigned a higher probability than ninety percent."

"We have forty eight people who concluded that anyone wearing that dark orange color is some sort of official," Thor read, "with some mentioning government and some identifying it as a religious order. Thirty two people noted that in three scenes the wearers of orange are the only natives we see carrying weapons. In two videos they carry swords, and in the third they all have swords and two of them also have spears."

"OK, the color is some sort of an indication of authority. Are the weapons authority emblems, or are they functional, or both? These people have radar and geostationary satellites. Am I to believe they don't have guns, or at least bows and arrows?” Gordon asked them. “Something that acts at a distance."

The com gave a ping. Jeremiah Ellis from engineering on the Retribution wanted to speak and was connected. "There are very few frames that show mechanized vehicles, but this one video shows orange wearing natives arriving in a motor vehicle. I'd guess from the smokestack at the rear it is a steam powered vehicle, but note the exhaust is quite clean as it arrives. It may be turbine powered. The thing appears to be damn near as big as a city bus and it has pneumatic tires. Notice the artwork near the front door," he manipulated the image to expand it.

"The shield shape suggests military origins for the symbol. Note the two figures on each side. One has a spear held straight armed tilted away from him, which may be a parade pose. The other figure has a weapon held the same way, but it is shorter and has a distinct butt stock on the ground. He also has a pouch hung, which could be for ammunition and lacks the sword the spear carrier has. That's a musket or rifle or I'll admit Mrs. Ellis raised one very slow son," he challenged.

"What do you think the objects above the figures are?" Gordon asked.

"I've run it past my engineering section and we get some sort of fruit for the cluster of ovals, think something like grapes, the lines behind it being some sort of trellis or carrier and everybody agrees the arch of rectangular shapes between the solid irregular masses is a dam between rock masses. There are no openings or castellations to suggest it is a castle or fortification. We have consensus it's a dam."

"Thank you, has anybody else analyzed this art?" Gordon prompted.

"I would have never figured out the dam, because I've never seen one in real life," Thor allowed. "But I figured the words on the top edge are important. Three words would suggest a motto or unit identification, the first and last words I can't identify yet, but the center word is the 'teen' we see everybody bob their head when they say it. It matches up to the captioning."

Gordon got a request to speak and connected to Propitious Harrington on the Murphy's Law.

"Every video scene in which we see a street or road it is laid with brick. That sort of road is very enduring, cobbled roads on Old Earth are still in use that were built by the Roman Empire. But they are very labor intensive, some of them having bases laid down six or seven meters deep. There appear to be no utility poles even in town, so they either bury the common services for aesthetic reasons, don't have them, or their technology is deliberately restricted in how it is distributed. There are cultivated fields in quite a few videos, so they are an agricultural civilization, but we don't see anyone carrying anything you could take for a computer or phone. Also, the population level in a long static society suggests tight control of reproduction."

"Obviously they have video screens, or there would be no point in these broadcasts, but there is no scene in any of it showing a viewing screen. Either they are rare and communal, in a sort of theatre, or there is some dislike of showing a screen on a screen. There is no scene of a street busy with vehicles either, I'm starting to suspect they have a lot of the same technologies we have, but for some reason they aren't commercialized and widely distributed the way we do," he finished.

"Gordon, please note we have one statement, from one person, with a hundred percent handle. I think we should examine that. Nobody else had such certainty about anything," Thor explained. "I'd either like to know why or find out what duty this person is charged with. Such absolute certainty honestly frightens me. I'm rarely ever that certain about anything."

"Ming Lee?" Gordon read off the screen. "Would you like to explain your assessment for Thor and our benefit?"

"Yes, I'm the second cook on The Champion William. Despite what Mr. Thor seems to think, I am not a crank or disturbed person. I simply have experience, strongly reinforced in my family, as to what these broadcasts are. My great-grandfather and grandfather lived in an area of China on Earth which was populated by an ethnic minority. The government kept very tight control, suppressing even the slightest expression of dissidence. I have searched and highlighted a number of files of similar human video productions I will attach right now as references. I suggest you watch them silently, with no translation or captioning. The resemblance is uncanny. What you are seeing in these broadcasts is revolutionary theatre, or propaganda. Even the dark orange color of authority is a coincidental close match to the red of my homeland. I predict they will be authoritarian and very difficult to deal with," he finished.

"Thank you Ming, Mr. Jefferson?" Gordon allowed next.

"Even before Mr. Ming's assessment of the honesty of what they portray in their broadcasts, we only have a view through their camera lens and never got close enough to see for ourselves what is on the surface of the planet from orbit. I'd suggest we need some direct observation, perhaps even some closer looks from atmospheric drones and try to establish some communications from orbit before risking physical contact."

"This seems the course of caution to me too," Gordon agreed. "If anyone disagrees and feels it is too stand-offish write out your thinking and submit it with these suggestions. I should warn you that if you are in favor of a landing and an immediate face to face meeting, we'll take it as volunteering for such duty."

Nobody seemed eager to be such a volunteer and Gordon closed out the all-crew session.

"We need to decide how we are going to approach this world and compose a greeting and initial contact video formatted for their receivers," Gordon said to the flight crews. "I'd like to do a few orbits and map the surface before we decide where we are going to direct our contact message. I find myself leery of transmitting it to the entire surface as we orbit. We'll announce this fleet wide again first shift tomorrow and consider any further analysis of their transmissions that wasn't considered today. Let's get some supper and let the B team carry the ball a bit," he told the bridge crew.

"This is the first time we have heard anyone but the captain speak from The Champion William," Gordon noted to Thor, "and not much from him."

"Well you invited anyone to speak. He would have been out of line to deny Ming Lee his opportunity. What is your point? Did you think he'd spaced them all and was flying her alone?"

"Just that we usually have some chatter from the other ships officers. We're a civilian group, not under strict military discipline. I consider it a strength that we get different inputs. I haven't seen any indication it weakens my command authority. Do you think perhaps Priceless is a bit too much of a disciplinarian? Will he need to be questioned or counseled about it?"

"He is ex-military, Gordon. And so are a lot of his crew. They may be perfectly comfortable with no chatter on the flight deck. At this stage I'd just consider it a different command style than yours and let it go. Now, if we start getting requests from his crew to transfer to another ship or formal complaints, then I'd start asking questions. We may run into things out here where quick obedience to commands and snappy action will save his butt. Maybe your easy going style wouldn't work for him. It works for you because of the odd mystique you hold with your crews."

"What's that?" Gordon asked.

"The same as the Fargone captains. They think you present up front as a pleasant fellow who will listen to them, nodding agreeably, all the while figuring out how to ruthlessly have your way by some hellaciously devious action they will never be able to predict."

"Oh, that... "

Chapter 4

The Small Fleet jumped into the alien system, all in a group, the Roadrunner carried by Murphy's Law. It ungrappled and braked hard, staying in the fringe of the system at first. The Champion William and High Hopes took up a safer orbit well near the geostationary level, Murphy's Law at guard trailing them. Retribution and Sharp Claws with better defenses took up a lower circular orbit, inclined enough to let them map two thirds of the planet's surface in detail and a side look at the polar regions sufficient to their needs, since the natives didn't seem to use them extensively.

The world had two large continents, one in each polar hemisphere and one significant island between them in a vast equatorial sea. There was no large land mass to interfere with cyclonic storms and one raged right now in the equatorial sea opposite the one island. The island must see some tremendous storms with nothing to impede their growth.

Both poles had sea ice, but neither had a polar continent such as Earth had. There was a iron core generating a fairly strong magnetic field and the noisy star generated impressive aurora, but rarely down to the latitudes of the continents.

Both warships kept crews on defense stations, ready to intercept missiles, or roll the ship for beam weapons. The natives had geostationary satellites, carrying quite a bit of traffic, but only a couple lower satellites and nothing that looked big enough to be manned. They still had the tech to loft weapons to the level at which the two fleet ships orbited, if they wanted. Neither Gordon nor his captains assumed the natives lacked capabilities not yet demonstrated.

There were two large towns, of a size that would have a population of a million inhabitants or more, in any of their own cultures. One was fairly central to the bigger continent. The slightly smaller continent had a large city, centered on the larger western portion of the continent, the far east third of the landmass was separated by an impressive range of mountains. The island had the third largest city.

Both continental cities had large roads going east and west from them. The island geography made such a thing impossible there. The roadways went obsessively straight, refusing to deviate around a hill or mountain. Indeed the smaller continent had an artificial pass cut through the mountain range. Two approach roads on each end of the dig in progress showed that once the notch was dug to a new depth by the road builders, they laid a new road in it and switched to digging the route of the old road lower. If the the original pass was similar to the other natural passes to the north and south of it the natives had been switching back and forth, slowly opening the gap in the mountains deeper and wider for thousands of years.

The current road on the south side of the gap had a high point of three thousand meters and a bit from the level of the western plain. The notch being cut below it on the north side was currently about five hundred meters lower. The fleet engineers had no idea at what difference in height they would switch over and the artificial pass was widened generously as it was lowered. There were no steps in the sloped side walls to give a clue. The engineers estimated that if the number of diggers remained the same as what they saw now, they had been digging the channel for four or five thousand years. It might continue another ten or twelve thousand years before it was level with the plain. The crew was large, much of the labor done by hand and the excavating equipment small for such an undertaking from a human viewpoint. The excavated dirt wasn't taken down to the plains level but instead north or south and dumped at the head of long valleys cutting into the mountains.

The gap in the mountains was already so large it had a fan of vegetation on the lee side where the rainfall was greater due to the air channeling through the notch. At times the winds must be impressive through the gap. The entire west side of the range was covered in dams, as the art work they'd studied had suggested was important to them. They appeared to be for water conservation and agriculture, there were no power distribution lines associated with them.

Apparently opening a level road was more important to the natives than the climate change cutting a full break in the range would create. If they hadn't known what it would do when they started digging they had to know by now, because the fan of greenery on the east side of the gap now was obvious even from orbit. The road continued on past the mountains, straight to the far sea and a port, but without the build-up of civilization along it, and secondary roads radiating off north and south that the west side of the continental road had.

The bigger continent had a similar road, but it was easy to see it didn't have any barriers to compare to the small continent. Nevertheless it cut straight through any hill or valley. They were cut or filled in with a stubborn single mindedness. The surface was still brick, no large slabs or seamless surfaces.

Both large cities showed lights at night, but nothing on the scale an Earth city would. There were electronic emissions that indicated they used electric motors. The sole city on the equatorial island showed some lights at night too, but less than the two grand cities. The rural areas were near as dark at night as wilderness. If the natives ventured forth at night it was without the help of traffic signals or street lighting. Though they did spot a very few vehicles at night using electric headlamps.

There didn't appear to be any satellites emitting navigational signals, but there were radio beacons in the few active harbors and the two big cities had airfields that appeared to light up for a specific aircraft coming in, not all night. They counted the airfields and large aircraft parked at them and concluded there were only about two hundred airplanes on the world. If any were for passenger use and not freight they didn't have the custom of windows. None appeared to be transonic. They used very efficient scimitar curved propellers allowing them to push the Mach number.

There were a few dozen very small aircraft that might carry six or eight passengers. All apparently of the exact same design. Most of them were parked near the two big cities and they only saw two at distant fields. One however was in a very rural area, without even farmed fields, beside a large building they suspected was a palace. There were about three dozen such elaborate buildings, most again near the cities.

The aliens must have launch facilities, but they saw nothing indicating any real permanent infrastructure dedicated to regular launches. They looked hard, especially around the areas having aircraft facilities, but nothing resembling the sort of empty launch pads or gantries they expected was visible. The tech level of the satellites looked like about what Humans had not long after the First Atomic War, but they showed the survey people historic photos of launch sites from that era and nothing seemed to match. Maybe they assembled them and took them down after each use? If there weren't any obvious satellite lifters to be seen at least there weren't any possible interceptor sites to worry about either.

A primary function of the large cities seemed to be to facilitate the shipment and storage of grain. They were serviced by roads, apparently they never invented the railroad. The few Human farmers in their crews assured them the row on row of cylindrical buildings could be nothing other than grain silos. There were regional storage facilities too, but nothing like the two big cities.

The city on the main continent was different in another way. There were apartments, large residential buildings in the main city and one smaller facility of apartment buildings in the second largest city and in the island city. In the smaller city of the three it was almost all small residences and one palace, though many homes were of a size and sprawled construction that suggested extended, multigenerational family groups.

The fleet had a small group of trained ground troops aboard the Murphy's Law although they all held other daily duty posts. The troops could be quickly assembled and deployed as a group if they were needed. Their direct commander was a Fargoer Marine, Canny McDonald, and he was in the command circuit examining the incoming surveillance data.

"Barracks," he informed them in conference, after barely glancing at the photo.

"Why so sure, so quickly?" Gordon wondered.

"Because you have a unique structure here that tells me who occupies those apartments," he said, tapping the offending structure a kilometer away from the big buildings with his finger. There was a road directly from one to the other. "That's a shooting range and that small mound here is an ammo dump. What I'm missing is they don't seem to have any kind of air defense sites around what is a sort of military base. It lacks a well defined perimeter too. Which is really odd."

"They have no opposing governments to attack them," Lee concluded. "I'd say they have been in power so long they are comfortable keeping a minimal force to guard against rebellion. Any trouble they expect would be small and local and not well equipped."

"You may be right," McDonald said very tentatively. "Would you do a computer search and see how many structures similar to the barracks and firing range you find on the settled parts of the planet?" The computer scanned their entire mapped area and came up with three, one by each big city and one on the island.

"This tells me a great deal about them too," McDonald said after some thought. "They have a line of target pits at about fifty and hundred meters. There is a small group here, four pits, at two hundred meters. They either have crappy equipment, or can't shoot for shit. My boys start training at two hundred meters and the snipers are expected to qualify at a kilometer. The good ones, the artists, can shoot up or down hill, in a cross breeze and rain or shine, snow or heat at half again that distance. I'm really looking forward to seeing how these guys are kitted out."

He stopped and thought a bit. He seemed to be slow to throw out his first thoughts without reviewing them. "I don't want to give you the wrong impression. That doesn't mean we are invincible. We can put a squad of about twenty expert marksmen on the ground, maybe another thirty who know how to shoot competently, but not experts. Surround them with ten thousand guys with bows and arrows, slings and spears and they'd still overrun our asses and kill us all if we have no line of retreat. Keep that in mind. We can't fight a whole world for you. Not at the ground level you need to take it and hold it. Our very few heavier weapons wouldn't matter. We just don't have enough of them. Of course you can drop three nukes and this world is conquered," he admitted. "But do that and I can assure you one of your own will stick a pistol in your ear and change the line of command. None of us would sanction genocide. Destroy that grain distribution system in the cities and I'd guarantee much of the countryside would starve the in next year too," he said cheerfully.

* * *

Gordon, consulting with his officers, decided to make a minimal video as soon as their survey was done and the warships could assume a higher orbit. It would have as little attempted speech as possible. There weren't many words they were confident they understood. There, because of three instances it was used with pointing. A word that meant a group of some sort, but with no certainty it applied to any set number or gender or class. They were pretty sure they knew the numbers one through twelve, but not zero or more than twelve. They knew the name of a fruit that grew on a low bush and the irksome word Teen, which might mean God, or be a title of nobility, or just an expression of allegiance, completely abstract and not attached to any person or group smaller than the nation. They were pretty sure it was one big worldwide nation and single political or philosophical party or church. The few who favored a religion were bothered there didn't appear any building for assembly in any of the towns. What sort of church didn't hold meetings? Or at least conduct sacrifices atop big pyramids. But there were no theaters, sports stadiums or playing fields to be seen either.

"Something is bothering me," Thor announced the morning they intended to shoot their greeting video.

"The whole place is creeping me out," Lee admitted. "What did you notice now?"

"There aren't any cattle. They must be vegetarians, or only raise something small like rabbits or chickens. Our photos have good enough resolution I think we'd have seen anything as big as a pig. You certainly couldn't hide cattle or horses. There are no pastures or feedlots. Have the computer scan, with particular attention to the wild area left like the far east side of the smaller continent. See if there are any wild animals left in the undeveloped areas."

"Vegetarians suggests they choose to eat the grain we see them raise as their principal food. They may actually be obligate herbivores," Gordon theorized.

"Maybe. Not a single sentient race we've found has been though," Lee reminded them.

The scan showed deer sized animals, that kept to the wooded areas, never in the open plains and on the far coast some sort of analog to a seal or walrus. In the civilized area there was nothing. Not even in what appeared to be managed wood lots. Every meter was groomed and managed and allotted down to the smallest area. There wasn't any place left for what you'd class as wild. Gordon wondered if they even had weeds, or had managed to eradicate them too. He didn't think he'd like that sort of world.

Their mapping complete, the warships abandoned the lower orbit and positioned themselves near the geostationary satellite the natives had directly over the big city. Gordon kept thinking in terms of capital and firmly reminded himself that was an unfounded assumption. The Sharp Claws and Retribution were now at the same level as the DSE's, some ten degrees between them in orbit. Everyone felt safer higher, even though they hadn't seen a rocket lift from the world. The few satellites showed they had the tech.

* * *

Lee was dressed casually for the video, as she usually liked. She had on sturdy pants, a soft loose top and a vest with pockets all over it, and full face spex, but at full transparency so her face wasn't hidden. She had on a holster with a hypervelocity pistol and magazine carriers, as well as the fancy dagger Gordon gave her. She still liked the lighter six millimeter size and she wore her favorite gold Byzantine necklace from Earth of gold and platinum. She wore her voyage rings and the prominent front earring with an emerald that declared she was a discoverer of a living world. Like most she wore a small pad computer on her belt without any thought to it being there. She wore the black band of the Little Fleet around her left wrist, tied in a fancy knot like gift wrapping.

Gordon wore his fur and a Sam Brown belt with proportionally large pistol holstered on the supported side. He wore a fancy engraved bronze ax on the other side tucked in the belt without holster. His hand computer was clipped on his belt and he had a black silk ascot knotted around his neck. His voyage rigs were prominent, the front ring showing both a blue and a green stone, declaring he was a discoverer of both a water world and a living world. Not many wore any stones, much less two.

Ha-bob-bob-brie wore a gold wire necklace with his voyage rings slung on it. He adapted the traditional weapon of his race, a sword similar to a Japanese Katana, but about half again as long both in blade and handle. It was also straighter, having almost no curve. It was carried on the back, so the only thing seen from the front view was the grip sticking up over his shoulder. He also wore spex, clear and incongruous on his avian face and a tiny purse slung cross-wise from one shoulder. He had a black ribbon worn around his wrist with a small bow to mark his membership in the Little Fleet.

Thor joined them, wearing fur and nothing else but a black wrist band, so there were two Derf. Just to make sure Lee wasn't thought full sized, Alex Hillerman from their power plant and engineering crew joined them. He was dressed in a practical jump suit, with spex and no weapon. He had the usual computer and many visible pockets and a black brassard on his arm. He was very dark black skinned and he kept his head shaved. Gordon wondered if he might not be mistaken for a different race than Lee, but didn't want a mob in front of the camera. Humans varied so much even a third sample might not represent their species sufficiently.

They transmitted a picture of them all together on the flight bridge of the High Hopes, but relayed to the Retribution for actual broadcast. The engineering department requested they shoot the video looking toward the back of the chamber, so that the details of all the boards were not revealed. Each of them pointed at themselves and stated their name. Then they each named themselves again and Gordon and Thor identified themselves as Derf. Lee and Alex named themselves as Human and Ha-bob-bob-brie identified himself as Hinth. They all inclusively identified themselves as people. They waited to see if the natives would respond. There was silence and no response for fifteen minutes.

"What do they have you doing on your work shifts if there is no planet worth exploring the surface?" Lee asked Ha-bob-bob-brie. "I hope you aren't bored and unhappy."

"I have been doing maintenance and repair on both Derf and Human pressure suits and environmental suits, little sister. Since I had experience with Hinth suits I had a base knowledge to build on and it has been beneficial for all. I've both learned a great deal and been able to offer an occasional better way to do things. It hasn't been boring at all. If it ever does get boring or so caught up nothing is needed Engineering has indicated they would be pleased to offer me a course on instrument fabrication and repair. They indicate it requires a delicacy of touch I was surprised to hear not all Humans possess." Ha-bob-bob-brie held up a hand and looked at it like it was something new.

"There is a huge variation in that sort of talent among Humans," Lee admitted. "I'm glad to hear you are busy. Sitting idle is harder than having too much to do, in my opinion."

"Very much so," Ha-bob-bob-brie agreed, "no danger of that here." He bobbed a little bow and excused himself.

Lee dipped her head to grant him leave. She was happy he'd called her 'little sister' with such warmth and so naturally. It reminded her how pleased she was to be 'known' to the Hinth. The honor had been granted her before she realized how rarely it was given.

* * *

There were two crewmembers having some talent with languages and working full time on interpreting the transmissions of the planet. They let them take over the screen to send and attempt to get words they wondered about defined. They drew animated outlined figures and identified body parts, had them do simple actions hoping the natives would see what they were doing and respond. They ignored them the same as the video of the crew.

"How about if we just move on and tell them in effect to kiss our hairy little butts?" Thor suggested the next morning when there had still been no response overnight.

"Maybe they don't believe the transmission?" Lee speculated. "Maybe they think it is an elaborate joke or a scam? Do they have sufficient image editing capacity to do a special effects short like a science fiction video with made up races and a fake background as complex as our flight deck?"

"We haven't seen any ability to generate images," Luke, a fellow studying their transmissions responded. "They don't do avatars, not even simple stick figures, they don't even do fades or titles with fancy text in 3D shapes. No arrows or highlighting or circling a choice with a line. My eight year old niece would be bored with the plain vanilla video they pump out."

"I don't think they have computers!" Lee blurted out. "At least, not any decent ones..."

"They are probably wondering how we draw stuff directly on the screen. They'd have to draw it in front of the camera on a white board, or a paper pad," Luke said. "We just take it for granted."

"Whatever they can put in front of the camera lens, that's it?" Lee asked horrified.

"Maybe put some of the words we see captioned on the screen and see if they offer any drawing to try to explain it? If they don't want to go the other way, with us drawing, time to change something," Luke suggested. "If it's as authoritarian as Ming thinks they may still be waiting for permission to speak to us. We may get a big rush of replies all at once when they get a go-ahead."

"As long as they're not shooting at us, keep sending things, give them another day or two. Let us know if you make any break through. If they don't respond we'll be thinking on what to do in a couple days. If they refuse to talk, well it's their planet. They don't have to answer the door," Gordon said.

* * *

"They are answering, very tentatively and limited," Luke said a few hours later.

"We're making some progress," Luke reported two days later on. He looked haggard.

"They started talking?" Gordon asked.

"One word at a time, but on three channels. It's slow. You know 'Teen'?

"Oh sure, that's the big one, so we have to get it right," Gordon said.

"Tentative translation is king. We got a drawing of a pyramid of stick figures. The one on the very top, all alone, is circled and labeled 'Teen'. We're capitalizing it now." Luke brought the picture up and showed Gordon. "Do you see what else there is, besides being on top?"

"No collar?"

"Got it in one. They didn't say anything about that, they just drew it that way. Figure the collars are slave collars, or might as well be. The Teen owns everyone. More to the point, the Teen owns everything. We drew exchanging objects, trying to explain trade. They can't trade. None of them own anything. If they have anything it's because the Teen gave it to them to use, but it was and is his, they just get the gift of its use by his kindness."

"That makes trade kind of tough," Gordon admitted. "Even if he gives us something, he can change his mind and take it back. We have no standing to form a contract."

"Exactly, and the meteor bombardment they suffer constantly from all the system trash has a price on their society. They explained in pictures that about two thousand years ago they detected a rock coming in and evacuated as many as possible from the town where it was headed. It still killed about twenty thousand they couldn't get out in time. They are pretty much obsessed with that and that's why they have radar. They developed it for identifying incoming rocks and asteroids. They know a world killing rock is a possibility, but their tech has been at this level for at least eight thousand years if we understand them correctly. In my opinion they seem a bit fatalistic and have no real idea of getting out there and controlling anything from hitting, instead of just trying to get some warning. That explains a lot of the oddities of their architecture. Most homes are built behind a wall and berm on the east side where meteors tend to come in against the planet's rotation. Really important people are housed well underground or the west side of a substantial hill where it is safer. Even roads have shelter walls and berms a vehicle can pull next to when there is a shower."

"And yet they can put up geostationary satellites and have radar."

"They do, and it is awkward expensive tech for them and takes a great deal of their wealth. They do it with tech not much better than Humans had right after the first atomic war. That's another thing. They not only don't have any but the simplest computers, but we see no neutrino emissions or other indication they have any idea about atomic power. Certainly, no detailed ideas about atomic structure or any modern theories of particle physics. Figure no quantum theory at all, just classical mechanics and chemistry."

"Given what we are learning about their social structure, I'm not sure I want them having better tech. They make much better neighbors behind a light years tall fence." Gordon decided.

"The crazy thing is, they see the Teen's total ownership as the only way to have peace," Luke said. "They informed us in pictures that in olden times, before there was one Teen, men all constantly fought over who owned what and everybody suffered war after war. But notice, with almost complete control of their society, they choose to keep it mostly agricultural, instead of developing tech and pushing further into space."

"Farmers are easier to control," Thor suggested. "They may not be thrilled to find out we still war."

"They don't look that aggressive, do they?" Gordon asked.

"They have a nasty passive aggressive attitude. They wanted to know who Lee and Ha-bob-bob-brie belong to, because they were wearing something around their neck. They wanted to know when we were going to bring the ships down so the Servants of the Teen, that's what the emblem on the bus said, can inspect his ships for the Teen."

"When they serve peppermint ice cream in hell," Thor suggested.

"They also want to know how we got here. We're pretty sure they saw the Roadrunner go through the outer system and then disappear. That's what they seemed to draw for us. They know nothing goes faster than light. They stated that to us sort of indignantly I think, because he raised his voice and moved more. He stated it as a fact, not a question, like we might argue. Maybe scared we might argue. So they are very uncomfortable seeing how fast our ships are compared to chemical rockets and they don't even know how to phrase the questions they need to ask about our transit time between stars."

"There's no way around it, we simply can't let these ownership assumptions go unchallenged. They would be perfectly reasonable to say we didn't object to them later, if we just ignore them now," Gordon told them.

"I expect they are not going to want to hear it," Luke warned them.

"Be as polite as it is possible to be, but make clear that while the Teen is on top of the pyramid at home, we are not under him and if we wear a collar or necklace it isn't because we are owned. We own ourselves. If they can't treat us with respect as independent people, peers... well not their peers I guess, they seem to be slaves. But we may have to go away, because we can't trade with them. The Teen's power doesn't reach to the stars," Gordon said.

"I'd be willing to see it never does," Thor muttered.

"That is stretching the limits of what we can say. I know we are going to have to back up and do some words again, one at a time. It may take more than a day to express those ideas."

"We're not in a rush, I'm sending the Retribution and The Champion William to look over the outer system in more detail. I don't think we need all of us here. Advise us when you feel you've made some progress again," Gordon requested. "We won't juggle your elbow and hurry you. It's rather important these things be translated accurately, rather than quickly."

"Oh, I'm curious too," Gordon asked. "Do you have a name for the natives? Do you know what they call themselves? Or have you coined an expression for their race?"

"They just call themselves their word for people. It's probably more important that they have never referred to us as people. They don't even call us other people or outside people. Near as we can figure they just call us other – in the singular form," He looked embarrassed. "Benson in environmental assures us they look like big prairie dogs, but nobody else is familiar with them and a two word name is awkward. Because of the flat cleft nose and how it twitches all the time, we started calling them Bunnies. I know it doesn't fit anything else about them, but when you sit and look at their faces all day on video, it seemed obvious to use that."

Lee put her hand over her mouth, clearly trying to control her amusement.

"We won't make that official just yet. Hear me?" Gordon asked him sternly. Luke just nodded.

* * *

"Gordon, I think you and Thor need to see our latest exchange," Luke said six shifts later. They joined him in the end of the dining area that had become their make-shift translation and communication center. Luke and his partner had recruited another crew member and they were both seated against the wall, looking distressed and leaving it to Luke to make the report to their commander.

"This is the last conversation with the Teen's men charged with talking to us. In reality they were charged with issuing us orders. I'm afraid the fact we would not accept those orders put them in a no win situation. Their personal survival was probably in question. Watch please."

The English sub-titles were auto-translated from the transmission. There were three of the natives seated before the camera and others came in and out, laying down documents and picking up notes the three made.

Luke speaking: "We will not land. Stop asking. We expect (see literally) you take our (literally, not Teen) ships if we land. Teen is your Teen. We have no Teen. We no want one."

First native: "If Teen not own everything (unknown word) to far stars – Teen owns almost nothing. One star in all the (unknown word) heavens is nothing. Either he owns all or our law and (peace?) is (unknown word, may be curse) nothing (zero?)."

Second native: "We have no way (hand literally) (to? variation on word) make them land. What you suggest we do?" (Face of native is very contorted. This may indicate great stress.)

First native: "Tell it to Teen." (His face assumes similar contortions. This statement may not have been a serious suggestion, but identifying sarcasm in a new alien language is chancy.)

Third native: "We are doomed (dead?)."

First native: "Tell Teen this!" (He rips off collar. Second native jumps up and snatches it from his hand and grabs him in a head-lock from behind.)

Third native: (Looks at struggling pair. Then looks at camera lens.) Says: (three unknown words. Camera feed cuts off. Carrier signal follows quickly.)

"That was about a half hour ago," Luke explained. "We haven't been able to get a signal again. The volume of traffic to their satellites went way up for a few minutes and then dropped off hard. I'm afraid we made a mess of it."

"Do we have a current video feed for the big city?" Gordon asked. "That's where their studio is, right?"

"Yeah, just outside the city near one of those palaces. We have a telescope on them, recording. We figured we'd want to see later if they moved vehicles or changed defensive posture in response to anything we said. I'll bring it up on the big screen for all of us." Thor said.

Nobody wanted to say anything. There was a good wind blowing across the city. Plumes of smoke drifted in narrow lines from the area of the studio and the nearby palace that seemed to be burning, even more robustly than the studio. Vehicles were going down the road away from the city in a clump. They'd never seen so many before. A number of vehicles also seemed to be on the shoulders of the road nearer the city, burning.

One of the large barrack structures was burning and there were a large number of vehicles around the burning palace. One of the bridges across a river that ran through the city seemed to be missing, just a stub left on each shore. The other bridge had a jumble of vehicles piled in the middle, one actually hanging over the rail. There were half a dozen big fires across the city, in buildings whose function they hadn't identified.

"Wow, am I glad they don't have nukes and stuff," Luke observed. They sat and watched the smoke spread for awhile in silence.

"Doesn't that seem a bit of over-reaction?" Lee finally asked in a strained voice.

"To you, or me, yeah," Gordon agreed. "I mean, we carefully never said anything to indicate we would interfere with their system, or that we even wanted them to change. We just refused to submit to the Teen ourselves."

"Apparently they are so invested in the idea the Teen's ownership must be universal, that to be shown it has limits destroys the authority of the whole system," Luke theorized. "They never asked us how our system worked without a Teen. There was just no interest in that at all."

"You said you made a mess of it," Gordon reminded him. "I can't blame you for this. Even if we sat back and studied them for years, there is no way we could have known they were this close to the tipping point of their system collapsing. All on the basis of a few words we said to them. The only safe way would have been to sneak away and never try to talk to them, never even run a ship through like we did the Roadrunner. It's ridiculous to assign yourself guilt over such a crazy reaction."

"I hope the rest of our civilization agrees with you," Luke said. "Otherwise it may become the law that we can't speak with an alien civilization. Not even approach their system if we detect signals from outside."

"On the other hand," Thor said, looking grim, "imagine the Bunnies figuring out a jump drive and bursting forth upon the other populated worlds, announcing they own everything and demanding the peasants all line up and get slave collars. I don't see that as any improvement. It's not like Human contact with the Derf and Hinth were totally trouble free, but nothing so quickly and widely violent. The Elves and the Beavers never had a hiccup," he said, naming the two known aboriginal races, still uninterested in any real close contact.

"Call The Champion William and the Retribution back from the outer system survey," Gordon ordered. "Anything more we say, even if we could contact them, would just be digging ourselves in deeper at this point in my opinion. I'd like for us all to rendezvous outside the orbit of their moon. We'll continue looking for other worlds. We'll discuss whether we should stop on the way back home and see how things settled out, or leave well enough alone."

"Aye, aye," Thor agreed. "But I'll continue to record and leave a small satellite to continue surveillance after we leave. Even if they can detect it, I doubt they can spare the resources to come up and interfere with things in such turmoil. If we pass back by it'll be interesting to see how things progress and how long they take to stabilize."

The ships found nothing in the outer system to indicate the Bunnies ever sent probes out there. If they had they were long dead and silent or crashed.

By the time the Little Fleet broke orbit and left, the other city was burning too. Then somebody pointed out that some of the dams on the second continent seemed to have burst. Nobody had much to say. At least nobody suggested destroying the recordings and pretending they'd never been there.

Chapter 5

The Small Fleet picked a star beyond the Bunnies' that the Roadrunner had not visited after passing through the Bunnies' system or in the arch back to them. The system turned out to be unusual in that it had twenty planets, several with moons. None were water worlds, nor did any show signs of life and none huge gas giants. That there was no large band disturbed by the gravity of large planets which helped explain such a crowded system.

The odds one had a particularly heavy concentration of an important mineral was not worth tying up the Fleet to do a survey. They recorded the general scan information and moved on. Radar showed nothing unusual within the orbits of the planets.

* * *

The next system never formed planets. It was a disk of unconsolidated material. The Little Fleet stopped short and cautiously moved over the plane of most of the orbiting junk. There was a radar return from deep in the mess, suspiciously similar to the alien reflectors marking the mineral rich asteroids previously. Gordon was unwilling to risk even a shuttle to investigate this one. It did suggest the unknown aliens could safely navigate in a cluttered system that intimidated them. They moved on.

* * *

The system beyond was a hierarchical three star system, a tightly orbiting pair and a larger companion. Only it wasn't when they looked closer. There was a brown dwarf orbiting the larger companion instead of a simple three body system. Not many brown dwarfs had been examined closely. There was one about six light years from Earth, but like most it didn't have sufficient mass to make jumping into its gravity well a safe transition. There were no interesting planets in the system, a couple small gas planets way out and some asteroids than were far too thin to call a belt. The brown giant however had satellites and that was so unusual they took a closer look. On the way in they scanned the system hard with radar. The echo they got was not off in the fringes of the system, but right where they were going.

There were several rocks tagged with reflectors, the same crude sort they'd seen before. These were a bit smaller and more of them. The brown dwarf was lousy with moons and moonlets rich in elements of high atomic number. One moon had been excavated so much it had a visible pit in one side. There was a bigger boom anchored next to the pit, bigger than the ones used to mount radar reflectors. Everyone quickly agreed it was a ship mooring mast. After sampling showed platinum group metals, tungsten, osmium, gold, thorium and uranium on various rocks the consensus was that this moon system was far from played out and it was abandoned while being worked.

The rock with the uranium deposits appears to have been so rich it was once critical for a period of time, the Fargone Marines exploring by suit informed them. There were elements consistent with the decay products of fission products and laser vaporization even revealed traces of transuranics.

The end of the mooring mast had clamping marks and discoloration. Testing with the laser showed the yellow markings were from a bronze alloy. Most of the rubbed off bronze had been eroded by micrometeorite impacts. The system wasn't that dirty, so the mast was old.

Gordon sent The Champion William to orbit a claim satellite around the whole brown dwarf system. There was enough here to make them all rich many times over.

They didn't have a real Astrophysicist, but a fellow in engineering followed all the latest research as a hobby and they'd loaded all the recent papers for him. Gordon gave him a call.

"Ernie, are there any current theories of stellar formation that would explain such a system?"

"No, not a one. I can confidently say nobody predicted this, but if I were you I'd keep the find quiet until you have to make it public. If only we can figure out how it formed we have a much better chance of finding similar systems. I would really like first shot at putting a clam satellite around them too."

"Don't you think this one will give you more money than you could ever spend?"

"I don't think you can imagine how much I could spend. I'd like to be able to buy and sell deep space explorers and warships like Lee. You're damn near as rich as her from Providence. Does that mean you'll be turning down your cut from this find because you have enough?" Ernie asked.

"Uh..."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Brown dwarfs are not that uncommon but we don't have many in the sphere of human exploration. It would be expensive to visit a brown dwarf all alone by itself. They don't have enough mass to make it a safe transition unless you have an ungodly velocity, so going to and from one will be expensive in fuel. You come in close to one too, so it takes a lot of fuel just to vector away from hitting the damn things. If there isn't another gas giant associated with one you'd have to mine it directly for fuel and most of them are still pretty damn hot, even if they haven't ignited as main sequence stars."

"This is a pretty fortunate combination then, isn't it?" Gordon asked.

"It sure is. We have a couple small gas planets further out to fuel up and the bigger star the brown dwarf orbits lets us make a safe jump in. We should look hard for this combination. I'd hate to make a fast pass through a system and miss a brown dwarf hidden on the back side of the main star. That's assuming there are similar moon systems around others, but the possibility of finding more is exciting and certainly worth pursuing. I'm having a hard time understanding how so many heavy elements congregated, but I have even less of a clue how they accrued in separate masses, so concentrated."

"Thank you for your help,” Gordon said. “I'm recommending you for a double share on this one, for your advice."

"Excellent, that's why I came along," Ernie said. "I admit seeing such systems ahead of the big boys with all the proper degrees and professional reputation is sweet. But have they found any more artifacts?"

"Not so much as a busted bolt,” Gordon admitted. “We have the Fargone Marines crawling around that mined out pit, looking in every pocket and crevasse with hand lamps. Whoever they were, aside from the reflectors, it seems like they were obsessively neat."

Ernie nodded agreement. "Yeah, if it was Humans who mined that big a pit out of the moon you'd have a dump heap of bent and worn machinery parts, busted drill bits, bad cables and empty ration bags and cans besides the junk like worn over-gloves and empty lube injectors that guys just drop wherever they finish using them."

* * *

"That's it?" Thor asked two days later, looking sort of peeved. The object was round with a scalloped edge. "What is it?" He asked. He made no move to take it from Gordon's hand.

"A cap of some sort I'd guess. See the other side is concave with threads." He flipped it over in his hand. A spiral of threads ran down the side wall to a flat inside surface without any gasket.

"And no bottle to screw it on?"

"Hey, we almost missed this. It was under some dark ore pieces and it was only because the Marine took the initiative to poke around with the rod he was carrying that it came to light. I put him on the list for a double share."

"It might not go on a bottle," Lee objected. "There are tanks on machinery that hold lubricants and other fluids. I used to carry specimen bottles for bugs and small plants that had a similar lid. The body was glass too, not the same as the lid. That lid was some sort of plastic. What is this made of?"

"Aluminum, with a little silicon, tin and traces of magnesium, hard anodized and dyed," Gordon supplied. "That's why it has a little bright chip in the surface on the inside flat. They cut a little piece out on the milling machine to analyze. The machinist was helpful too. He looked at the threads under a magnifier and told us they were milled on with a spinning cutter that had the thread profile along its edge. You also need a robotic machine tool to do that, you can't feed it in by hand. A single point tool could do it on a lath, but that's not how it was done."

"The edge tells us they have fingers," Lee said confidently.

"I don't know. Why not tentacles?" Thor asked.

"Tentacles aren't going to be as strong. If they had tentacles the edge would have little knobs or slots you could wrap a tentacle completely around. I've struggled to get jammed jar lids off before. Sometimes I had to get my dad to take a knife and rap it all around the edge to get them loose."

"You scare me sometimes," Thor admitted. Lee just shrugged. It seemed obvious.

"Ah, it tells us something else," Gordon said, with a smug smile. They just looked at him and wouldn't beg to be enlightened.

"Their hand is at least big enough to span across it and have enough finger length to fold over the edge and engage the dips on the edge."

Lee put her own small hand out and fit it over the cap. It was about a hundred millimeters across. "Yeah and most of them had a bigger hand than I do, it's a real stretch for me." The Derf though had more than enough reach.

Gordon frowned, deep in thought. "I'd caution that it has likely been hundreds of thousands of years since this rock was mined. We should not presume the same race made the reflectors and the screw lid. This might be from someone like us, who came through exploring long after the original miners, got sloppy and left an artifact behind. I'm not saying it's likely, but it is possible."

"Whether there was one race or two, the fact they are so neat about cleaning up a site, says a lot to me. They are either different than us psychologically or they have had bad experiences meeting others and now don't want to give them any clue about their race by leaving artifacts behind," Lee said.

Thor nodded agreement. "Things we consider an aberration or impairment might be normal. You might have an entire race of obsessive compulsive people. They might never allow randomness. Piles of objects oriented every which way would offend them. Everything would have to be turned the same way and lined up. Someone who was a slob would be institutionalized as crazy. I bet they'd see patterns whether they were there or not, like humans who get involved with numerology or astrology."

"I saw a little of that in the Bunnies," Gordon suggested. "I'm not sure we wouldn't classify the lot of them as mentally ill. They drove that road across the continent and by damn it was going to be level even if they had to tear down a mountain range to do it. Where is the need?"

"Of course if that's literally what the Teen told them to do, they'd do so, wouldn't they? Lee asked.

"Yeah, I bet you don't ask the Teen if he's sure that's what he wants," Gordon agreed.

"That reasoning fits with the fact they had an absolutely fixed idea about the Teen and there was no making a partial change or adjustment. It was all or nothing," Thor said, and actually shuddered.

"We have been leaving claims satellites," Lee reminded them. "If it's dangerous to leave things that tell a lot about you then I suggest we clean up after ourselves too. Just in case. Let's not leave anything more complex than those beacons. They tell much more about us than these radar reflectors, but there isn't much we can do about that while the Survey demands they be placed for claims. We might suggest back home that something like the reflectors with passive lettering is safer than a big squawking radio beacon."

"Then we should pick them back up on the way home," Gordon said. "The chance somebody will cross over our path and claim something we didn't tag is so small. If somebody decides to do a deep voyage like us surely they will go off a different route. Following us they could expect we'd have already claimed the good stuff and their effort could be wasted."

"It sounds sort of paranoid, but I agree," Thor said. "I just wish we had somebody who could give us an accurate idea how old these reflectors are. I'm going to have one of the small ones here put whole in the vacuum sample box on our hull. When we get back maybe somebody can date them."

"I wonder how long one of our claims satellites will keep transmitting? They only hold the claim for five years, so I doubt they spend money to make them last very long," Gordon guessed. "I'll ask engineering if they have specs on it."

"Maybe that's a good thing," Lee decided. "Are we done here?'

"Oh yeah," Gordon set the cap down. "We'll let the off shift stand a watch and we'll transition out of this system in the morning. I sent Roadrunner to look closer at the binary orbiting around this star and they should be back and grappled to Murphy's Law by our shift."

* * *

Ernie Goddard from engineering left a message he'd like to talk to Gordon overnight. Gordon wondered if he'd ask for a bigger share than a double. The man seemed a little avaricious, but he was spot on that Gordon didn't want to limit his own wealth, he had to admit. Why didn't he just leave a text message? Gordon already had too many messages to sort every morning.

"Ernie? Gordon here. What did you want to talk about?" The man was up already and dressed.

"I understand you have a couple weaponized jump drones?"

"Yes, though I'd appreciate if the Little Fleet didn't broadcast that in port. They are a very dangerous weapon to use. I only bought two and I'd be very reluctant to use them except in extreme circumstances. If you guess wrong you could easily kill an innocent ship or station on the far side of jump."

"I can see all that. But I've been thinking about these brown dwarfs. If we find another that is harder to make a safe jump in and examine with a ship, perhaps you could put a few sensors and recording equipment on one of those drones and it could safely make a jump in and examine a brown dwarf system for rocks and moons like the jackpot we found. Now, I don't know if the warhead is easily removable, but if you can take even some of the warhead mass off it will make the drone even easier to transition into a low mass system. Would you consider that and see if it's helpful?"

"The warhead is a separate Fargone package on a New Japan drone, so it's relatively easy to yank it out and put it in storage. We can even put it back in later if we expend the other drone and really need it. All the extra computing power it carries will allow us to give it detailed instructions for doing a survey too. I'll have your boss start making a sensor pack and data recording system for one of the drones and I'll tell him it was your idea." Gordon got a twinge of guilt at his first thoughts about Ernie. "And Ernie, this is what makes a crew really successful, good ideas from everybody. Don't let it go to your head, but I'm going to put you down for another share for exemplary service. I'd keep it to myself if I were you. Some of the others who are not as quick with ideas might be jealous."

"That's nice and good advice, thank you Sir. Being appreciated is nice too, besides the money."

"Call me again if you get any more ideas," Gordon invited and broke the connection. If he kept coming up with stuff this good Gordon might have to pay him a fourth share. He was worth it.

* * *

They transited seven more systems with no alien artifacts, no significant planets and nothing really unusual except one star had a large planet so close it had baked off all the volatiles and the iron core with a thin crust was orbiting the star yellow hot and molten. It turned so fast the night side didn't have time to freeze. It simply had a bit of a graduated glow as the edge turning into the dark was hotter than the edge going back to the light. They were tired again and planned a rest if the next system was suitable. It was stressful going through a bunch of boring systems, while keeping alert.

* * *

"Do you realize? We've been taking the longest safe jumps on the same vector away from known space for long enough now that the distance has really added up. We are now almost as far from what was considered the near frontier at Fargone as it is back across all of explored Human space to the far surface of expansion," Gordon told them.

"And we haven't even been out six months yet. That just justifies my theory to me," Lee said. "It just shows how slow everybody has been expanding."

"We have enough right now to turn a profit against the cost of the expedition. We have a water world, a huge deposit of silver, a moon system with so many heavy metals I think it will take centuries to mine out, and of course a living world," Gordon enumerated, lifting a claw for each.

"But we can't claim an occupied world," Lee complained. "We may be in the history books for finding it, but if the Bunnies don't get their act together and trade with us we won't make a profit off finding them. I suppose we could put a brag gem in our earrings, but I wouldn't feel right to even survey and mine their outer system. It would feel like plundering the kitchen in somebody's house to claim anything in an inhabited system. Did anybody try to mine in the outer systems of Hin or Derfhome?"

"Somebody tried to file a claim for Hin and the Claims Commission disallowed it in pretty strong language. The Commission made it clear enough that nobody tried it on the other occupied worlds," Gordon told her. "I would suppose you could get a license from the natives to mine, but with the Bunnies I suspect they'd want you to do it for free, since the Teen already owns it."

They were orbiting a beautiful gas giant with enormous rings to shame Saturn and a couple dozen moons. All the ships were fueling up on a slack schedule. There were minimum crews on duty and even those taking turns off. There were card games with IOUs changing hands, making wild assumptions about what their shares would be worth when all the claims proved out.

The Hinth holed up in their suite for this break and Thor explained as delicately as possible that three Hinth were a breeding group, the neuter third sex being the one who sat the nest and hatched the single egg. "They are a bit like Humans and consider it indelicate to discuss the details in public," he told Lee.

Nobody got so blind drunk they made a nuisance of themselves and the crew had hoarded enough materials and entertainment that nobody was short at the six month mark. There wasn't any shortage of food or spare parts. The experimental hydroponic garden in The Champion William was a sour fuzzy mess however. They stripped all the trays and tanks out, sterilized the soil and reinnoculated it with bacteria and worms from the Retribution. They also sent one of their gardeners over to supervise and see if he could have similar success with the garden there.

There was concern there might be some source of fungus and mildew aboard that would recontaminate it. A few cabins that the Hinth, with their sensitive sense of smell, declared had a 'funny' odor about them were pumped down and opened to hard vacuum as a precaution. One crewman's cabin the Hinth wouldn't enter. He was forced to vacuum clean all his clothing while he did a personal supervised scrub down and decontamination procedure in the clinic while his cabin was cleaned. One pair of his soft shoes was double bagged and incinerated as beyond any known cleaning regimen. He was then assigned a supervisor to make daily checks of his cabin and person.

 Thor taught Lee how to play Go. She liked it better than chess, which she found no fun; chess seemed needlessly complicated and she grew bored and antsy after a dozen moves. Maybe she'd like it better when she was older, Thor predicted. For some reason she couldn't articulate, that irritated her.

The engineering department converted the jump drone to a brown dwarf explorer and put it back in the launch tube ready to deploy before they took a well deserved break. The cooks prepared a few special treats like actual cakes that were hard to do when there was variable acceleration and maneuver to contend with. They dug a few items out of stores that were not served every day like prawns and whole fish. It made their break seem different and special. The last day shift of the break they had a German breakfast and a Mexican supper, complete with Polkas and Mariachi music. After six days everybody had received a minimum of two days off and they were ready to move on.

* * *

The next jump the new clock in the old cabinet on Sharp Claws, that had varied a few nanoseconds from the others before was slightly off again. They tore out the entire chassis, examined it and the mounting studs on the bulkhead, checked for sharp points and cracks, ran new wiring from the clock to the computer and power source and added isolating shielding on the runs. When they reinstalled it they fabricated a new housing and put another clock in a fourth cabinet, positioned it on a different bulkhead and altered the software to run comparing four clocks instead of three. The Captain didn't like Gremlins and was just about ready to run all six clocks they owned instead of three, but his navigator dissuaded him, saying that whatever was wrong was likely beyond their current understanding and no number of clocks was likely to fix it. He promised to yank the clock in the refurbished cabinet out of play and trash the entire assembly of hardware if it was off again. They'd keep it in storage and have somebody study it when they got home.

The new system was uninteresting, a single star with no worlds worth looking at closely. There were no unusual radar returns. The Sharp Claws did all their repairs under way and they jumped out together.

* * *

They transited six more systems, another uninteresting stretch that wore them down. Gordon had by this time gained trust in the off shift crews to the point they went ahead and recorded data and picked a target star and jumping out while the main shift crew slept. They racked up a lot of light years quickly, before they took another break. They could have done one more, but they were tending low on fuel and this system had a nice gas giant. There was no telling if the next one had such an easy fuel source and how deep the jump after would be.

* * *

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this new arrangement of having the alter-shift crew make transitions while we are sleeping," Thor told Gordon the second day of their break.

"Tell me why. Is there any particular person in the off-shift that worries you? Did somebody say something or do something that made you lose confidence?"

"No, I never got confident. You saved the transitions for the first crew until just recently. Why did you change that arrangement?"

"They seemed to be doing a good job and it seemed peevish to make them wait to start a jump run, or accelerate slower to time it so we'd take the bridge before jump. And it slows us down. It adds an extra day every fifteen days or so."

"They aren't as good a crew as ours. I mean, they'd be fine, more than good enough, for say taking a freighter into a known system. But would you have wanted them sitting the conn when we were at war exiting the Fargone system and ran head on into the USNA destroyer Phoenix? Would they have made a split second judgment to fire blind at the emergent point the fleet waiting in ambush for you would use? Would they even have understood there was a trap waiting for them behind the destroyer?

"I admit, I had my doubts. We did luck out on that one."

"No, that's my point, we didn't luck out. You read the situation perfectly and the entire crew all responded flawlessly in seconds, under fire and damaged, to take us to safety and defeat their fleet. The Fargoers on Murphy's Law told us they've all had the record of that battle played for them, synched with the real time system scan, so they would know just what they were dealing with to serve under us. They are universally awed to hear you ordering complicated spreads of fire and a low probability escape jump with a hole burned through our middecks, calm and unhesitating and then politely inform system control of changed jump plans, like you decided to take a ship load of socks to Bountiful instead of New Japan on a sudden whim. That's why the Fargone captains were nervous having you in close orbit. It wasn't the weapons load out on the ships. You scare the crap out of them!"

"I've always had a hard time accepting a compliment. But thanks for spelling it out again."

"I don't know that we'll meet anybody out here. And I certainly hope we don't cross runs with somebody who starts shooting at us immediately, like the Phoenix did. But if we do, I'd sure rather have you in that chair than anybody else, including myself. I don't think we should allow jumping into a virgin system to become routine. It's easy to do when we do one after another and nothing bad happens. But there is nothing routine about it. We may run into something none of us can deal with," Thor said with a shrug, "but let's not fail because we had the 'B' team up."

"You've convinced me. Now, can you tell me how to change back and not make the whole shift feel slighted and resentful, killing morale?"

"Blame it on me."

"OK," Gordon agreed grinning, "I will."

* * *

The rest period over, the new scheduling chief, Thor, posted the new rotation, switching a few people around and returning to reserving late run to jump and transition to the prime crew. There was a little bitching, just a few - "Oh gods no. Not him." muttered when Thor's name was on the header over the duty roster posting, surprising Gordon. "Why so few complaints?" he asked Thor.

"They like you," Thor explained. "Even knowing you are the absolute law between the stars and a master to be feared, they still think you will listen to a bunch of nonsense and try to keep everybody happy. Me, well, they don't like me, indeed they expect the worst. Yet I have not found that an impedance to command. At best they know I'll mock them if they complain, at worst I'm likely to put them on slop well and filter cleaning duty if they waste my time complaining."

"I wish I'd known this months ago," Gordon marveled. "I'd have sent all the pestering fools to you and saved untold hours. It doesn't faze you either, does it?"

"It's like throwing mud on a pig," Thor answered. "He doesn't know it's supposed to bother him."

Chapter 6

The star they visited next was huge. It had an odd spectra with lots of green. Filtered down to a level the eye could tolerate it wasn't a particularly pleasant color. Gordon wondered if it was just him. On inquiring the Hinth said it was a rotten egg and the Humans pronounced it ugly as sin.

There were outer planets, a couple gas planets if not real giants. The bonus was that there was another brown dwarf orbiting the big star and if there was such a thing as a good match for the bilious star it had to be this. One human likened it to the color of his mother-in-law's face when she started on a good rant. It was a sort of pinkish magenta, maybe.

If there had ever been any inner planets they were now moons of the dwarf, because it had some big ones, big enough to show some serious surface gravity. Three were big enough to hold some atmosphere. Ernie was both elated to find another brown dwarf system like the other they had staked a claim to and upset with himself that he couldn't think of any model for its formation. He seemed to be a bit depressed and chiding himself for thinking that as an Astrophysicist he was anything but an incompetent dilettante, a hobbyist and a delusional dabbler.

"Don't be too upset with yourself," Thor counseled him. "I've noticed that when something really new comes up like this, even the professionals usually advance three or four theories that aren't even close to right, before somebody comes along and actually figures it out."

"As compensation for your angst, you may name it if you wish," Gordon offered. He figured that was a safe gift, before Ernie figured out some way to ask a fourth share over it.

"I'm tempted to say 'Ugly', because of the colors, but even a mining system, which I'm convinced we'll find this is, should have a name that attracts business."

"Bountiful is taken," Thor pointed out. "Hideous has the same objection."

"Cornucopia!" Ernie said with sudden inspiration. Thor had to look it up on his hand com, trying not to be too obvious. He gave up however and just said, "Does one ever finish learning English?"

They checked a couple of the smaller moons before sending a lander down to one slightly bigger than Luna back in the Earth system. That was an unusually large moon in most stellar systems. There was more heavy metal to be had here than Gordon could imagine their civilization using for centuries. It was good it was so far away, the transport costs would keep the price of metals from crashing. He said as much to his bridge crew.

"You have a point there," Ha-bob-bob-brie mused. "However, I can see the population and production centers of our cultures shifting to around these sources of metal in a few centuries, assuming meanwhile we don't find an economical way to synthesize what we want anywhere."

Jon Burris, a usually quiet scan and com tech spoke up. "I'm not at all sure how, but I'd bet anything these brown dwarf systems are somehow related to supernovae. That's the only way we know for masses of metals heavier than iron to be produced. Now if they're at a certain distances, like in a band, or where the wave front ran up against a cloud of gas or something to slow it down and condense it, I don't know. But it wouldn't surprise me if they are strung along in a line or arch," he said, using his hands to illustrate the concept.

"Yes!" Ernie cried out in the strangest voice. He grabbed Jon and scared him, hugging him like a long lost brother and then holding him at arm's length. "I'll credit you! Yes I will!" he raved. "I have to go write this down," he said with manic glee, taking his leave of his Captain with less formality than was normal for even this casual crew.

"I do believe you broke his block," Gordon told Jon, amused.

"He looked crazed, I didn't know what he was going to do," Jon admitted, rattled.

"You just committed inspiration," Thor said. "Try not to do that more than once a duty shift."

"It seemed obvious," Jon said, shrugging. "I almost didn't say it out loud."

"Ah, one of those people," Thor said nodding, and gave Lee an accusing glance.

"I do believe we'll be here a few days to give it a proper survey. Alter the schedule for orbital watches instead of flight crews and let's send Murphy's Law and The Champion William off to poke around the outer system and make sure we don't miss anything," Gordon ordered.

The Marines found a rock about half as big as the Retribution, which appears to be one big nugget of ninety six percent platinum. It would be easy to cut off chunks.

"Since mining claims are all or nothing, with no individual claims for crew, might I suggest it would be a nice gesture and enhance morale, to offer 'samples' to crew as keepsakes?" Thor proposed.

"How much mass you want to load on my ship, that we have to carry all the way back home?"

"Five kilograms each wouldn't be enough to even measure any difference in ship's performance. But it might really enhance crew performance, if they cut them up maybe they will serve as poker chips. Some of the guys are going absolutely nuts, writing IOUs for thousands of Fargone Dollars each against anticipated pay outs."

"Make it a little on the plus side of four kilograms. No need to be exact. I need a paperweight anyway. The air vent shoots right at my desk," Gordon allowed.

* * *

"I suspect this is one of those discoveries, brown dwarfs being metal sources, that historians will write about and class the era before as being a time when the races struggled with scarcity of metals and the time after as a different time of expansion and plenty," Gordon predicted.

"There are still other important things which remain scarce," Thor was quick to point out. "I'd have been happier to find out that a certain sort of star tends to have living planets around them."

"We might find that yet, when we look at enough stars to see a pattern. We're going to have so much metal now they may build a lot more big habitats. If they can build them big enough you can put trees and open spaces in them and it'll be almost like being on a planet."

"We're going to have some pretty decent claims," Thor reminded Gordon. "We can afford to steer things and promote whatever sort of development or research we think is important. If you want habs with trees, build one, maybe for the miners around a brown dwarf."

"Yes, I think that sort of freedom is a bigger luxury than building a palace to live in," Gordon said.

"Palaces are over rated. I think you have to have been raised in poverty to want one. That's why it is such a human thing, because Derf so rarely feel they lived in poverty. It's really rare a tribe has incompetent Mothers to where their people feel insecure or in real need. If they do, then the men folk usually put the ax to them without much delay."

"You know the first time I went to Earth, looking to get a berth on an explorer, I went out to clubs with a few of the humans I'd met. I was a novelty and after a few beers these young guys would say whatever came to mind pretty easily. The first time one complained about some politician and said, "Somebody ought to shoot the son-of-a-bitch!" I was alarmed. I figured if that was the talk in the street there might be revolution tomorrow. If somebody said the Mothers should be put to the ax what would you say? Gordon asked.

"I'd probably say, your call, if you need to go ahead and do it," Thor admitted.

"Yes, there are some pretty big differences between us. It's taken me awhile to figure out a lot of them. Being partners with the Andersons helped. You don't just work with explorers, you live with them. And watching Lee grow up showed me a lot about what is taught and what is inherent."

"I think we're a lot alike, compared to the Bunnies." Lee offered.

"I worry about them now. I think they are a big problem waiting to happen," Gordon said.

* * *

Murphy's Law had a crewman develop appendicitis, which Gordon had to have explained to him. The ship's doctor could do minor surgery, but it wasn't his specialty. He had to supervise the ship's robotic surgeon for something major. While it worked, he kept the operating manual on one screen and a tutorial on that particular operation on another while he watched for any problems and prompted its progression. He couldn't pause and consult the manual much without stressing his patient.

"Did he come through OK?" Gordon asked the ship's captain, Henry.

"The patient? He's doing fine, but it may take the doc a week to recover. I almost ordered him sedated, but settled for ordering him to join me in a glass of my personal Fargone rum. I brought along a full case of Poison Pirate's Piss, top shelf stuff, so he has no complaint. I believe he felt a little out of his depth. He certainly looked rattled."

"Better humble and scared, than cocky and over confidence," Gordon said.

"Doc Ellis requested a full shift before we accelerate past a standard g," Henry requested.

"No problem, we're near shift change here and when I come back on I'll check with you and see if it is still safe for him to start the run to jump," Gordon promised. "No need for a full g even."

"Under military discipline we'd be expected to tank him and boost."

"Why? So you can all prove how tough you are? I'd boost if I had somebody hostile shooting my butt off and no choice. I'd kill him to save the ship if that was the choice but it isn't. Everybody will watch this and see how well we take care of our crewman," Gordon pointed out. "It's a morale issue."

"And they're all multi-billionaires at least!" Henry said grinning. "I wonder how many of them will reenlist when we get back home?"

"I think the bigger question is, How many of them will take their new wealth and buy a ship to go exploring on their own? Ship building might be something good to invest in when we return." It was the sort of sudden clear insight one got only rarely.

* * *

"Ensign Lee's compliments Sir, and he inquires if you'd care for this specimen of native metal from the assay team?" The rating offered a bare chunk from a bin basket containing more.

Those must be for the rest of the bridge crew he guessed. He took the little cube with a nod and looked it over. Five sides were bright metal. One face having some faint saw marks and an actual little dark void that went into the metal ten or fifteen millimeters. The sixth face was obviously from the outer face of the rock, dark grey and bumpy with coarse nodules. It reminded Gordon somewhat of the surface of a cauliflower. An Earth vegetable he had tried once, that once being entirely sufficient.

"I have others if that doesn't please you," the fellow offered after Gordon took some time examining it. "That's really one of the more interesting ones," he said, selling it. "The surface has some texture to it, some are almost flat and it has an interesting little void. There are only about a dozen with those."

"It's quite nice, thank you. I was just enjoying examining it, no criticism implied. Feel free to continue with your distribution." The young man looked like he had to restrain himself from saluting, which they didn't do, and satisfied himself with an "Aye, aye Sir!" He must be a Fargoer from Murphy's Law. The other bridge members received theirs with varying degrees of enthusiasm, only Thor asking the kid what sort of chunk he'd gotten.

"Sir, I chose a piece that has some sort of rocky inclusion. It has less platinum and a lower melt value, but it's a much more interesting mineral specimen!"

Thor looked at his cube, it appeared even smaller on his palm than that of the human who brought it. "I had it pictured a bit bigger. I don't think I've ever held platinum before. I visualized four kilogram as a nice little steak, because I didn't realize how dense it is." He tossed the chunk in the air and snatched it on the way down. A leisurely action at the half g they were boosting. "It's too big for an earring and too pointy for a pendant. I'm not sure what to do with it." He held it between thumb and finger. It was about the size Derf cut things up for finger food, about six centimeters on a side.

"I'm using mine as a paper weight," Gordon offered. "I'll keep it as a memento, but if you don't care to keep it I think what the rating said about it is a hint. It is probably worth more as a rare mineral specimen than as scrap platinum."

"What's it worth as platinum?" Thor asked, too lazy to look it up.

Gordon checked their web fraction. "It's weird. It sells in units of thirty one point one grams. Last quote we had when we left was about eight thousand Ceres Dollars a standard measure, on Ceres deliver, or eight hundred thousand USNA Dollars. If you don't want it I'll buy it from you at a ten percent premium. I think it would make a nice gift for the Mothers."

"Why don't you just tell them to cut a few for the Mothers, or to stuff in the safe as gifts if we meet somebody out here and have to make nice-nice with their diplomats? Rank has its privileges I'm told. It's not like you are ordering them up for yourself to snatch an extra share."

"Some of the human explorers have their contracts award graduated shares. The Captain and senior officers get much more than the crewmen," Gordon informed him, "even if they don't have an ownership interest by investing in the whole enterprise. It always seemed greedy to me. You're right, I can order up extra specimens as expedition assets. Thanks for the idea."

* * *

"Are we going to leave a claims satellite? Or did you decide it's too dangerous?" Captain Henry of Murphy's Law asked in conference before they departed the brown dwarf system.

"I still haven't decided," Gordon told them. Their faces showed keen interest. "Give me the gift of your thoughts," he invited. It always made people feel better to be asked, even if you pondered it and then didn't take their advice after all. But it was best to have a reason why and frame it as instruction.

"For whom would we be leaving a claims satellite?" Parsimony Cho asked. "For others of our races using the Claims System, or aliens?"

"Would aliens have any idea what a claims satellite meant" Chance Ochocinco asked. Nobody answered quickly, pondering that.

Fat Ortega answered in his usual slow manner, pausing between statements. "If I were in a strange land and came upon a fence, that tells me somebody feels they own or control the land inside the fence. But it might just be to keep cattle in or something. There are places you are welcome to cross the land or hunt, if you go in a gate and close it carefully behind you. However if you go up to a fence and there is a sign with language or symbols hung to be seen from outside the fence, it's different. Even if you can't read it you know you're being served some sort of notice. It may be, 'Danger, mean bull inside fence, enter at your own risk.' Or it might be 'Delicate habitat, subject to damage. Do not enter.' Or it might be 'Private property, use fee required. Pay at ranch house before entry.' At the very worst it may be, 'No trespassing. Violators will be shot on sight.' So you don't know what, but you know there is some message. Unless you are desperate, or of a huge ego, chances are you will stop and not chance it's something important even if you can't read it."

"OK, a satellite says somebody has been here and has enough of an interest to mark it. I'll go with that," Gordon decided. "We're not skulking around avoiding contact. If there are others out here we will try to talk to them. If we were worried about hostile aliens, or vastly superior aliens, we would have stayed home safe and hope they never found us."

"As Canny McDonald pointed out, three missiles and we could have owned the Bunnies' planet," Thor reminded them. "If we do meet somebody we have a history of restraint. Recognizing private ownership is something that all three of our cultures have as a moral imperative in different forms. We can hope anyone we meet has similar motivations since they seem common to sentient races. We can make the case we are not evil aliens to be feared."

"Thor, advise Mr. Ames and Mr. Goddard to place a claims marker. If all of you will consult my navigator, Brownie will give you our run to jump numbers, formation and target destination. You have a tenth day to secure and prepare for acceleration."

Bodacious Williams on Murphy's Law turned to his Captain after the conference closed. "Do you happen to know how Gordon's navigator Brownie came by his name? Most Derf pick an actual human name of someone they know or admire as their customary name dealing with humans. There are a lot of names of authors and discoverers. Although I met one Derf who went by Big Guy and one who I suspect copied Fargone taste in names and calls himself Gregarious. But Brownie? Does he like the little chocolate cakes?"

"He was the first Derf a fellow from Alaska on Earth met. It happens his coat is colored what they call cinnamon, just like a subspecies of Brown Bear that lives around this fellow's home. They happen to be about the same size too. He took one look at the Derf, jerked all over in shock, eyes wide as the story goes and declared quite loudly, It's a frigging Brownie! It stuck."

* * *

Another week saw them sixty light years further from home and ready for another break. If there was any further discussion of the reverted schedule change Thor hadn't mentioned it.

There were two small gas planets in the system and they divided to scoop fuel at each. The double star was hard to resolve. There was a lot of dust and gas down deep in the area of the stars. Gordon sent Sharp Claws off around the system, almost to the opposite side to do a radar scan and make sure they weren't overlooking a third star, especially a brown dwarf down in that mess. They also deployed their antennas and checked the next couple likely jump targets. They got exact bearings and distances and listened for artificial radiation.

When they came back Captain Frost came in really close before he called High Hopes in low power mode. "There is all kinds of chatter and video, radar and some signal that I'm not real sure what is making it, in two of the three stars closest along our line of travel."

"Wow. How would you compare them to the Bunnies?" Gordon asked

"No comparison. This is like listening to Sol from the Centauri system. I doubt we can sneak in and stop short and look them over undetected."

"How about sending the drone in?" Thor suggested.

"And let them watch it turn and come right back to us?" Lee asked.

"We could send the Retribution on a side stepping move to a nearby system and send the drone from there." Thor thought out loud.

"That removes the problem one step," Frost pointed out. "If something follows the drone back to them quickly that leaves them unable to rejoin us and vulnerable. I can't see risking the Retribution."

"The Roadrunner can't carry the drone..." Brownie mused.

"We need to stop and take time and map them," Gordon decided. "Rushing ahead was fine when nothing was that unusual. This is a big deal. We need to know what is around them. Maybe even what is behind them."

Everybody sat pondering it for a few minutes.

"Tell everybody in the fleet what's going on," Lee said. "We've gotten good ideas before and they deserve to know what's going on."

"Make it so," Gordon told his com officer.

"Let's build a map, like a cup around these stars," Frost said holding a true hand to illustrate. "It will take weeks, but we are only seven months out and planned on years if need be. This is big. We don't want to blow it. We can start with lateral explorations to systems with no chatter. I suspect we'll find systems with radio signals somewhere between here and the opposite side, likely on the active routes in and out of these two systems. I want to know both the jump routes in and out and the shape and direction of the civilization behind them."

"I can't imagine a point of the spear frontier with so much noise, unless they stop and consolidate to a ridiculous degree before pressing on. I predict there won't be just one entry and exit route away from us. That would be even more conservative an expansion than Earth and I thought we were slow!" Lee objected.

"Unless they have never found another race and figure they have all of time to take leisurely possession of the next system," Thor guessed.

"Or they are like the Bunnies, with iron fist and don't move ahead past what they have taken the time to not just colonize, but make sure it is in complete control and subjugation," Lee said.

"Brownie, consult with your colleagues on the other ships. Formulate a plan to do such an englobing map program, staying about two systems away from the occupied systems for a start. When we find another noisy system we'll go around it, building a 3D map until we can't go any further or reach the other side."

"How many ships can we send out at once and how many must stay together for safety?"

"The Sharp Claws and Murphy's Law can go out, as well as the Roadrunner. The DSEs are suited to exploring uninhabited systems, but I won't risk them unescorted into a potentially inhabited system. Use the speed of the Roadrunner to examine systems of which we are more confident we don't need a detailed survey, just a quick look, since they don't have much instrumentation. Can we have another antenna system fabricated for Murphy's Law? Ask engineering please, Frost."

"We can do that sort of mapping," Brownie agreed. "However once we have examined the stars to about two or three systems away and checked their neighbors for emissions, then it will slow us down considerably, to jockey back and forth along an arch around the target star and back here to report. Four jumps out and back, five jumps out and back. Pretty soon it is a week out and a week back to look at the next. It’s too hard on the crew even if we wanted to spend all the time in transit. We'll need to move our base of operations, either in a line, trying to work around them, or if you want as complete a picture as possible of the sphere around these people you'd have to a spiral search." He illustrated, spiraling a finger tip around a clenched fist. "That would take a very long time."

"I see your point," Gordon agreed. "I need a mug of coffee and to think on it a bit. They entered another silence so long Gordon was served his coffee.

"We have two systems with chatter," Lee said thinking out loud. A few looked at her. "One is louder than the other. Are they more or less side by side to us?"

"As near as matters," Brownie told her.

"Hard to say if one is more important because it is louder, or which direction from one to the other is the order explored. I think we should avoid a line drawn through the two searching about ninety degrees away from that line. I bet we get further, maybe even a bit past them from here that way. Then if we go in and pay a visit from the side we won't be drawing a line straight back to our homes," Lee said.

"That's a tentative plan, unless somebody thinks on it and improves it. Let's get the first phase done, start a disk, maybe with a slight cup to it and see if that changes the situation."

* * *

"It's ugly, but it will deploy in a half hour. It covers a minute of an arch, so you aren't going to pinpoint locations, but it has a heck of a lot of gain. And nothing on it you can't abandon if you don't have time to fold it up and secure it. If some aliens capture it they will probably wonder how somebody who built such a god’s awful piece of junk managed to get to the stars."

'Thank you, Mr Hillerman. Express our gratitude to Engineering for the speed. Perfection is indeed the enemy of good enough and we don't care how ugly it is."

"I had to remove one fellow from helping. I won't say anything negative about him. When we do something that needs perfection he's a wonder to behold. But he looked ready to break down and cry at the crudity of this."

"I assume you made sure it fits in Murphy's Law?"

"Alas, that would have been much more difficult. It grapples on the hull, on one of the few places we don't have covered yet with other junk," Hillerman said.

"Very well done," Gordon complimented them, "Send them out. Now we wait."

Waiting was hard. They had to keep a minimum weapons watch. There wasn't just a minimal orbital watch on the bridge, they needed enough of a crew to maneuver suddenly if one of their probes led something unpleasant back. The crews were limited in both repairs and recreation, because they were subject to a ten minute notice of acceleration. It was stressful.

Chapter 7

The Sharp Claws was back first. They explored three systems along a line approximately parallel to the line draw through the two systems of interest. The first from where the High Hopes waited seemed like a quiet system. Once inside they confirmed it was unused. They didn't do a radar sweep. If they decided to go home and not make contact, their use of radar so close would set a time limit on how long it would be before these people knew they had been sniffed around and mapped. They might still decide to quietly go away. The noisiest target system was still quite easy to detect from here.

The second system was similarly bare, the target system barely detectable from here.

The third system was noisy with natural radio from a turbulent gas giant. The inhabited target system was separated by forty degrees from a line looking back toward their base.

"Entry burst!" Their com tech called out. "Somebody entered the system from the direction of the star we are interested in. Call it eighteen hours ago. I'm seeing a strong drive signature, so they are vectoring away from us, back toward the way we would have gone on."

"Any chance they'll see us?" their Captain asked.

"None, they'll have left the system before our entry burst reaches them."

"Well that terminates exploring this leg," their navigator said. "If they use this system for transits we can't risk running into them to look at the one beyond. Even if we pick a different star slightly off their jump route, we could run into one at random just crossing here."

"Do you wish to stay and see the precise exit he takes?" the Captain asked.

"No need. It will be some hours and we know the general vector."

"Back we go then."

The report was very interesting to Gordon. He held the Sharp Claws to hear the report from Murphy's Law, before releasing them to go down another track. They used the wait to scoop fuel. You can never have tanks too full.

Murphy's Law found nothing in three systems. They now had two tracks opposite each other. The third system in each slightly forward of their track. The one an operational dead end. They sent them out again, opposite each other again, but rotated ninety degrees around the disk they were mapping."

Nothing for three systems out on either leg showed any signs of activity.

* * *

"Lee predicted we wouldn't get far along the line drawn through the occupied stars. That has proved true in one direction. It is inconclusive in the other. Shall we take the time to go further out the side showing no action? Or shall we move our base of operations along one of the two tracks opposite from each other, that show clean three systems out? Gordon asked.

"The later," Brownie recommended, "but how do we choose between them?" he asked.

"Fortunately, I have a device for automating this decision." Gordon pulled a Fargone Dollar piece out of his purse. "Heads we go down the leg the Sharp Claws took. Tails we rotate and start new legs." The bright disk spun in the air and was snatched by a true hand. He slapped it on the back of the other hand and kept it covered. "Will you witness what it is carefully, so nobody thinks I pulled any shenanigans?" Brownie got up and attended him closely. It was heads.

* * *

It was another five systems before they heard signals ahead. That put them along an arch almost even with the systems they were working around. So they were about ninety degrees around the globe they were outlining from the original system in which they'd heard the racket of civilization.

"Should we make an entry from this angle, or try to come in from behind them?" Thor asked.

"I admit we don't have enough data points to work from," Gordon told him. "But you said you admire my analysis of situations on minimal input. The image I get in my head is we are looking at a plane or maybe a little bit of a cone poking up at this system. Behind that star their civilization probably knows most of the stars and safe routes between them. If we come in from here, from the side you might say, it's believable. If we get around behind them and enter they may be wondering how the heck we got inside what they see as their territory. Does this make sense so far?"

"It does," Brownie agreed. "They might look at our entry point and say: "No way, they are trying to fake us out."

"Indeed. So I am disposed to come in from here. I'm just not happy that we only know one way out of here if it becomes our escape route. I'd like the Sharp Claws and Murphy's Law to explore a jump route out of here generally back toward home and away from this civilization's side of the sky. Once you are in that next system, explore two more jump routes from it before you come back. If we need to run from these people we'll have several different ways to go."

"Also, when you come back, fuel up before we go in, so we are all topped up." Thor said.

"And rested,” Gordon added. "I want every advantage we can get. So two days after the Sharp Claws and Murphy's Law get back, then we’ll go in."

"All of us together?" Captain Henry from Murphy's Law asked.

"Yes, this isn't a planet of Bunnies. Whatever is making that much noise is a space faring civilization. Not in just these two systems either. Since Sharp Claws saw that transition, we know they have star flight or are visited by someone who does. I want to go in looking like we are from a serious civilization, not somebody stretched to send out a single small ship and no reason to be too humble, if you take my meaning. There is going to be a lot of something on the other side. A living planet maybe, certainly traffic, local or interstellar, maybe mining and fuel operations. I want to look like somebody worth talking to and not someone to bully."

"Then let's pop in all together like you trained us and show a little style," Brownie suggested.

"Exactly," Gordon agreed, "and Roadrunner will ungrapple and stand ready to head home after transition."

"See you back here in a couple days," he told Captain Henry and Captain Frost, "We'll fuel and rest and in four to five days we see what we've found."

* * *

"Everybody secure? Base crews on missiles? Damage control suited up? Engineering no systems down? All your clocks agree Sharp Claws?"

The confirmations filtered back, the Sharp Claws navigator muttering, "All four."

"Slave to Brownie's marks, boost and jump. The others were rehearsals," Gordon told them.

* * *

"Record as many channels as you can," Gordon ordered. "We'll be able to translate them later, I hope." There was a lot of chatter.

"Luke, let me know as soon as you have the video format figured out. Brownie, there's too much traffic here to rush insystem. Bring us to a stop from moving further in. g and a half max, we don't want to look panicky. They may have some traffic rules we'll mess up if we proceed. Retribution, you have the most powerful radar. Take a good look around, not a single pulse and then shut it down."

Jon Burris on com spoke up. "Most of the radio traffic seems to be in system about thirty degrees to our right. When you point a telescope at that area there is a planet. I don't know yet if most of it is from the planet or from around it."

"What sort of modulation?" Gordon asked.

"I see at least some FM that looks to be audio, some very high density video and radars too."

"Champion William, tuck yourself behind the Retribution relative to that area with all the radio traffic and Sharp Claws get behind us. Put Roadrunner behind Murphy's Law too. If they don't have very good radar and paint us hard with high frequency stuff, they may not see how many ships we have. I'd be just as happy to keep them guessing until we see how friendly they are."

"Give me a high sign when I have a live mic, FM at moderate power, aimed at that area, but not too narrow a beam. I'll say a few words rather than wait for video. If they have anybody even moderately bright they'll say, 'Hey, that's speech, but it isn't any language we know.' And figure out we have no clue what to do. It buys us some time until we can do video."

Burris turned in his seat a bit to look at Gordon and made an elaborate pointing gesture to cue him.

"This is the deep space explorer High Hopes and escort vessels, Commander Gordon speaking. I know you don't understand a word I'm saying, but it should register as some alien language. You'll be looking back and translating this soon enough I'd wager. We'll transmit video as soon as we figure out how you like to view it. We'll wait to try to talk to you before we come closer. We have no idea of your traffic rules and don't want to create hazard. Now we'll sit and be patient awhile," he made a chopping motion to Burris.

"Send that twice more, with five minute pauses in-between."

It would be a bit over two hours until the wave front of their entry hit the planet. The number of signals that came back almost four hours later was overwhelming. All different power levels and some obviously narrowly aimed. It was certainly different than the Bunnies' initial silence.

"Make sure the recordings of this new chatter are time tagged and labeled to differentiate them from stuff we heard before they became aware of us. A lot of the current stuff has to be responses and more importantly, some might be instructions, some inquiries," Gordon guessed.

"Some of them might be, 'Docking at our space station? Visit Alpha, the best casino and restaurant in the system, mention this transmission for a free gaming chip! The finest cuisine and drinks for every species and palate!'" Lee predicted. '

"Heh, I hope so," Thor said grinning. We can give some of our rabid gamblers leave. I bet the house won't take IOU slips against their claim shares."

"It will take awhile for somebody to come out to us," Gordon said. "Or explain sufficiently on video how we should approach. Let's stand down to the alter-shift bridge crew, not a stripped orbital watch, but minimum crew to get under way quickly. Weapons watch can stand down all but one greaser crew and a missile tube slaved directly to the bridge board. No need to keep a loading crew standing there. Thor, I want either you or me in the duty bunk behind the bridge, with orders to rouse us if there are any big developments."

"I'll take it," Thor volunteered. "It's none too big and I fit better. Go to your cabin where you can stretch out and get some decent rest."

* * *

Gordon awoke feeling rested. He looked at the corner of his wall screen, the time showed in dimmed numbers in the corner. Two hours to shift change. It was amazing nobody found reason to wake him up. He stretched and scratched. Thor was right, his own bed was a luxury. Breakfast sounded like a good idea. He went in his shower stall, one of two private baths on the vessel, and set the head to maximum pulse. That would reach all the way through his fur to the skin and still have enough power to be invigorating. He smiled remembering the first time Lee had encountered a Derf shower. He'd heard the water start, a squeal, a thud and ran in to find her sitting to the back of the tub, butt bruised by the fall and a huge raw water jet abrasion on one shoulder. The next day it had been yellow with purple highlights and they'd had to keep ointment on it to fight infection and supply a slowly infusing pain reliever.

He slathered a conditioner on, otherwise his fur stood up all over with an effect that wasn't very pleasing. It reminded him of some show dogs he'd seen on Earth long ago. Blow dried and fluffed out. With a fancy bow added somewhere too. Not his style at all.

He entered the Ward Room / conference room / reading room / and at least temporarily the translation room, as Luke and his assistants were set up against the back bulkhead again. They didn't know where else to put them. They pulled the end section of table toward the wall so they could be gotten around easily. Gordon sat to the other end. He'd tried sitting right across the gap at the end of the near table before, so he could listen to their chatter, but they'd clammed up, started speaking by text between screens and looked worried. He figured his continued proximity would damage operations and stress them. They didn't seem to notice if his big triangular ears scanned them like a radar horn from the far end of the table. He had very good hearing.

The second cook was the steward too, their crew was so limited. He took Gordon's order and vanished. He'd probably have to help cook it. He poured coffee for Gordon without asking, but he'd refill it himself. There was only so much two guys could do. There were already two of his shift eating.

Thor stumbled in, poured his own coffee and sat opposite Gordon, stretching one shoulder and then the other, working his neck. He'd volunteered for the duty bunk, so Gordon was careful not to say anything humorous that might not be well received. He really was appreciative. He might even take it tonight.

The ward room was Thor's traditional duty to regulate, though most big ships had three times the staff. He looked to the door squinty eyed, like he was ready for the steward.

"He just took my order. I think he may have to start it cooking too. The other cook is probably cleaning up from off shift supper and trying to get lunch started too."

"Yeah, deep space explorers aren't supposed to have double shifts, weapons techs and other extras. The idea was to have short crews, not extra. It's a good thing they are built to go out long with lots of storage."

"On the plus side if anybody gets shot up and has to abandon ship it will probably be us, being slower and not as well armed. Then we can move over to a nice roomy war ship."

"I love how you can always find the bright side of anything," Thor said. He didn't look sincere.

"We have a video standard now," Thor informed him. The images are very interesting. I'd like to do a new transmission to send to them using it. We are getting some very good tutorials sent to us. Far better than what we could do with the Bunnies. Our old video would look fumbling and amateur."

"I'm surprised you didn't wake me up to tell me."

"Why? Would you have stumbled out half awake and sent off a reply? Bad enough they woke me up to little purpose. I wouldn't want you in a group reply before you were fed and caffeinated. You'd probably smile at them and when you do that before breakfast it sends entirely the wrong message. It looks more like, 'Feed me your young' than it does, 'Hello new friends'. Unless you want to scare the crap out of them before they ever get to meet you."

"You..." He hesitated and swallowed the first word he thought of. "Exaggerate," he said instead.

"A couple of them look like they might be herbivores or omnivores," Thor revealed. "I'm not sure but what they might bolt in your presence even without showing any teeth."

"It's amazing Humans have the same smile reflex, isn't it?"

"Indeed, at a glance you'd mistake them for prey." He wouldn't have said that but Lee wasn't on the bridge yet. "When we finish breakfast I'll show you what we've found."

* * *

Gordon watched some of the video tutorials. They had avatars of their races that moved smoothly and looked detailed enough to do complex actions. They saw facial expressions, but didn't know what they meant. There was also plenty of live video of real people to compare.

"These folks have met others recently. They wouldn't have such slick contact methods if they'd all known each other for ages and hadn't used these tools lately," Gordon decided.

"Absolutely and the basic word lists are very well thought out and in a very good sequence to build on the previous words. We are building a response to the word lists, but waiting for you to transmit video before we respond to the pictorial lessons. Once we are feeding them those we'll dump the word lists on them at the same time," Thor said.

"Let's get set up and do it then. Do you want to use the same people?"

"Yes, but I got the Hinth group to agree to have their image sent as long as they can put their masks on while dealing with unrelated strangers. Ha-bob-bob-brie will let us send his image bare faced, so they will know what the Hinth look like beneath them. I'm sure they'll see the masks as a peculiar cultural affectation."

"Can we make it happen in an hour?"

"I'll page everyone to come," Thor told him. "The video of the Hinth is already done. Alex said he thought he should do it with just shorts on to let them see Human structure better. "

"Makes sense to me. Once you have everything set in motion, come back here and explain to me what I'm looking at, please," Gordon said.

* * *

"That's a sweet production," Gordon said of the video when done, pleased. "It’s nothing to be embarrassed about like we're fumbling around and haven't done this before. Do you know by any chance... Did the Hinth change something on their masks?"

"You are observant. They added that little black symbol. It's like a chevron with a revered one overlaid. Sort of an X with a box in the middle," Thor said, drawing it with a finger.

"What's that mean?"

"They invented it. It means the same as the black brassards and ribbons the crews started wearing. Showing they belong to the Little Fleet. When they get home there's a registry for mask symbols. The shape they will register as showing service on starships as crew. But the solid black is reserved to service with this group," Thor said.

What Lee had noticed wasn't any new markings on the masks. She'd seen the three Hinth stayed away from Ha-bob-bob-brie when they'd been called to stand in a group. They'd managed to keep Thor and Lee between them and ignored Ha-bob-bob-brie like he wasn't there. It irritated her. She was sure they'd be happy to see other Hinth, but apparently not. She wanted to say something, but Gordon wasn't stupid, and Ha-bob-bob-brie himself hadn't complained, so how could she? Maybe they'd think it wasn't any of her business. Instead what she said was, "Now that they aren't under the Earth Human's thumb it's going to be interesting to see what the Hinth can do, isn't it?"

"It is. The purser on the Retribution told me one of his juniors was sewing a name tag on his jacket by hand and one of the Hinth said he couldn't stand to watch him anymore and took it away. He had it sewn on flat and neat in about as much time as the clerk took to thread the needle. So I suspect they may excel in anything requiring very good dexterity." Thor said.

"Maintenance already figured that out. You should see one shoot," Lee told him. "They shoot like a robot. So fast it's scary. I wouldn't shoot skeet with one for money if he had to use a rifle."

"They'd probably make good shuttle pilots then," Gordon decided. "If things go bad and you have to fly one manually those are the sort of reactions you need."

"I'll ask Ha-bob-bob-brie if he can handle Human controls or what we'd have to do to accommodate them," Lee volunteered. "It's not like I have a whole lot of duties right now." She scrunched her nose up in thought. "I'll ask him if the Hinth would want to be shuttle pilots before I assume too much. He has other duties right now but I suspect we are wasting his talents in maintenance."

"Even if they are flightless now, what do you want to bet they have a brain suited to three dimensional thinking?" Thor predicted.

"He's a surface explorer," Gordon remembered. "For all I know he was qualified on Hinth shuttles. I'm at fault really because I never asked him to sit and write out all the skills that includes for Hinth. I'm afraid we just did a verbal interview. I was so intent on getting Hinth for crew so I could demonstrate we can work together I wasn't as thorough as I might have been for Derf or Humans."

"Dear gods, whatever you do, don't tell Ha-bob-bob-brie he is a token Hinth," Lee said.

* * *

"Impressive isn't it?" Luke asked of the return video they were getting.

"Yeah, they're slick. They just keep sending new stuff and not repeating. Even though I just gave them the one short audio transmission? They must assume we are not stupid. That's good." Gordon said.

"Yes, after we send our images and we dump all the replies to their tutorials back to them, it will be interesting to see how fast they sort it all out and incorporate it."

"Yeah, especially how fast they switch to using avatars of our races, as well as theirs."

"This race," Luke showed the avatar and then a still pix cut from video, "we've taken to calling Sasquatch. That's a possibly mythological creature in Earth history. They fit the description because they are man-like, but just a bit larger and hairy. The head is unusually round and note the ears are small and the eyes large. We are not assuming that means they have good vision and poor hearing, it's just a matter of appearance. We have yet to see their teeth to try to guess if they are omnivores."

"Four fingers and a thumb like Humans," Gordon noticed.

"They are seen in a lot of video behind consoles or doing things that look administrative. We saw some footage that we think is inside the space station, because they cut away to an exterior view and back inside. We know it's this station because the planet in the background is recognizable."

"What is the inside like?" Gordon asked.

"It isn't curved and it doesn't rotate. So we have concluded they must have some form of gravity manipulation." Luke said.

"Oh-ho! Well we know what we'll be trying to trade for don't we? We're still pretty far out. Do you already have images of the planet that good, to know it's the one by the station?" Gordon asked.

"Yes, because the polar ice cap is very distinctive. It is tilted towards us a bit and as it rotates there is a big arch of ice that extends down into lower latitudes from the round portion."

"What would cause that?" Gordon wondered.

"Consensus is there must be a huge mountain range or plateau high enough to be cold," Luke said.

"That has to do some weird things to the climate in that hemisphere. Well, we know it's a water world at least, even if somebody else claimed it first. I’d bet heavily it’s a living world," Gordon said.

"These fellows with the pointy nose or muzzle maybe, some of the guys wanted to call Rats. I put a stop to that very quickly and insisted we call them Badgers. We're probably going to mingle with these folks and trade with them. They appear to have a slight majority in the videos. I can just see their future reaction when they realize what a rat is and how our cultures regards them. Besides, they have a stripe or sometimes several and are black not grey and we have yet to see one from the rear. I'd bet if they have a tail it isn't naked."

"What was anybody thinking, to open their mouth and let that fall out?" Gordon did a double face palm, shaking his head. He got over it and lifted his head. "We tried to recruit very carefully and we still get stuff like this."

"I know. I'm also just about convinced somebody took one of our recruiting posters to a Gamblers Anonymous meeting. But in fairness, how many have seen a badger?" Luke asked. "I have because my dad used to take me to the zoo. But unfortunately just about everybody has seen a rat."

"Yeah, those are one gift from Earth we could have done without. My Mothers give any kid who brings in a dead rat a tenth bit coin and he gets to pick the desserts for the next day."

"The Badgers show up in some of the same places as the Sasquatch, sitting behind consoles, looking like the supervisor in some scenes. I find their gaze very direct, but that might just be me."

"Look at this one," Gordon pointed out a figure in the distance. "They do have a bit of a tail. It looks pretty solid too, not skinny. And this one has a sort of a tool belt. He looks like maybe a techie."

"I bet they can go down on all four to move faster too. I haven't seen that yet, just guessing from their form. From the bottom, or back, leg in particular. They have incisors too."

"What do you call these?" Gordon asked of the next field.

"Well the Humans wanted to call one a Platypus. There's an Australian animal that has a bill like that. The body is completely different. But the discussion devolved into such a heated argument about what the proper plural form is that I nixed that name too. We're going to refer to them as Bills if I have to break some folks of rank and put them on filter duty." Luke threatened.

"Ah, have you been talking to Thor?"

"Not about the Bills, does he have some opinion about this race already?" Luke asked confused.

"No, nothing about the Bills. It's just he'd approve of your administrative style."

"Sometimes you need to knock some heads together," Luke agreed with a shrug.

"Do they have fur or is that skin?" Gordon asked, squinting at the monitor.

"We're not sure. If it fur it's very fine and dense. It might be dark skin. There aren't as many of these guys as the other races. We see them sitting and watching a lot, not doing stuff like the Badgers. They do wear clothing more, so maybe it is skin. They seem to carry more things that might be com or cameras. And they almost all have some kind of weapons. If they have a knife they always have two."

"Well when you have eight limbs... It looks like they have manipulative digits on all of them too." Gordon said.

"Yeah, here let me show you video of one walking."

"Wow. I bet they can really move when they want to. Why do I have this perverse desire to see what one looks like trying to walk drunk with eight legs?"

"Because you've been close to Thor too long," Luke answered without hesitation. "The race we saw the least in the videos is this one," he displayed a still of two of the creatures. "That is the only pic of them except in the extreme distance in a few crowd scenes."

"Ah, that should make the Humans happy. They've always wanted a cat race. It's a staple in their speculative fiction."

"There's a superficial resemblance, but there's no telling how they act of course. I'm Human, but I'm not a cat person myself."

"Do you like dogs then?"

"It isn't an either – or thing. I was raised without pets. We lived in a twenty seventh floor condo in the city. I've seen people all my life who can't go on vacation because their dog goes nuts in the kennel and won't eat. Vacation? I've worked with people who can't even go to dinner after work, because they have to go home and give their cat its medicine. I think a lot of pets are just unhealthy substitutes for children. If you are a farmer and have to get up early every morning for the cows at least you get the benefit of some milk."

"I have to admit Derf have no custom of keeping animals as a recreational thing. Have you seen any indication on the videos any of our new races here keep pets?"

Brownie interrupted from her console, sounding irritated."It's species really, not races. Races are a variations in a species like blond or cinnamon Derf or short lemon crested or long red crested Hinth or black or white Humans."

"I'm sure that's technically true if you are a biologist," Luke agreed."I'm not writing any scholarly papers, and I'm not going to bang my head against the bulkhead trying to change the common usage of our crews when everybody understands what they mean. They are lazy and will use a one syllable word over a two syllable word every time even if it is wrong. And no, I haven't seen any animals at all," Luke said going back to Thor's question. "I wouldn't have thought to look for them though. Come to think of it I haven't seen any indication they keep livestock either."

"What do you want to bet they are censoring that, until they know what we look like? Just like you didn't want to hang the rat label on the Badgers, they probably don't want to upset or confuse us by showing any animals that look like us." Gordon said.

"We may shock them a little when they see they are dealing with three new races, not one. It looks like they are feeding us instructions for one language. I wonder if it's like English? Perhaps the race it's native to is the dominant one," Luke speculated. "Ah, we're ready to shoot video."

Chapter 8

 The video was sent, labels over each person lit up when they said their name and touched their chest. A bright box formed around each group as they declared themselves Hinth, Human, or Derf and the word for that race lit up. At the end a box formed around all of them and they were all declared people, which they said in turn. Gordon and Luke agreed it would be hard to make it any plainer. And then they waited for the aliens to digest that.

"I'd like to send some video of scenes from Earth, Derfhome and Hin," Luke requested.

"OK, but have several people look at each segment before you send it with an eye to potential problems."

"Would you have time to look at them yourself?"

"No, but I'll make time. This is probably more important than reviewing things my department heads are routinely handling fine. Put in a few shots of our home worlds without people, you know, like a resort ad with some impressive waterfalls and snow capped mountains. A big flock of water birds. Maybe a shot of a coral reef full of fish and a rugged coast with lots of surf breaking."

"Are we fishing for tourists?" Luke asked, amused.

"Why not? They may not be interested in buying toasters or beer mugs from us, but even the Hinth went nuts playing tourist after the war and they were free to travel. I bet they like to see new places and relax away from what they are accustomed to every day. If they didn't like to travel we wouldn't be seeing ships and a space station, they'd have stayed at home like the Elves and the Beavers."

"Which brings up that question. Should we show them pix of the aboriginal races?"

"I can't see any advantage to it yet. Why don't you hold off on that? It would just waste our time explaining they chose not to have much to do with us. I'll get back to you when we start getting some response to our pix."

* * *

"Gordon, about five minutes after our wave front hit the planet and station they started sending out video incorporating avatars of our three races. I consider that pretty snappy. The next interesting thing is that they clearly showed trade taking place between their races and linked it to the language they've been sending. In fact I'd label the language itself as Trade. I think it is a composite, maybe a pidgin or a creole. We've dumped a lot of language back to them. We'll see how quickly they can use English."

"Luke, Ernie Goddard said he asked for early copies of the natives tutorials with their avatars working out words and was told you weren't authorized to release them. We value ideas from crew. Even people who aren't specialists can have insights from their experience, not formal education. Go ahead and allow access to anyone who has an interest."

"If I do that we'll be flooded under with every cook's helper and filter changer who has an insight. We'll be answering them instead of making progress."

"You don't have to answer any of them. I said make the files available, not set up a hot line and give every one of them consideration. If past experience with the Bunnies was any example few spoke up and the ones who had serious ideas were persistent and they contacted me, not the translation team."

"Fine, I'll send an all hands com message, saying where the files are available but indicating we will actually respond to very few com messages due to the work load."

"That works just fine," Gordon agreed. Privately he thought Luke was a budding bureaucrat and would eventually alienate the crew if he revealed his disdain for the people who fed him and kept him breathing. But he was getting the job done and hadn't pushed things to the point Gordon would remove him, yet.

* * *

Gordon spent a shift doing boring administrative tasks before Luke bothered him again. "They went to a lot of trouble to confirm what our measurements of length are. They checked what a meter is three ways before they were happy."

"Did they then share with us their common unit of length?"

"Yes and time units, mass and energy equivalence, also color perception for each of their races. I wasn't even sure we had that data for us. But it was in files. I never gave it any thought before, dealing with Hinth or Derf."

"I'm sure the designers of our screens and the signs and labels on everything gave it a great deal of consideration. It would be a huge safety issue if something that was an important flashing alert wasn't a bright contrasting color to somebody who needed to see it."

"I never thought of that. We need to do audio ranges too then."

"Good idea. And while you are at it, find out what they use for money and the denominations."

* * *

Thor came in near shift end, grumpy looking. "This sitting having nothing to do is bad. I'm dealing with petty arguments and personality clashes that wouldn't happen if they were busy. They don't have trouble when they are busy working, it's when they have free time."

"Doesn't all the video and information streaming in from the new people entertain them?"

"The ones it entertains, who got caught up in it, are the same ones who could already entertain themselves off duty. They’re the ones who brought more books and music than they could read in twenty years, or like one fellow who has been composing music and laying down overlapping tracks as complex as any symphony orchestra. I have another lady who has already written two novels in her off hours and is well into a third." He paused and looked at Gordon. "It's good stuff too."

"You mean sitting here with a front row seat on history being made is of no special interest?"

Thor nodded, "I know, hard to believe, but it's true. Some of them are like, "Yeah that's great, don't bother me with the details, I have a poker game to get to." They will be interested if they can make money off them, or we ask they go shoot them dead. I mean, I know we already have multiple races and are sort of used to each other, but we don't know so many races it's become common to meet new ones. Where is the sense of wonder?"

"I guess people can get acclimated to anything," Gordon allowed. "I don't suppose you can create some make-work to keep them busy?"

"I have, but we selected too well. These people are smart and if it is too obviously make-work they see it as punishment and resent it."

"Well, let's hope we can progress to moving forward and either orbiting the planet, or maybe even visiting the space station."

"All of us?"

"No, one of the armed ships will remain here with the Roadrunner. No matter how friendly they appear I'm not going to be that trusting until we have known each other awhile."

* * *

"They've asked permission to send an unmanned drone and look closer at us," Luke said.

"Brownie, How close do we need to get a drone to see details of the station?" Gordon asked.

"Details like being able to see ships docked to their station, or like being able to tell which race is outside in pressure suits?"

"I'd like to snoop on what code they punch in a keypad to enter an airlock."

"That's not going to happen with any optics we brought or can make. Nobody saw any need for that kind of capability. You'd have to get our best telescope within a dozen kilometers to do that. I'm not even sure we could yank it out of the Retribution and mount it on a drone. I'd rather ask how far away would you want to be from one of our newer X-head missiles? How far away could one put multiple beams on all of us at once, if they used it to sneak a weapon close?"

"Hmm, you have a point there. With us sitting still and the drone coming effectively at rest to us, I'd hate to be closer than fifteen thousand kilometers from it. But if we tell them a number like that we're basically telling them what our own effective weapons range is."

"Wouldn't a greaser reach out further?" Brownie asked.

"Yes, it would probably kill that target at fifty thousand kilometers and it's a speed of light weapon too. But you have to use a longer pulse duration than an X-head generates and then it takes significant time to physically point it at the next target and pulse it again. You can't engage multiple targets simultaneously."

"Let's double it, thirty thousand kilometers and ask them for permission to do the same. Let them think we are uncomfortable at lesser range. It can't hurt to have a little extra respect. Ask them where we can park a drone at that distance, looking at their station and planet. What will we be able to see from thirty thousand kilometers?"

"Something about the size of a ground car, with image processing, which doesn't run real time, but figure about a thirty second delay. Good enough for tactical decisions at this range I'd think."

"Perhaps we should send the Roadrunner back so they see it leave and as you pointed out before, they'll know the cat is out of the bag as far as their existence being reported," Thor said.

"That's tempting," Gordon admitted. "It would be insurance. The down side is then if we want to send further word we probably would send the Sharp Claws, which really diminishes our capacity."

"I've a question," Brownie asked.

"Why so formal all of a sudden? Did you get all offended about the species thing? Ask away."

"Could you program that jump drone you made for exploring solitary brown dwarfs to jump into the system we just came from?"

"Easily, but what would you have it do there?"

"Program it to sit quietly and wait for a recall or come back after some period of time. Once it left, these folks have no way of knowing its range or capacity. It would serve the same purpose as the Roadrunner of making them uncertain if word of our discovery has been sent home. Also, it has been bothering me how long we are sitting here chatting with these people. I may be a bit paranoid, but if they wanted to they've had sufficient time to send forces around behind us and have an ambush waiting for us if we suddenly don't like how things are going and decide to go home. The drone could be programmed to come back and warn us if there is activity in that system."

"Brownie, perhaps you should be fleet commander," Gordon said.

"My pardon, Sir. I really meant no disrespect to your command."

"No, no. I'm not being sarcastic. I missed an obvious danger and feel terrible about it. When you described that maneuver I could picture it and my gut just about turned inside out."

"It is a very smart drone," Thor reminded him. "It should be very easy to program it to come to a rest with respect to the system and drift conserving power, listening but using no radar and come back to us with a report if it observes ships entering the system."

"Those are all excellent ideas. Get it programmed as soon as possible, and Thor?"

"Yes?"

"See if engineering can do something simple to increase its radar cross section, make it look large enough they may wonder if it could be crewed. And have it leave the system at high acceleration for a crewed vessel, ten or twelve gs. Might as well let them wonder what our performance envelope is too. Let me know when it's ready."

"Gordon, I'm looking at the images of their station. It's a plain big flat plate, about forty meters thick. What do you make of that?" Thor asked.

"I'd say they have some sort of artificial gravity. Not based on acceleration like ours."

"Forty meters thick? You think maybe it's a double layer?"

Gordon thought about it a bit. "Maybe. It could be two layers and whatever they use to attract in the middle. Two levels but down is to the center from each side."

"Never thought of that," Thor admitted. "But if they have artificial gravity why don't we see any ships at huge acceleration levels? We see traffic, but it doesn't look all that much different than around any of our worlds. If I had artificial gravity I'd use it to nullify perceived acceleration and boost at five or six g while staying comfortable. Drives are more efficient at high g too."

"I don't know. Maybe they just aren't in a hurry?" Gordon guessed. "We'll have to ask."

* * *

"They are saying if we provide dimensions and the grapple points or locking mechanism they will produce a docking point so one of our ships can come visit their station," Luke told Gordon sitting to coffee and a snack.

"Now you know why they were so fussy about measurements of length. I tell you what. Inform them we'd rather make our docking collar conform to their station standard. I'll have engineering make up an adaptor and we can still have any ship dock just by switching the adaptor. It should be a half hour fab job unless somebody insists on making it way over complicated."

"I think I can say that. I'll get engineering to provide me some drawings to explain the concept. Has their drone been behaving itself? It hasn't made any offensive emissions or tried to drift closer?"

"Not at all. It has an optical aperture almost three meters across. It shouldn't need to get any closer to see me waving out the forward port at it. They were polite enough to ease it into place too. They didn't rush it into place and brake it violently to see if we would react. I made sure ours didn't look like a missile launch either. We are fortunate we have an instrument maker aboard who understands how to make a multiple aperture telescope that is likely much better than the single instrument the natives put in place. It has three telescopes of the eight tenths of a meter diameter we can fab, all twenty meters from a common center. I had no idea we could do that." Gordon frowned. "Are they saying anything that made you worry they might misbehave?"

"Nothing specific. There was a new ship that came in and docked at the station. I'm sure you've been looking at the images. The shape is different than any of the others and it's half again as big as the biggest other ship docked there. It isn't so much they have changed what they are doing, as far as their methods. But I have the sense the information has gotten more..." He stopped and hunted for a word. "Trivial. Less important and they seem to be asking more follow up questions, like they are not as sure of themselves."

"Since the new ship came in?"

"Yes. You've seen the ship in our files?"

"Yeah. We noticed it was different. It doesn't seem to be bristling with weapons or have a bunch of small vessels attached. We have more shuttles grappled on ourselves actually. I hadn't thought before but that might worry them."

"I don't know enough yet to have an opinion," Luke said. "But did you see the approach and docking this new fellow did?"

"No, just an image of it at dock."

"Humor me then, watch this. First here's one of the other ships that came in system since we have had our surveillance in place. It's almost exactly like two others already docked to the station. This is the in system maneuvering. About eleven hours of it compressed to five minutes."

Gordon watched patiently, he wished Luke would get to the point though.

"At the end, approaching the station." It slowed to under a hundred meters a second well away from the station. As it drew closer it kept slowing and near the end few tens of meters dropped to well under a meter a second."

"Looks like normal cautious piloting to me," Gordon told him. "Hot dog and you damage stuff."

"Watch the new ship," Luke asked. "Same time compression factor."

It took less than two minutes to cover a similar distance. The approach was hair raising. Gordon found himself clenching the armrests. They were still closing at three hundred meters per second twice that distance from the station. Then, finally, they braked hard and at a constant rate until they docked on the station collar like a bird landing a fence post. If it stopped at all short of kissing the collar it had to be within centimeters. Far closer than they could see, even with their surprisingly good telescope.

"That pilot is insane. If something goes wrong that close you can end up with your nose buried half way to the station center. Did you pick up any extra chatter when this happened? Like maybe their control was chewing this fellow out?"

"Not a peep."

"I have a suspicion," Gordon said. "Ask our friends if the new fellow who docked is another race. And if we could have some video of them."

"You think?" Luke asked, surprised.

"Me too," Thor told him. "It makes sense. I'll bet you a thousand bucks Ceres they are new."

"Not me," Luke said. "I'm not a gambler."

* * *

"The aliens we already know on the station acknowledged that the new ship that came in is another race. However, they declined to show us video of them. We don't have sufficient experience or vocabulary yet to convey subtle things, but I got the sense they were apologetic. The Badger talking to us was wringing his hands just like my Italian grandmother used to when she was upset. When they said they couldn't show us this race, I'd have given at least one possible translation as, 'It isn't our place,' if you take it literally."

"They're scared of them," Thor said. He seemed quite certain. "Gordon, engineering reports the drone is operational and they have a skirt that gives it a radar cross section about half the Roadrunner's"

"Hold it ready to launch. Let's see where we are going with these new aliens first."

"Being scared is likely," Luke said. "That leads directly to a problem. The Badgers just said the newcomers indicated they do not want our drone sitting watching them. They said we should remove it in the next hundred thousand seconds or they will remove it for us. I think it's important the Badgers are who speaks to us when there is any conflict. It would indicate some sort of social rank with these new ones."

"Tell your Badgers that if the race that recently came in has any demands, they can address them to us directly," Gordon told him, "not through client races. See how both of them like that characterization and inform them if they want our drone removed fine, but theirs gets removed too."

"Are you sure you want to get that in-your-face?" Luke asked.

"Given the others reaction, what we have here is a bully race. Now if they really have superior arms or just a whole lot of attitude is the real question. But even if they can whip us, we'll never have any respect out of them if we just cower from them like the folks here who already know them. If they reply send the transmission to me or Thor. We'll speak with them directly as equals. They have all your translation work from the Badgers, no reason they can't speak to us without any lengthy delay."

"Yep, put them on our bridge screen if they call," Thor agreed.

"All right," Luke agreed. But he didn't look happy about it.

"Thor, make sure bridge crews on all ships are aware we may call on their weapons boards to direct peashooter or greaser fire. They may even be asked to fire missiles before the missile crews are at their stations to reload. The missile crews in all ships should be in a heightened state of alert. Not at their stations and nothing that will wear them down to maintain, but ready to drop what they are doing without changing clothing or needing time to secure things," Gordon ordered. "If anyone is involved in maintenance with something torn apart, proceed finish it and close it up. Don't initiate new projects. The galley should shut down hot meals and go to sandwiches and cold stuff."

"I'm on it."

"I wanted a break, but I'm joining you on the bridge until we see how they react," Gordon said.

When he got there Lee was already strapped in at an open console.

* * *

Luke came up to the bridge to report, neither Gordon nor Thor wanted to go back to the Ward Room to debrief him, but they wanted a face to face.

"I just finished transmitting to the station before I came up. We had to go over a lot of words. I feel they called into question words we had already agreed upon their meaning as a delaying tactic, because they really didn't want to present your reply to these new folk. With new terms it was even worse. I'm at a loss for a name for them even. They gave me a word but kept evading its meaning."

"Did you pin down a clear translation of client?" Thor asked.

"Yes and I defined a lot of actions that fit that word and they would say, 'Well yes, we do that with them, but that doesn't mean we are client races.' They won't accept the label. They wouldn't give us their word for it either, reluctant to admit such a label exists."

"So, they are in serious denial," Gordon said, nodding.

"Unless you believe they are genuinely insane, yes," Luke agreed.

"Your men are calling you from the Ward Room," Thor told Luke. "Take it on my screen here and let's see what's so urgent."

"The main Badger you've been talking with insists he speak directly to you, Luke. I'll connect him now."

"This is Luke. I'm with our Commander Gordon and his second officer Thor. What did you want to tell us?"

"We sending your message to (new race) and more now (most recent?) software. We work long (make?) best we know. Before I touch screen (to?) (send?) I say (tell?) you one thing. (New race) have weapons," he touched the knife and some sort of pistol he wore, "not same these. They have ship weapons. They are fight ship to ship." The screen showed stylized ships and dots going from one to the other from both so they both turned into dots and dissipated. "They fight among they (selves?). One their ship dock here. Other their ship dock here. They not come out ship same time, no fight on station. You understand? You now (still?) want me to send message I do. Just know you (make?) not good (unhappy?)."

"You don't (make?) ship weapons?" Thor asked.

"No, (new race) (make?) them. Ship (is?) lot people time (man-hours?). More (too?) (valuable?). We not (risk?)."

"How you (make?) (new race) not take ship?"

"They try. We lot (many?) more. They take we no trade (sell?) things they (want?) wait (until?) they give back. Next time cost lot more."

"They no go your planet. Take what they want?"

"Planet different. Lots weapons planet lots fight lots people on planet. Not like ship. They no take.

"(New race) things not same (different?) Badger things. No (make?) Badger no make (new race) no take. Badger, other people not (unknown) same (new race)." He stopped and his muzzle rippled. A new thing they hadn't seen.

"What the hell does that mean?" Thor asked the bridge crew. "Anger, disgust?"

"Frustration?" Lee guessed.

"Why you no make weapons for ship now? Same you got your planet?" Gordon asked.

"Not simple. Not enough got one weapon now. More later. Got be better (Other race) weapon, first time, second time, all time. Not do little now. Little later. Until works."

"Why not?" Thor asked.

"Got word see thing in hand," the Badger said, looking at his empty hand. (Want?) (need?) word see thing in head," he said, grabbing his head in both hands and closing his eyes.

"Visualize, imagine, picture," Lee supplied.

"What is all in head?" the Badger asked.

"Think," Gordon supplied quickly. "See in head. No thing in hand."

"Lot in head," the Badger explained. "See in head. Lot, lot more."

"All think," Gordon assured him. "Think word all things in head."

"What (need?) word – thing in hand," he said, peering in his hand again. "No see same in head."

"Delusional, nuts, crazy, insane," Gordon supplied.

"Lot words," the Badger observed. "All same thing?"

"Lot crazy in heads," Gordon admitted.

"You say think all things in head. (Other race) not think all same other people."

"He's trying to tell us the new guys are friggin' nuts," Thor said.

"Sure looks that way.

"(New race)" He struggled silently the muzzle rippling again. Then he put a finger to the side of his head and made a stirring motion.

The bridge crew erupted in laughter. It took a bit to die down. The Badger waited on them.

"Yes," Lee agreed. "We (make?) same hand move. Word is gesture," she supplied. "Here," she said, pointing into her own palm. "There," she said pointing off in the indefinite distance. "Come," she said, making an arch with her index fingers from away toward herself. "Come," she drawing both flat hands toward herself. "Stop!" she said loudly and sharply, holding one hand palm out flat and straight armed, toward the Badger.

"Two hand all (but?) stop. One hand stop."

"(Need?) want other hand (free?) weapon," she said, touching the dagger at her waist. "Say stop. You no try. You do."

The Badger made what they suspected was a smile.

"(Make?) lot gesture," Lee. Gesture say same things we think we (know?)(understand?).

That was the first time he'd called any of them by name.

"Give," she said, cupping her hand and lifting some imagined object toward him. "Get," she said reaching out before forming a cup and bringing it back to her. "Take," she said and snatched something from the air and brought it back to her. "Hold," she declared and grabbed above the hand she'd never opened from 'take' and held it to her breast double handed.

"Say other Badgers (make?) gesture. Go less time," he assured her. (Need?) lot word. You gesture word no."

Lee shook her head back and forth.

"You gesture word yes."

Lee gave short double nod rocking up and down.

The Badger hesitated. "You gesture lot yes."

Lee rocked her head more emphatically six times.

"Ahhh, yes!" he agreed and nodded his head the same way.

"Gesture word make. Word (make?) not yes not no.

"Word (make?) uncertain," Lee supplied, holding her cupped hands before her and lifting one and the other alternatively and looking back and forth between them.

"(unknown) (unknown) Lee. You (unknown) yes this Lee."

"Thank you," Lee said and dipped her head in a single bow she held a bit.

"Pretty sure of yourself aren't you girl?" Gordon said off mic.

"Yes," Lee told him, aware the Badger could see the by-play.

"I gesture make," Lee told the Badger. "Gordon I saw that extra sandwich you brought back to the bridge. Please let me use that and have somebody bring you another."

He handed it over silently.

"Oh good, it's ham and cheese. Egg salad would have been a mess."

Lee held the sandwich up for the camera. "Sandwich," she declared. She changed the camera angle to make sure it showed the slight shelf in front of her console. She laid the bread ham and the cheese out in a line in front of her. "Bread, ham, cheese, she said, pointing at each in turn. "No sandwich," she said, looking back and forth like she was searching for it. "I make sandwich." She assembled them again and presented it to the camera. "I made (make?) one sandwich," she said proudly. She took it back apart.

"Parts," she declared, "All parts," she said waving her finger back and forth across them all. "Some parts," she declared shifting a slice of bread and ham away from the other slice of bread and cheese in front of her. "Some parts here, Some parts there," she said, pointing in turn. "Those parts away," she said with a dismissive hand flop. "Closer," she declared moving together them a bit. "Closer," she repeated with another small move. "Much closer," she declared bring them most of the distance together. "Very close," she said leaving only a finger's width between them. "Touching," she said. Letting one corner of the bread just contact the other.

"Word gesture, very close word show," she instructed him.

She reassembled the sandwich, pulled the dagger from her belt and cut it in two. "I cut the sandwich," she said. "Two parts," she said, "equal." She cut one half well off center. "Two parts, not equal. "No word and not word, very close," she told him. "Word equal, word same, very close."

"Bridge, we see the word count going up in the software stats. A bunch went from tentative to confirmed. Are you doing that up there?" the ward room workers asked.

"Yeah, Lee is teaching the Badger a few terms," Gordon admitted.

"A few? She added more than we did all morning."

"I suspect things will move better now. The Badgers will likely start using her methods."

"Send her down here when you can spare her. She can show us directly."

"That's a pretty good description of what she's doing," Gordon said. "I'll ask her," he promised.

"After a while. I want to see what the new guys do before leaving the bridge."

Gordon nodded. "After we finish up this session," he told the translators."

"You say (New race) crazy in head. I see," Lee agreed.

"You (need?) know. (New race) word (name?) you grass eaters. Not see you equal."

"Oh, that's OK," Gordon agreed. "Uncertain we see (new race) equal," Gordon told the Badger, copying Lee's weighing gesture.

The Badger looked alarmed. Wide eyes and a slightly open mouth must mean the same thing in these creatures as similar as they were.

"You (wanted?) know word (new race)," he demonstrated on his own hand, biting it.

"Biters! Isn't that lovely," Gordon said. He couldn't help himself. He smiled. The Badgers had never seen a Derf smile. They'd been careful not to. It was interesting the Badger could look even more upset.

"And they have factions that hate each other so much they can't give their crews liberty on the same station without having a riot," Lee said to the bridge, but muted her mic. "Nice people."

"And they are scared to try to arm against them, unless they know they have better weapons right from the start, because they are crazy. No telling what they'd do I imagine," Thor said, just to them.

"Say one time again. You (want?) us send message to Biters?"

"Hey!" Lee called out to the Badger and got his attention back. "Sandwich equal Biters," she said. Then she took a big bite out of it and turned it so the chunk missing was obvious and smiled.

The Badger looked at her, silent and turned back to Gordon. "You (want?) send message?"

"Yes. If (uncertain?) they (want?) something (thing?) they can talk (say?) to me," Gordon said.

"OK, we do," the Badger said and left the desk to another doing mundane translating. They shut down the feed to the bridge, letting the Ward Room crew carry on.

"How long for them to react?" Thor asked.

"Within five minutes if they have a temper," Gordon predicted. He thought about it a little bit. "All ships, enter targeting data for the aliens surveillance drone in your system for beam weapon fire. Run a check on greaser systems to confirm they are ready. Confirm our clocks are synchronized."

One by one the readiness and system status reports came in.

"If I order fire on the drone do so at the next full minute tick."

The screen came on and showed a new creature they hadn't seen.

"The new ship is backing off of the station," Jon, the com tech announced.

The alien was wide and squat. Some of it was hidden by the desk or console it was behind. Its prominent feature that jumped out at them was wide hooked beak like a raptor that dominated the face. The beak was shiny black with a roll at the back like a cuticle. The eyes forward looking, the forehead low. The top of the head flat with grooves on the side that might be for ears.

"Check that hide out," Thor said.

It was different than any race they'd seen. Pebbled flat plates and spikes and horns along raised areas and places needing extra protection. The color was dark blue, but as its head turned and it looked at its own screen it shifted to green and then got yellow streaks. When he spoke his tongue was dark grey and pointy.

"You make (demands?) grass eater? We give (gave?) you a hundred of thousands your seconds get drone. We take (gift?) back. We take (remove?) now." He turned his head and said something beyond the translation program to somebody off camera.

"Missile launch from big ship. Looked to be about ten meters long. Chemical rocket to get it away from the ship, then it switched to an ion drive right quickly. Lost it on optical tracking. Do you want me to use radar?"

"Don't bother, Jon. We know where it's going. Time how long it takes to kill our drone and tell me it's acceleration," Gordon ordered.

Gordon started the translation program to respond. "Do I look (like) same (a?) grass eater?" Gordon asked, smiling extra wide for him. The alien's eyes were like black marbles and didn't react, but a mustard yellow frill on the back of his neck spread a little.

"We do same. (Remove?) you (your?) drone," Gordon said and cut the translator. The clock was just passing the minute, perfect. "All ships, fire beam weapons on their drone at the full minute tick."

At the minute and a few milliseconds the drone became an expanding ball of plasma, before the missile got to theirs.

The feed from their drone terminated and Jon announced," Sort of slow for a missile. It averaged a bit over twenty gs. Light coming in from the detonation shows a chemical signature. I read carbon and nitrogen. Maybe they don't have nukes?"

"I wouldn't assume that," Thor said. "They might have been reluctant to use one near their station and after all, the other races don't have ship weapons, so a conventional explosive is plenty. It certainly is cheaper than expending a nuke, even if they have them."

Brownie their navigator volunteered an opinion. "If they had them these guys act like they'd use one just to intimidate us."

"He might have the right of it there," Thor admitted.

The alien was back on screen and two others lurking behind him. They brought the translator back up.

"You no move. We move closer (to?) you. This (our?) star system, we look see all weapons you got. Biters in suit go to you. Tell you go or tell you not go (stay?)."

"If you (want?) us go. Say now. (Ask?) others on station they want we go. You no come here now (after?) you shoot. You come here we destroy you. (Understand?) Make you not."

"(Understand?) you try, eater (vegetation?)."

"Cheeky fellow," Lee said.

"Go ahead and launch our jump drone back into the last system," Gordon ordered." The ship lurched from the launch in just a few seconds.

"Alien is maneuvering," Jon warned. "Assuming an intercept course with us. Activating radar, but it doesn't appear to be in a targeting mode."

"Who is our technical expert on what these Fargone missiles can do?" Gordon asked. "Get him on com with me."

"Engineering – Ames here. How can I help you Sir?"

"Are our new missiles from Fargone capable of directing a beam accurately enough to hit one end of ship?"

Gordon could hear him clicking his keys, calling up data. "The primary beam straight ahead, within a couple degrees of the weapons long axis is very accurate. The further you get off that, the less accurate secondary beams are. To nip off one end and not miss or take it in the middle by accident? Yeah, we can do that if we get within eight thousand kilometers. Ten thousand, maybe. That's stretching it for, uh, the aliens who shot our drone I assume?"

"Yes, they are headed for us with the stated intention of boarding."

"Maybe," Lee said skeptically. "Don't plan on it. They may have lied, they may have changed plans once we threatened to destroy them. They may not brake but just blow past and shoot."

"Ten thousand kilometers then. They are a bigger target than the others at the station. Assuming we can get one that close. We haven't seen what close in defenses they have. And of course you can't bore in from straight off their bow and shoot the rear. You'll have to program a dog-leg and shoot at them from broadside. Perhaps I'm assuming wrong. Do you want to blow off the front? That would likely remove their bridge if they build like everybody else."

"If the other races don't have ship to ship weapons, I'd expect them to have little or no close defense, unless they fight among themselves a great deal. And no, I want to nip off the back. I want somebody left who has authority to negotiate. Set up one X-head to do such a dog-leg maneuver and try to lay a beam on the back quarter of their ship. Have it do evasive action and full ECM inside twenty thousand kilometers from the target. If they can shoot it outside that range I'll be surprised and waste a missile."

"Aye, Sir. It'll be set up to blow their butts off in a few minutes," Ames promised.

Gordon went back to the system plot. "Fire up the radar on the Sharp Claws and give me a half power running scan relayed here. No reason to be polite about illuminating them anymore. That should give us plenty of detail and not show them everything we have. Assume they will not decelerate to engage and show our missile envelope onscreen and the point of their course at which we launch to meet them at extreme range. Brownie, are they aimed off our position to any degree, like they have abandoned the boarding idea?"

"No Sir, dead on. But they could launch straight ahead, or they might not want to telegraph what they consider their engagement range and will turn at the last minute."

"Interesting, they may have some actual concept of tactics," Gordon said.

The data box beside their icon on the screen indicated they were accelerating at 1.78g.

"They look physically strong," Lee said. "I can't believe less than two g is pushing it for them."

"I bet that's one and a half times their normal gravity," Gordon said. "People tend to pick even numbers when they set things like that. That's a safe acceleration. Why push it when we're not going anywhere? They should enter our missile envelope in a bit over three hours. Have all operations secured to maneuver an hour before. Man all combat positions fifteen minutes before. Am I missing anything?"

"You know how you had the missiles coast toward the emergent point when we engaged the destroyer at Fargone?" Thor asked.

"Yes. Does something about it apply here?"

"Maybe. Why not fire a X-head now, aimed to miss them by thirty thousand kilometers or so. Let it expend about a quarter of its fuel and coast. When they are near converging let it power back up, have a go at them from right angles to their vector. If you can program it and get the shot off soon it will coast far enough to engage them well beyond the usual range under continuous powered flight. Use the Retribution since they have the biggest magazines."

"Ames, Brownie, can we do that and get it off soon enough to work?"

"Shoot it now," Ames told them. "I'll write the programming and transmit it to the missile in flight. It should catch them a half hour outside our usual powered engagement range."

"Do it," Gordon ordered. The Retribution took the shot in about twenty seconds. Gordon didn't ask Ames if he was sure he could write the program and load it to a missile in flight. You have to trust your people sometimes. It made him nervous though. At least they would know if this worked before they had to launch another. It would be a shame to have one of the expensive missiles in flight and no target for it. In theory they could power it down and recover it. But it was a slow and delicate operation in zero g. One he wouldn't want to do in a hostile system.

"Low power scan of the Biter ship with variable frequency radar to your console," the XO on the Sharp Claws, Lord Byron reported."

"Interesting," Thor declared. "They are a bit bigger than us but lumpy. There are two long sections that swell from the main fuselage on either side, and all kinds of crap big and small all over the hull. Or at least the side we can see a little looking almost head on."

"Are they still talking to your guys in the Ward Room?" Gordon asked Luke, who showed no desire to leave the ringside seat watching the bridge crew in action and go back to join them. Neither had they dismissed him.

Luke checked quietly. "Weird, but yes they are. The Badgers are talking to them, doing mundane word by word translation and exploring grammar a bit more. They are demonstrating things physically it would be hard and time consuming to program an avatar to do. Thank you for that," he said aside to Lee. "Two of the Bills have been back on camera, now that the Biters are away."

"They aren't asking anything about our status with the Biters?"

"Ha! They're cowardly," Lee insisted. "They aren't going to say anything until they see who wins."

"I'm curious. On the Sharp Claws you have Captain Frost and the XO is Lord Byron. I've almost never heard a Derf use more than a one word Human name. Is there some common bond that they both seem to admire poets?" Luke asked.

"A lot of Derf like poetry," Gordon informed him. "I do too, but I favor it in Derf. I may speak English well but it's a horrible kludged up language of bits and parts. You guys have even borrowed Derf words already. So I can't hear English poetry without being jarred out of the moment by thinking how a line has words from three languages all forced into unholy association. That's why their Chief Engineer calls himself Ho`omanawanui."

"Oh, that's interesting," Luke hesitated, looking like he wanted to ask more, but just made a note to himself on his pad. "That suggests a very orderly thought process to me."

Gordon looked at him sharply. Searching to see if it was a smart crack, Luke wasn't his favorite person on board and he had reservations about him, but he seemed to mean it.

"Now we wait," Thor pointed out in the pause. "Did somebody mention sandwiches?"

Chapter 9

On the Biters bridge the tactical officer noted the missile launch, then updated it. "It appears to have gone off course a bit and then lost power."

"No wonder they didn't use a missile on the station folk's drone if they are that shoddy," the Captain said. "They could at least have a self-destruct capacity built into them for when they fail."

"Yes but what did they use?" the first officer asked. "Something light speed for certain."

"And short range. You could use a laser like that if it was scaled up sufficiently. It isn't very efficient. They set the distance, which the Badgers should never have allowed, in addition to permitting them an observation drone in the first place. They had no idea if it might carry weapons. Undoubtedly, they set the distance to bring the drone within range of their weapon," the Captain said.

"That vessel they released is on a jump line for a neighboring star. It makes me wonder what it is. If it's a missile it's quite large and slow, but if it's a manned vessel they can take more acceleration than we can for long periods."

"Why would it be a missile? What would they be shooting at? It's awfully small for a manned interstellar vessel. I think it's just a big messenger drone," the Captain assured him. "They are sending word back home I'd assume."

"Then their home, off that direction in that unknown part of the sky, is close enough for an automated drone to reach it, or they've left more ships waiting in that system for word of what they found here."

Neither was a comforting thought.

* * *

"I'm going to get a bite to eat, lie down a bit and be rested when the Biters get in range," Gordon announced.

"I'll take a break too," Lee said. Nobody really assigned her a set watch.

"Anybody who wants a short break, if you have somebody to cover who is not on the board as sleeping, feel free to do so," Thor told the bridge crew.

Lee got another ham and cheese sandwich and layered tomato, lettuce and cucumber slices until it was huge. She tucked mayonnaise and hot mustard between layers and surrounded it with pickles.

"It's nice having fresh salad stuff. Even if we'd had the equipment when we were with mom and dad it would have taken too much time. When we got really busy and we had other duties there would have been no time to tend it. I understand you really have to monitor it closely every day."

"Yes, having a bigger crew lets you do more. But here we sit not getting much done at all. I'd have loved to gone up closer and taken a shuttle over to the station, even if we didn't make a docking adaptor to attach a bigger ship," Gordon told her. "Just to play the tourist."

"And we're not making any money or finding things we can claim sitting here," Lee noted.

"Yes, a few of the crew have mentioned that. I've had several suggestion in private messages that we aren't a cultural mission. That we should tell them we can spend our time better elsewhere if they aren't seriously interested in trade and take off on a loop away from their stars and back towards home."

Lee looked very serious thinking about it. "That's a little premature. We haven't gotten to where we can speak with them well enough to know if they will trade with us. Maybe prod Luke a little to introduce more words specific to trading and business. I'm not sure he is focused on that. But in principle, yes, if they don't want to trade, then move on," she agreed.

"If the Biters don't want them to trade with us they may be too cowed to argue with them."

"At the station yes, but they indicated their home worlds are secure. We could suggest we do business there, if they aren't afraid to tell us where they are."

"Let's pull Luke over and run these ideas past him. Luke!" he called out. "Grab a sandwich and whatever, if you haven't, and come talk with us," Gordon ordered.

* * *

"Get up here please, Gordon, we're near restarting the intercept on the Biters," Thor called on com.

"Any changes with them?"

"Boring straight in. If they are going to decelerate to match us at the same level they will reach the halfway point and do it pretty soon."

"I didn't think about that. It has to take them couple minutes to flip a ship that size over unless it is a combat emergency. We should have calculated the exact probable moment and set the missile to resume boost while they were flipping."

"Let me run the numbers, we can't be far off."

"Tell me when I get to the bridge," Gordon told him. He looked longingly at the shower. He had time for that, but not time to dry. He put on short boots and a belt and headed for the bridge. Lee heard him coming up behind her and waited for him.

"Luke asked the races on the station why they kept working at the translation when the Biters are coming to board us. And didn't they have anything to say about that, or questions?"

"Oh really?"

"They said they wanted to get as much done as possible while we are still here."

"Does that mean before they kick us out, or before the Biters kill us?"

"That was exactly my question. But Luke didn't have the nerve to ask them."

"Did you order him to?"

"I strongly suggested it. I avoid phrasing things as orders to not step on your toes," Lee said. "I know I'm an owner, but I never asked for any command authority because of my age. Even if we don't contradict each other having orders from more than one boss could get confusing."

"That fine for tactical things, But if he doesn't have the sense to take a strong suggestion from you for business dealings he may be working in hydroponics tomorrow," Gordon said, getting grouchy. "It isn't a matter of an immediate operational order from you that could conflict with me, you seem to get that. You aren't telling anybody to change course or break orbit, dealing with the natives touches on our purpose of mission which is your concern."

When they reached the bridge Thor waited for them to secure themselves before speaking.

"The missile should fire up and maneuver on them two minutes before they flip, if they do it exactly at the halfway point. They will be within twelve light seconds by then, so we won't get much lag on them seeing it. I don't think it's worth altering the programming at the last moment for such a small difference. And the drive will be pointed away from them. They'll have little time to respond to it."

"Maybe they won't notice it." Lee said.

"Maybe, but if my bridge watch missed something that important for over a minute I'd be really upset at their sloppiness," Thor told her.

"I'm going to find out what Luke has learned," Gordon told them. "Lee suggested Luke find out why the station translators consider it a possibility we may not be around long. They want to get all the data they can until we are gone. Lurk on the channel if you want," he invited.

"Luke, did the station team tell you why they were concerned our efforts at filling out the translation software might be terminated?"

"I've asked three different ways and not gotten a clear answer."

"Are you dancing around the issue instead of speaking plainly?"

"I'm trying to be somewhat circumspect, yes. I don't wish to insult them."

"Give me a direct channel with the current software enabled. I'll ask them, Gordon told him.

Luke looked alarmed, but could be seen reaching down and working his board.

"You are connected to their main translator. He knows you are our commander."

A Badger appeared on Gordon's screen. "I see you Commander. How may I serve?"

"I need know what you expect (go?) (happen?) when Biters here," the program captioned on the screen. Close enough Gordon figured to what he said. "You say our work on translator (will?) end. (Why?) You see ahead (expect?) Biters send us home? Or you see Biters (kill?) us?" Gordon wasn't happy with the uncertainty about kill, so he added. "Destroy us."

The Badger started the hand wringing thing, looking down reading the question off his screen. There was just enough lag on the transit time it was irritating.

"Enough (hand wringing?). Just say (answer?) yes (true?) no (false)." Gordon told him.

"Hand wringing?" The Badger repeated.

Gordon put his true hands just in camera range and did a fair imitation.

After the lag the Badger yanked his hands apart and looked at them like traitors. He crossed arms and tucked them in his arm pits, a gesture they hadn't seen.

"The Biters are, (how?) (uncertain?) you say, fight easy? Get (want?) fight easy?"

"Tell your guys to work with our crew on aggressive, combative, angry, easily provoked, mad."

"Huh! Lot words. Something you know well you got many words."

"Yes. Know well. Know lot (too?) well.

"You talk to Biters open," he paused. "Everybody hear."

"Yes, in the clear, we say. No (encryption?). No (code?). Not (private?). (Crap?) tell your guys (to?) work on (those?) words."

"Yes enough. They not like talk that way. We on station hear. They fight faster you make them look bad. They (unknown?), they (unknown?). They see Lee bite sandwich. They get there with you. You say no. They fight. You much, much same them. More same not like us. Talk bad. They talk bad. You talk bad again," he said hands stabbing at each other. "Go you, go Biters, end fight we think."

"(So?) (why?) uncertain you think they (win?)?" Gordon asked. Damn software. "Why think fight end, we destroyed, Biters not destroyed?"

The Badger actually shrugged, a gesture so like both Humans and Derf that Lee laughed out loud.

"We do (that?) (too?)," Lee told him.

"Same?" he asked and shrugged again. She thought that's what a Badger must look like when the felt sheepish or amused. "Yes (good?) we same (unknown?) one way."

"Yes, same," Lee agreed.

"We know Biters. Not know you. Not know end."

"(What?) (if?) we (win?)," Thor asked. "(What?) if Biters destroyed?"

"Coming up on two minutes for missile activation," Brownie reminded them.

"That (unknown?). Lot (many?), things. More we (can?) know (hold?) now," the Badger said.

"Yeah, (it's?) (complicated?)," Gordon agreed. Talk later. We fight," he said and cut the Badger com and software off.

"Thanks for the heads up. This needs our full attention. I wonder if they will abort their burn and vector away from us when they see the missile close on them?"

* * *

The Captain was calling out orders to secure for turn-over and a braking burn. The tactical officer interjected a "Sir!" while he was speaking, earning a glare, but no pause in his orders, just a forestalling hand whipped up in a gesture that was quick and unfriendly. "What?" He barked with a loud exasperated click of his beak after the ship started its rotation.

"Sir, the missile that went dead has reactivated and turned toward us! It pinged us with its own radar. Estimated time to intercept is twelve minutes."

"Configure our radar for jamming and track it. Prepare a missile to intercept it at a hundredth of a light second. Prepare the close in defense cloud in case it gets past the missile."

The defense cloud was a huge mass of tiny hard triangles, about four millimeters along each edge, meant to shred an incoming missile that needed to close to within a few kilometers to detonate. Gordon's crew would have recognized them as a giant Claymore mine.

"Initiating jamming with a peek at ten second intervals. No reaction to jamming. Missile still on course. Uh, radar is acting odd. I believe the missile has jamming capabilities itself. Oh crap, radar breaking up, random lines and dots, radar now down hard."

"Tactician, launch on time for intercept assuming a straight in course. The same with the close defense. Firing blind is better than sitting waiting for the impact."

"Yes Sir. Launch in three minutes, close defense in four minutes forty seconds."

They waited in silence. Finally the ship lurched from the interceptor launch.

>WHAM< The whole hull rang and the lights went out. The drive ceased functioning. At least the emergency lights worked.

"What in the seventy two tiers of hell was that?" the Captain demanded. "Did we catch something else? The close defense didn't deploy so we got hit early. No way that missile hit us."

"Whatever it was, it was so bright it overloaded the hull cameras," his tactician warned him.

"Engineering doesn't answer Sir."

"Work forward until you get an answer from someone."

After a pause the communications tech announced. "The missile crew amidships reports they have put on their pressure suits and there is nothing behind bulkhead twenty seven."

"No pressure?"

"No Sir. No ship."

The Captain said that thing no commander ever wants to say. "We are blind and adrift. Rig self destruct so we can deny them the vessel if we are boarded."

"I'm sorry Sir, the self destruct uses the drive. It was all behind bulkhead twenty nine. All I can do is rig the computer to wipe and melt the core memory."

"We still have radio while the batteries last," the com tech reminded him. "Is there anyone at the station capable of doing an intercept and tow?"

"Wouldn't they love that," the Captain hissed. "And the money grubbing bastards would send a bill home that would ruin us. I'm not going to ask them."

"I don't see how we will ever get this wreck to a shipyard," his number two said. "There is nothing big enough to grapple it and take it through a jump. Perhaps a yard could build this model ship from bulkhead twenty seven back and bring it here. Weld it on and splice all the lines and wires..."

"Assuming the aliens don't come in closer and finish us off with whatever they used on the station drone," the Captain said. "If they can bring in a drive section and repair it is not our concern, because we won't be crewing it. I imagine they won't hold it against base rank crew not in the command structure. But no bridge crew loses a command and then is told it was unavoidable and given another."

"I suppose we owe them preserving what we can."

"If opportunity presents itself to do so honorably," the Captain said begrudgingly.

* * *

"Hit! Radar shows a cloud of condensed metal vapor and larger debris," Brownie said. "They have ceased acceleration. No further radar emissions. Ah, looks like they have a slow tumble too. I'm getting a changing radar cross section. Yeah, it peaked and going back down now, tumbling for sure."

"Do you think we can render assistance?" Gordon asked. "I'd say a tow back to the station is in order. Assuming their environmental systems will last the trip."

"Not-by-us," Lee protested firmly.

Gordon looked at her surprised. Usually Lee was more forgiving than he tended to be. It was rare he heard that steel in her voice. What was she thinking? Abandon them to suffocate or freeze? Or even finish them off?

"If an alien vessel had just blown our drive section off the back of the ship and they came around to board or tow you away, what would you do?"

"Oh… I'd blow the thing to hell to avoid capture and hope they were stupid enough to get close and let me take them with us."

Lee nodded agreement silently.

"Perhaps," Brownie volunteered, "we should see if any of the station personnel are able, or disposed at all, to render assistance."

"Lee, let's go back to the Ward Room. I need a couple sandwiches, they don't keep me satisfied very long," Gordon revealed, "and we can discuss this with Luke's crew."

The graphic they created with Luke's crew was plain enough, just in case the words were still ambiguous. The animation showed the Biters ship flipping and the missile from the Retribution taking off the extreme rear of the ship. They didn't show it blowing up at a distance and a beam doing the damage. No need to give details away they probably could not see from the station. It showed the entire Small Fleet staying away and a ship from the station slowing the wreck's motion and then pushing it back to the station.

Their reply showed them taking the survivors off with one ship and pushing the shortened ship back to the station with another.

That worked too. They might have more information about how long life support would run or the Biter's preferences about being rescued. With no complicated dialog needed they said, "Yes."

* * *

"Sir, station command is asking if we want a rescue and recovery operation. They indicate the alien vessel suggested they respond and doesn't want to be involved."

"I guess they have determined we don't have any technology worth stealing," he said bitterly.

"Tell the damn grass eating Badger yes," he agreed. "You can phrase it more pleasantly than that," he added. "If I was him I'd jack the price up if it was accepted with insults, no matter how true. I never thought I'd need to be nice to a damn Badger."

* * *

"Well isn't that interesting?" Lee spoke aloud. She was watching the translator channels.

"What?" Gordon asked.

"The language they are feeding us. I've been quietly sub-vocalizing parts of it. Trying to see some structure or words with a common root."

"Not as sub as you think. I thought you'd cracked and acquired an invisible friend."

"Big ears," she accused. "It's a lot like English, it's bits and pieces of different languages. They seem to have plucked the word for something from whichever language had a word easy for everyone to pronounce. They call it 'Trade', so that looks auspicious for us getting them to do some trading with us."

"Auspicious? Is that like superstitious?" Thor asked. Lee ignored him.

"The Biters must be alive and somewhat functioning," Brownie told them. "They stopped the tumble and I can't imagine an automated system doing that with a chunk of the ship gone."

* * *

The Biters were quick to refuse having their wreck docked to the station so they could live on ship. The docking fees would be ruinous in the time rescue would take to arrive, if they were rescued. The command structure was not kind to crews who lost their ship. They scheduled to go down-world where accommodations were more reasonable. They'd grabbed all their personal items, a few small pieces of equipment, like computer memory and destroyed a few things they didn't want the lesser races to see.

The wreck was stabilized and parked far enough from the station to not be in the way of traffic, but close enough to keep an eye on it. Close enough to send a crew over to snoop on the Biters current ship design too.

The Badger engineer called his supervisor. "You need to come down here and look at this."

"Can't you write it up, take a few pix and send me the report?"

"No. Not unless I hand deliver it. I don't want to tell you over the radio either."

"Something different?"

"Something strange, different and scary as hell, that's already saying too much."

"Well, I'm supposed to have an annual suit familiarization every year anyway. I'll be over in about four thousand seconds. Can you wait that long for me?"

"Absolutely. I'll go back in the work scooter and come out when you arrive.

The supervisor broke the connection and sighed. The engineer was effusive and given to bouts of sudden over dramatic sensationalism. He might be a little paranoid too, which wasn't always a bad thing when dealing with the Biters. It might be healthy with these new people too. But he was solid enough in his profession he'd better go look at whatever stirred him up.

The engineer led him along a temporary boom, clamped to the wreck to provide a safe access and a place to dock a construction scooter with its grapples.

"Don't feel the edge," the engineer warned him, putting a restraining hand on his elbow when he started to reach. "It's sharp enough to cut your glove."

"This is bizarre," the administrator said. The rear of the ship was gone, a fraction of the last compartment a shallow hollow at the rear. There were no ragged edges or floating strands of wires.

"No joke. You tell me what would slice the ass off a ship like a big razor. I expected to see one of two things. Either the wreck would be a ragged mess of shredded metal from the shrapnel of conventional explosives, or gone entirely, blown to bits. I suppose eventually one might see a ship that was hit by a powerful enough laser beam to damage it, but nothing we make at present."

"It's not straight either, is it?"

"You've got a good eye. No, it's a segment of an arch. Whatever did this was circular, and about fifty man lengths across. So if it had hit dead center it would have vaporized most of the ship."

The boss man floated there looking at it. The engineer kept quiet. His boss wasn't stupid, just trained differently and he could be insightful if you shut up and let him think. He was remembering Lee taking a bite of sandwich and holding it back up with a big arch gone...

"It's not," he struggled for a way to say it, "lopsided."

"Yeah?"

"You already know what I'm trying to say!"

"Yes, but when you reason it out yourself you really believe it. And the evidence is right in front of you just screaming out the answer. So you tell me."

"OK. The chances of them missing the center of the ship, but being exactly in line with the long axis is just about zero. The end is sheared off as straight as you'd cut a slice off a sausage! So they missed to the rear on purpose. They could have destroyed them completely, but chose instead to give them a little slap like spanking an errant cub to teach it a lesson."

"Yep. That's what I saw too. Although I have no confidence the Biters are bright enough cubs to have learned the intended lesson. I'm afraid they will need a few more swats, likely harder ones."

"What did this though? I mean, did it take the part missing away by some mechanism we don't understand? Is it still in one piece somewhere, else?" Swallowed like a bite of sandwich, he thought.

"No Sir. It was plain old vaporized all right. Look here," he invited, moving into the hollow of the last compartment exposed by the destruction. "Don't snag yourself on the edges." He removed a utility knife and went to a sort of work bench that was attached to the bulkhead that was untouched. He scraped away at it and a light brown polymer surface appeared as the grey film was flaked off.

"The shiny grey surface is evaporated, uh – well everything that is gone – vacuum deposited like we'd make a mirror. Damned if I know how to make a beam that will do that. Not with an edge transition finer than one of your ear hairs."

The supervisor was silent and thoughtful again. Finally he confided his thoughts to the engineer.

"Our translators are very confident that they understood the foreigners to say they are merchants. They keep mentioning trade and don't even seem very interested in what sort of governments we have. That's reversed from when we met the Biters. They aren't like the Biters, an armed agency of one of their several governments. But we had no trouble getting the concept of an army across to them when we drew out groups fighting. They grasped the concept immediately and had no questions what our avatars were doing. But we hadn't asked if they are like us, not sending armed people to space, or if they are like the Biters, so aggressive they bring their feuds and conflicts along with them regardless of the expense and uncertainty. Damn it to the Biter's hell, space is dangerous enough all on its own," he complained.

"When the world was half empty and divided among local lords back in our early history, even a merchant would carry a sword when he went off on caravan, wouldn't he?" the engineer reminded him.

"They would indeed. It was just prudent in unknown territory. That may be the case here. They don't project the same... arrogance as the Biters. Perhaps I'm borrowing trouble to expect them to bring the same troubles to us the Biters do, just because they are well armed. But obviously their politeness doesn't mean they aren't dangerous."

"Yes, if these are their merchants, I'd rather not meet their soldiers," the engineer decided.

Chapter 10

"We want to know if you trade among your races and if you will trade with us. We've waited two additional weeks until we have a lot more words translated and understand your grammar better because you keep saying we might not understand each other. This much time living on ship and not finding anything of value has used up resources for nothing back. We need to know if we might trade with you. If not we will go and keep looking for new worlds and new races and resources nobody has claimed. When we get home if there are people who want to come study your language and history they can come ask you to do that. But we are traveling to find resources and if we find people, to trade with them. If you are not interested tell us," Gordon demanded.

"We have agreed resources is material things. Very few material things are worth taking between stars. What can you have worth trading?"

"We have small amounts of metals most of our cultures use as (money?) exchange. We can trade (ideas?), designs (plans?), ways to make things. Perhaps our art if it is not (too?) more (strange?) different than yours. We have seeds of plants and cultures (alive?) of tiny plants."

"You see we don't have words for all these things."

"Yes, because you avoid defining them." That was pointed enough to produce a pause.

"What will you not trade?" This was a new question.

"Ships, people, ship's weapons, diseases, navigational data, anything we need and have no extra."

"Let me (consult?) speak more with the heads of each race here."

"No. If you can only speak for the Badgers, then speak for them. We are tired of delay and ready to move on. You are not saying what the problem is and we are near the time we don't (care?) and will leave."

"You say speak for Badgers. You offer to trade with Badgers if we speak for Badgers alone?"

"Yes, if you will do it that way. You always say you have to ask the others any time we offered anything."

"We had an agreement (contract?). None allowed ask to trade only with you. But if you offer is allowed. Took you long time to offer."

"But we spoke very little with the others. You had the advantage."

"They have same radios. We did not hide words we learn. We just kept talking. They stopped. Smart of us, yes?"

"Yes. Very smart of you," Gordon agreed, but was really irritated.

"And it wouldn't have worked worth a damn with us, if they were trying to cut us out," Thor sent in text to Gordon and Lee's screens so the Badger would not see an aside.

"Yes, the other races are not as aggressive," Gordon agreed, typing as he listened.

"Except maybe the Biters?" Lee asked.

"Smart of us yes? is a bit smug," Lee sent back. "They may think they can slick us as easily. That really wasn't so smart to say out loud to us."

"They're welcome to try," Thor sent in text, smiling across at her while Gordon kept talking.

* * *

"Now we have agreement - you want to come visit station?" the Badger asked.

"If we can bring a couple of the crew and some samples. Do you have somebody to sit and talk about what you want and what we have to sell?" Gordon asked.

"Yes, we got trader. You talk him."

"Is that what we should call him? Trader? What should we call you?"

The Badger tilted his head back. Gordon had seen that a couple times already. It indicated thoughtfulness or uncertainty.

"You call me Talker is good. You come close station – come to lock in suit?" he asked.

"No need, we have a docking adaptor made up that will go on the nose of any of our ships. Just have our guys talk and make sure what is in your air mix and what gravity strength, so we know it is safe for us. Likely it is, but make sure. And tell us any dock fees or other cost."

"I tell them right now, make sure air is good. We not worry about dock fees for first ship. You dock free first time. You make a docking ring on ship already? That big piece metal to make on ship." He seemed impressed.

"Made it on ship. Gordon corrected. "Then you will be interested in trading for a fabricator."

* * *

When they stepped into their own lock they felt a tug forward, not down. As they stepped out it rotated until at full strength a couple steps away from the lock it was straight down and felt just like standing on a planet.

"There's a bit of a transition there, the gravity leaks over the edge a bit," Gordon told them.

Thor just nodded and Lee said nothing. They didn't want to let the Badgers see how interested they were in that tech. Lee noticed Ha-bob-bob-brie made the transition through the crooked line of gravity with more grace than any of the rest of them.

"It smells odd," Lee said as soon as they cleared the lock.

"You are probably smelling things no Human ever smelled before," Thor said.

"It doesn't stink," Gordon noted. "It would be a real pain in the butt if after all this effort the Badgers stank so bad we couldn't stand to be around them."

"What if we're the stinkers?" Lee wondered.

Talker was standing waiting for them. He didn't press close or do any sort of formality like a bow or a hand shake. Gordon recognized him for sure. His muzzle markings were distinctive. The other Badger was probably Trader, but he had to ask.

"Hello Talker. I recognize you, but we're still not very good at seeing small differences. Is this Trader with you?"

"Indeed it is. I can understand we are a little harder to tell apart than you and Lee," Talker said.

Amazing, Badgers got humor, Gordon thought. Aloud he said, "This is Thor, you know Lee. This is Ha-bob-bob-brie. You say there isn't any sort of docking fee?"

"There will be for other ships. You are first. Let us, how you say, no fee?"

"Free, or you make a gift of it."

"Two more words, so many to go. Come see station. You walk far OK? Want sit – not walk?"

"Ride, is the word if we use a machine to move us. We can walk just fine."

Talker took off with a come-along gesture as soon as Lee agreed. Trader casually took his hand interlacing their fingers.

"Ask for pictures of wheeled vehicles to see what we ride," Lee suggested.

Talker looked at a really small pad or maybe a phone, letting Trader steer them. "Yes got ride. Got pix of automobile and truck with wheels."

"Ask my ship to show you pix of a golf cart."

"Ah, little automobile. But what is golf?"

"A game," Thor supplied. "People do contests of unimportant things for exercise and fun, that is a game. It's complicated. That will probably keep your translators busy for a week."

The corridor was surprisingly spacious. It felt weird to know they were on a station but it was flat.

"Do you have a hotel?" Lee asked. "Do you have that word yet?"

"Yes," Talker agreed after checking his hand pad. "A temporary living space away from home. My note says our idea of temporary differed. We rarely have people want a place to stay for less than several tens of days. But there is no reason they can't sell you space for a night or several. Did you want to use a hotel instead of staying on your ship?"

"It might be nice to do. I'd like to see what it is like. It will help us understand your culture and what you consider important. I've stayed in hotel rooms with Gordon designed for Derf and they were much different than for humans." She carefully didn't mention they had no artificial gravity on the ship like the station had.

That interested Talker enough to turn his head. "Why would you stay with him if rooms for humans could to have?"

"Well, we're family and I'd just been through a very bad time and needed to be close to him for emotional support. We also went places there were no rooms for humans and back then we were poor enough the cost of two rooms would have mattered. We both prefer an area to sleep that has some give. A cushion or a mat that isn't hard and we both bath with warm water, either in a pool or a spray."

"There are enough strange words and ideas in that it will take my people awhile to sort it out."

"You say you are family? But you are not the same race."

"We lived in the same ship since I was born. I grew up with him. In the law of his clan family is who you accept and treat as such, not by blood or debt."

"I find that a new concept. I'm not sure all our people, and I don't just mean Badgers, could understand how you could think that way." He tipped his head down, quiet for a time. They'd seen him doing that when he was thinking hard on something. "Maybe I say better. I am not sure our people can feel that way. Thinking is easier than feeling. Far easier to change," he assured her.

"That is the nature of all our races too," Lee agreed. "When the idea was presented to Gordon's Mothers one could not accept it. It was too different from what was before."

"And yet idea was accepted," Talker noticed. "How was her opinion changed?"

"Oh, she didn't really change her opinion. The clan Champion informed her plainly that she would be removed if the law didn't change, so the clan had a change of government. She quit."

"This Champion, he has authority to change government?"

"Oh yes. Most government in Derf is by the females. They seem happy with the arrangement and it has worked for them for many thousands of years. But when there are very important issues, moral questions, the males reserve the right to step in. It is rare."

"What if she not quit and made room for the new?"

"See what Gordon has on his belt?"

Talker looked and Gordon touched the ax, not his pistol, to make sure he understood, lifting it a little in the loop carrier in which it hung and letting it fall back.

"That will remove the head of government too," Lee explained, pleased with the double meaning.

Talker didn't ask any more. He was quiet for a moment.

"Do you need any special accommodations?" he checked his computer, "Ha-bob-bob-brie." He didn't do too bad pronouncing it.

"I too need water just like my friends. I sleep standing, so nothing special is needed for that. I have little need of room nor privacy in these circumstances, so nothing is needed, thank you. I will share accommodations if my friends do not desire privacy from me. I am still learning their customs that way. We Hinth still feel more secure in a group when we sleep."

How interesting, Lee thought on that little fact. Ha-bob-bob-brie has had to sleep alone for years now and put up with it, but he still would rather be in a group. He was strong willed she concluded.

They passed some branch corridors and several doors with signage beside them, as well as several offices or businesses with window walls. One seemed to be a production facility of some sort, but whatever they were making was too small to tell what it was. But they approached something different. "What is that?" Lee asked, pointing. It was a wider opening than several other doors they'd passed. Propped open and what had to be odd percussive music sounding from within. There were a dozen people of three races lined up to get in.

"A place sells food. They also sell substances that, uh. Let me check with my translators."

"It's a bar," Gordon decided. "He just doesn't know how to say it."

"Relaxants, my people say. They are like your games. No real value but fun," Talker said. My people just gave that word to me. I like it," he said, muzzle crinkling up. "A bar? They are working on that word."

"Ask your guys to cross check with mine and see if they serve ethyl alcohol," Thor asked.

"I want to come back here later," Gordon decided.

"There may be people of questionable reputation in such place," Talker warned them. "low level workers, maybe Biters."

"I want to come back later, for sure," Gordon said undeterred. He didn't express his surprise that reputation was a word Talker knew without consulting his pad.

"With the umm, bar and the hotel also, they will need paid. Since we have not established any exchange I will advance personal funds for you," Talker offered. "The hotel will have rooms for Sasquatch and Badgers with what Lee described, a soft area and water for cleaning. We have no idea what is safe to feed you however."

"We anticipated that. We'll need a whole separate team to look into that. We have rations for a couple days that require no preparation," Gordon told them, hefting the small soft sided luggage he carried. "If you have some distilled water available that would be helpful."

They came to an observation lounge with the planet spread out before them.

"Can we sit and look a little?" Lee asked.

"Certainly. Living planet is beautiful, no?" Trader asked. He'd been the quiet one so far.

"That is a kindness, your offering to pay for us, but I hate to see you do that," Lee said, uncomfortable. "Do you people value platinum?"

Talker looked to Trader to answer. "Yes. We make, produce, a lot. But we use a lot."

"Here," Lee said, digging in her belt purse. She got the bonus hunk of metal they'd all been given and handed it to Talker. He passed it to Trader who looked at it and returned it. "Let me know when our credit against that runs down. We have some purified and in standard weights, but that's a mineral specimen we collected along the way."

"I brought some coins, but thank you Lee," Gordon said.

"I accept your payment arrangement and yes, that is good money. You trade other metals?" he asked, tossing the piece in the air and catching it, gauging its weight.

"Our whole civilization is built around metal working. We'll trade in just about any of them. But that's pretty much for the future. We didn't bring massive amounts with us. Just enough to maybe pay for stuff like our hotel. I think you'd like to see one of our smaller fabricators working. Knowing how to work metals better may be more valuable than the metal itself."

"But once you show us how," Talker stopped, uncertain how to say it. "You can charge to show, but then what is good... what is advantage for future, except to sell metal?"

"Don't any of your people treat processes as property? I mean can you own a process?" Lee asked.

"If can keep secret." Trader said with a shrug.

"Have your people work on the idea of patent, trade mark, copyright and the whole idea of intellectual property," Gordon suggested.

"That a lot. That is a lot. Our people got many words to know. Need time to work. What are claims you said you posted? Claims on systems? Mean star systems?" he asked Gordon.

"Where we come from, all the worlds that know each other, all the governments, agreed to respect the ownership of new worlds and new sources of things, such as where we found a source of platinum. Once you file a claim you have ownership rights. The others won't try to take any of your claim and they all pledge to protect your claims you make from being taken by others. We have a place to go register finds and the explorer who finds new things gets a very large chunk of the new find, the sponsoring government administers the development of planets, but simple mining claims can be developed by the finder or sold fee simple. They can make personal claims to land and other things on planets. The government who is the protector of the ship that made the discovery gets to auction off the rest of the land and things like rights to open a spaceport for ships to land and the operation of things like communication satellites and navigation aids in the new system. The discoverer gets a cut on everything though."

"Ah, you don't just keep all you find?"

"That's how it used to be, but the bigger government or bigger company could take your discovery away, or steal some of it. People wasted much of the value of a find guarding it against loss. The new system has resulted in much less waste of resources. The value of the discoveries goes into good things for our societies instead of being wasted on fighting or avoiding fighting. And people explore who wouldn't, if they had any doubt they could hold on to their discoveries." Gordon said.

"This... is... complicated. It will require much talk and lot... a lot of new words. And it needs people not here. What I see... is... people for our governments must talk to people for your governments, before we are both say we own same star systems. That bad."

"Yes, we mark our finds. We will need to reach some agreement to respect the other's marks," Thor said. "I don't want to see us fight. It's bad for business, which is why we made this agreement."

"That...might be welcome. If it work for us. We never had need... before. It has only been... a problem who own what since Biters... the Biters found."

"Aggressive are they?" Thor asked. "We sort of noticed since they told us to stand still and expect to be boarded." He made rumbling grunt that was almost a growl. A very distinctive Derf sound that said what he thought of that.

Trader shrank back a little from that, but Talker nodded, if awkwardly. It was obviously a learned gesture as much as any word.

"You are difficult thing," Trader admitted. "You carry arms on ship, but not eager use them. We have to look you... look Biters. We don't want two problems not one. We don't want trade one problem for badder problem," he stopped and checked his pad searching for a better word, "for... worse one... Ah! We don't want to trade one problem for a worse one," he finally decided.

"You are traders. How long time wait if we want talk... to... you government people? If you send, ask them come now? We worry Biters make trouble, they know we wait talk more you people... If they know we wait."

"We have two representatives from governments along with us. There is the third Mother of Gordon's tribe or clan and the government of Fargone also sent an observer. You are welcome to talk to them, but we don't have anyone from the actual agency on Earth that administers claims. Just remember they have no authority over our fleet. This is a private venture, not government."

"No government people for Hinth? Talker asked.

"They are only recently leaving their home world much. We only have four among us, but I believe you'll see many more of them and much more official representation in coming years. Neither do we have anybody from the Earth Humans, and their interests are not the same as Fargone Humans."

"But the two you have... they answer questions?" Talker asked. "Allowed?"

"Yes, both their governments send out ships that make use of the claims. In a way they can give you more honest opinions about it as users, instead of trying to sell a system they control."

"Then we get... will get, more workers and start ask... asking more questions.

"OK, I'll have them asked if they will do that and arrange for them to be put on the same ship and given a place to work and equipment," Gordon agreed.

"That is... good," Talker agreed. "I also ask... will ask for more people be assigned talk them." He sighed in frustration. "I will also ask for more people to be assigned to talk to them." He considered the phrase carefully and decided it pleased him. His com alarm called for his attention.

"Ah, I am told say... inform you we got no patent, no copyright. Our people say whole thing-whole idea difficult. All strange. Don't see how work. They say all agree same your translators we have, I quote, trade secrets."

"Well, that will slow things down, but it's by no means a deal breaker," Lee observed. "If it takes more time for new ideas, new ways of doing things to be absorbed, it gives people time to adjust."

"That may be... maybe... good," Talker said. "Too much change be... can be... difficult. Need time adjust."

"I see a little line of white up near the top of the globe there," Lee pointed out. "Is that the place where the ice and snow comes down from the pole, sticking out of the round part?"

"It is. You got good eyes. Hard see here."

"Is it higher altitude? Is that why it holds the snow?"

Talker and Trader both needed to consult their pads.

"Higher, yes," Trader agreed. Most high place on planet."

"Highest," Lee supplied. "We sort of guessed that."

"It changes weather for top half the planet," Talker said.

"We met a race on the way here. They have been cutting a notch in a mountain range," Lee demonstrated doing so with her hands, "for at least three thousand, maybe four thousand of their years. Very determined people. It has already changed the weather on the downwind side of the mountains."

"You met another race... between home... and... here?" Trader looked alert, maybe alarmed.

"Yes, but they were not star-faring. They had satellites, but did not seem to have gone to other planets in their system," Gordon assured them.

"You trade with them?" Trader asked.

"No, we had too many differences. They wanted us to just give them whatever we had, with no exchange, nothing back to us. We declined to land."

Talker and Trader turned their heads in unison and looked right at each other. If they hadn't both been making the same noise they would have thought they were having some sort of medical emergency. It was Badger laughter.

"I guess we not so strange after all," Talker decided when he could talk again. "Now these others, they strange. But I am made happy. I see you didn't take from them. Could you?"

"Militarily? Well sure," Thor told him. "Three towns ran the whole world. Take them out and you have conquered them. But to what end? We didn't even know if they had anything worth trading for. So we left and may stop again another time and see if anything has changed."

"The Biters would take what they want with threats. Would try."

"That might work once. Then the people learn to hide what you want, or just stop making it if they know it will just be stolen, er taken. Going down to the planetary surface and taking it from the natives could be pretty rough too. And sooner or later they will find somebody tougher than them who will just kill them rather than let their stuff be taken. It is a shortsighted way to do things."

"Yes, well I think is later and Biters... Biters found those people," Talker said. Was that amusement he was displaying? This time Trader did the nod.

"I would hope they do not push us that far," Gordon said. "They should have learned something from trying to board us."

"Yes, they should. I understand that... word. But you should know they maybe slow to learn."

"Thank you for the warning, Talker. We will be cautious."

"What is the swirly thing there straight below us?" Lee asked, calling their attention back to the planet."

Talker consulted his pad again, but he had nothing apparently.

"It is much air and water, spinning," he said, making a swirling motion with his hand. "Much energy and very fast from our star heating water. It looks like little from here, but to be there is very different. It can... no, it be dangerous."

"Oh, it's a storm," she supplied.

"More than just a storm," Gordon told her, "it is a hurricane. Providence has a stretch of ocean that should generate cyclonic storms like that. Your island you claimed may have them pass over, so you will have to find out how bad they can be and make allowance if you build anything there."

"This Providence. Is Providence the world of Lee's kind? Humans?"

"Not the Home World, no. The Home World is called Earth or Terra in some languages. We discovered Providence and as we were telling you we have claims upon it, not just the planet and system, but private claims. Lee has five tracts of land reserved to her and I have two myself, besides some claims for plants and system claims. There is a gas giant suitable for fuel mining. It was an excellent find as living worlds are not that common. If you see one of our people wearing a green gem on their voyage rings you know they found a living world," Gordon said, giving his ear a flip so his rings rang and the Badger's eyes were drawn to them.

"But no thinking race?" Talker asked.

"No. We would have no claim if it had people."

The Badgers inspected the earring and looked at Lee too, comparing them, before checking for some words on their pads.

 Ha-bob-bob-brie seeing what they were doing lifted his neck wire and jiggled his voyage rings.

"Oh, same?" Talker asked. He seemed a little uncomfortable with Ha-bob-bob-brie.

"The same, but I have no ear... uh, outside parts, to hang them on. I assure you I hear just fine though." He did a definite squint, which was the first gesture Lee had seen which she suspected was a sign of amusement in a Hinth.

"What is blue you wear, she does not?" Talker asked Gordon.

"I discovered a water world, before I ever knew Lee's parents or her. It is a valuable find, but not like a living world. A water world takes a long time to introduce life to it."

Traders eyes got big. "You would make a whole world over?"

"We'll try. None of the worlds being terraformed are anywhere near finished and stable. When we can walk around bare faced and breath it will be done. It takes a long time to plant grasses and put tiny plants in the oceans and begin to put oxygen in the atmosphere. Give it a few hundred years."

"But, yes, it need... take... generations to do. The living now, never see end," Trader objected.

"Do you not have inheritance?" Gordon asked. "Check that word please."

It took them a few minutes for the translators to help. "We do, but none of us own a world."

"Ah, well none of us own a whole world," Gordon agreed. "But we have companies that last longer than any individual and the Claims Commission that oversees how a world is developed will give contracts to a company to seed life on a world. The company then gets quite a few of the better benefits of land and licenses to develop resources on the world. They may spend a fortune doing so, but they start making a profit quite soon. I doubt any have such a contract who don't have a positive cash flow in eight to ten years. You can own an interest in such companies and leave that to your heirs."

"We really must look... examine... these ideas in detail," Trader told him. "They different what we do, but they may be worth... adapt... adapting."

"When Humans came in contact with Derf we adapted many ideas. Some of the most profitable things are not goods you can hold in your hand, but ways of doing things. Derf had no concept of granting a license to act for you to another, but now we have power of attorney and even partial power of attorney to do one narrow thing. Now my Mothers send a trader off to do business for the clan and he can bind the clan to a contract without running back and getting their approval. Before the Humans showed up business went slowly at any distance from all the running back and forth getting the clan chop stamped on the contracts. Most just didn't bother to trade with anybody beyond a day's travel except the most important needs. Now it is common and we wonder why we didn't think of that ourselves."

"Ha! Because the Mothers are a bunch of control freaks!" Lee told him.

"Well yes. It did run contrary to their nature. But they adapted when others did better at business than them. Losing a deal because the other clan's trader could sign for them is instructive."

"This has been very pleasant and productive, but I'm tired and our translators have a lot of catching up to do. Might we go on to our hotel, rest and continue tomorrow?" Thor asked.

"Yes, we are over half way... there," Talker said getting up to lead them again. "I think Lee... will be... pleased. The rooms have... a... view of the world below."

"Does this world belong to any one race or is it shared?" Lee wondered.

"Is a Badger world. Not our home world... of course, but it has an independent Badger government. We found try... trying to govern a whole world from far away not work. Other races live here though, maybe... perhaps more on the station than the world."

"Yeah, Humans found out the same thing. That's why the Humans with us from Fargone have their own government."

Talker tucked his hand under his chin in a native gesture they were not certain of the range of meaning yet. "Do the Derf have worlds with own government?" he asked Lee, but then he looked at Gordon. Perhaps to see his reaction to the question.

"Derf have regional governments and no world government. Actually the Human home world is that way too. But I expect they will do the same on other worlds. I recently traded most rights to a rather large island on Providence to Gordon's clan, Red Tree, in exchange for the deep space explorer The Champion William and the heavy cruiser Retribution. So there will be a Derf colony there soon. When we were leaving they were planning to send an advance team to do a complete survey of the island to determine where to site their settlement and what off world organisms could be integrated into the local ecology."

"You... personally... own two starships outright?" Trader asked, looking at her – differently.

"Yes, and two thirds of the High Hopes. Gordon owns a third of her and declines to sell."

"This is... the... hotel," Talker said, cutting off that conversation. There wasn't a check in counter in the usual sense, there was a low desk with a Badger behind it and chairs in front of it shaped for different races. Apparently it was not customary to make customers stand. Indeed Talker did not address the clerk until he was seated.

"He's speaking real Badger, not Trade I think." Lee said. "The translator crashed on it."

"Yes, I beg your patience... if... I need a word..."

"Rude," Lee figured out and supplied. "Just follow your custom. We are the outsiders here. We need to learn to do things your way."

"He offers to let you view room... if... you want."

"Do you want a separate room, Thor?" Lee asked. "I'll share with you too if you want."

"That's fine. You don't snore do you?"

"Do I?" she asked Gordon and got a little negative shake of his head and a grin. The hotel clerk froze like a frightened rabbit and Talker looked distressed too.

"Sorry, Humans smile the same as Derf and we're used to each other," he said from behind a true hand. "it's really not a display of aggression, it's a sign of pleasure."

The clerk shuddered, twitchy muscles rippling down his shoulders. "I've... adjust to worse."

The key was a little square stick that might have been pad memory. You just had to have it on you, not apply it to the door. The inside was more spacious than they expected, a suite really. The view of the planet was everything they expected. There were four areas with slightly raised pads. Lee went to one right away and pushed on it. She guessed right, it was soft.

"May one adjust the pad for hard or soft?" she asked.

"That... is... an interesting idea. No they not... are not? Not sure how you'd do that."

"Another thing to sell you," Thor suggested and went to check out the other room.

"May one adjust the gravity around the sleeping pad to be less?" Lee asked.

"No again," Talker said, surprised they could tell. He started to open his mouth again, but snapped it shut. Trader had turned his head to look at him.

"The shower is neat," Thor called. They all crowded in there, the Badgers staying in the short hall since they filled it.

The shower was a glass wall to the ceiling, but not an open door to it. You had to walk in and then make a turn, so there was no way to splash outside. It had two shower heads opposed to each other that looked capable of cleaning ground cars. The toilet looked formidable for Humans but might be a bit dainty for Derf.

"This will do very nicely," Gordon informed them.

"Good. We shall see you tomorrow. After you rest and eat. Tell the... clerk... to call Talker or Trader. He'll let us know you are... ready... again."

"Thank you," Lee said. "We usually say, Good night, late in our day like this."

"Good night... now," Talker agreed and they withdrew with no further formality.

"Assume we are bugged," Thor said after they were gone.

"Of course," Gordon nodded.

"We could speak Derf," Lee suggested.

"That would just put off their understanding us some months," Thor speculated. "I'm afraid of saying something that might offend, or give them significant advantages I don't ever want them to have."

"OK," Lee agreed and she seemed to mean it. "How about notes?"

"Cameras can be tiny too," Thor said. "They know our writing, or will soon."

"This is hard. They get to go discuss everything we talked about and decide between them what to say tomorrow, consult with their translators even, and we can't."

"Maybe," Thor said, grinning freely again. "They have no idea what our snooping capabilities are, or how miniaturized. Unless they go strip themselves of every item they carried and lock themselves in a vault that is a Faraday cage I wouldn't assume we weren't listening if I were them."

"Maybe they aren't as paranoid as you," Lee said.

"It's not an illness if you can't afford to be wrong."

"It was awkward today. The conversation jumped all around and hit on so many unrelated things. I feel like we should have some system to go through a list made up ahead of time. Is it always going to be so hard to get to know new races?" Lee wondered.

"I don't see any way around it once you get past numbers, parts of the body and the common actions like come, go, stay. When you get to cultural things there can't be any standard list and if we have emotions in common enough to name them I'm delighted, Gordon said. "I'm sure we'll run into something eventually like a giant mollusk or a starfish with which we have a hard time finding anything in common."

Lee nodded, thinking about that. "Can I try the shower first?"

"Sure, I'll lay out supper and start it heating when you are gone," Gordon offered.

* * *

"This little Human… Do you think it credible she actually owns starships? Do you know of any among our races that own a private starship?" Talker asked.

"Yes, because they didn't make a big enough point of it for it to be a lie. You notice when he spoke of the other race and world they found he admitted they could have taken it by force?" Trader asked.

"Yes, I caught that."

"I thought the important point was not that they could do it, but the economy of how he described it. "Take them out." Unless I have gotten no sense of their manner of speaking, they way he said that indicates to me it wasn't just possible, but easy. They tend to say how they will do things. He didn't say bombard and reduce their cities until they are conquered, like it would be a process, it was simply trivial in his mind. Perhaps as trivial as vaporizing the rear off a Biter's war ship."

"The Hinth… He doesn't say much," Talker said. He managed to make it an accusation.

"Yes, if I'd just met them I'd think he was in charge and hiding it behind these others!"

"Because that's what one of us might do?" Talker asked.

"Yes, like the ancient tale of the king who went to parley with his rival and dressed his aide in his clothes and observed from behind," Trader reminisced.

"I don't think they are that subtle, especially the young girl. She would spill her thoughts out even if they were accusing or she found us repugnant," Talker said.

"Yes, I can imagine her saying, 'Get over it.' easily," Trader agreed.

"I'm a little afraid of Ha-bob-bob-brie . I am already starting to read the others faces and gestures, but he is sometimes freezes for long moments and I can't even see him breath."

"Honestly, I think he is more subordinate than what you think. He's just being respectful of the others. But I noticed he always moved so he had a direct line to the girl open. His eyes always are on whoever is paying attention to her," Trader explained.

"You think him a bodyguard?" Talker asked, surprised. "You think she needs one with that father?"

"Gordon is huge and powerful, but watching the bird-like one, I don't think I've ever seen him move as fast as he is capable. A couple times I saw him start to move quickly and deliberately stifle it. Of course he may not be an official bodyguard, but just value her greatly."

"Well, if the classic education my father insisted I add to all my other studies has any merit, it tells me Ha-bob-bob-brie's economy with words should be taken as a sign of wisdom," Talker said.

"Yes, well, the others, they use so many words. It is significant the times they don't. And they are richer than us," Trader concluded. "To spend treasure to slowly change planets! And is that bad? If they are rich enough not to feel the need to steal from that other race is that a bad thing? After all if we agree to trade with them might not some of that wealth rub off?"

"The little one casually let go of a chunk of platinum worth more than I make in a tenth year." Talker pointed out.

"See? And did she demand a strict accounting? Already you profit!" Trader joked.

"Oh no. I think I shall dispose of it for her, show a strict accounting and not take a fee," Talker decided. "I'd rather buy her good opinion than grasp for a petty onetime fee. She was uncomfortable feeling obligated to me. I suspect that is a cultural trait. So it is desirable for me to see she feels herself gifted, or at least not shorted. It is a handle on her," he said with a grasping motion.

"You act canny. I may make a trader of you yet."

Chapter 11

Gordon put his kit away from cooking. There was no small sink in the bathroom, so they rinsed their dishes in the shower. It felt weird but worked. The waste basket was just what it appeared to be, they checked for sure with the clerk when he brought in their water by gestures. So their wrappers went in there. They feared plugging the pipes to put them down the toilet.

Lee occupied herself on her hand pad while the Derf showered. Fed and cleaned, they felt better. Talker had instructed the hotel and they brought them three jugs of what they were assured was distilled water. It appeared to be in glass, with a metal screw cap, but a very thin strong glass. There was alien script etched right on the glass, not on a label.

"I'd like to go back to the bar," Gordon announced. "I can draw a molecule for ethyl alcohol. And I am curious about their music and seeing what their working folk look like."

"Do you think that's a good idea without one of the Badgers?" Lee wondered.

"We are not prisoners. I'd say we have been in stranger places, with less friendly natives."

"Yeah, you got that right," Lee had to allow, remembering Earth.

"I thought we might walk along, maybe stop at the observation lounge and chat on the way."

"Ah...I think that's a great idea," Lee said, clueing up.

Outside the hotel Lee asked, "How freely do you feel we can talk out here?"

"A lot more than in the room. I doubt they have bugged all the public corridors."

"I've been thinking about how Talker took my platinum for our rooms."

"Did that surprise you?"

"Not then, but I got to thinking about it. If it was us getting the platinum we wouldn't value it as much as we would have six months ago. We found a huge deposit which lowers its value and the other brown dwarf system we found is likely to have more platinum deposits too. Our attitude has shifted."

"Of course," Gordon agreed, not getting her point yet.

"What Ernie deduced with Jon's help is that these sort of brown dwarf systems may be a limited and local phenomena. Platinum is suddenly less precious to us, but the people back home don't know it yet. The point is, the Badgers seem to still value it on the same scale our people back home do."

"Oh...They haven't found any similar brown dwarf systems, or if they have, they can't exploit them."

"Yeah, they can be hard to get into by jump ship," Lee reminded him.

"So we are in a very much better situation as far as resources. At least in metals," Gordon said.

"We would do well not to reveal just how much we found and which direction," Thor said.

"Exactly. We need to take our claims to Earth and make sure all the forces of our races all support our claims. If the Badgers and their friends expand their frontier aggressively towards our territory they could be in possession and difficult to argue with, or worse, need to be dislodged," Lee explained.

"Which is precisely why you were so hot to do this entire voyage and exactly the scenario you wished to prevent," Thor acknowledged. "Damn, you were dead right about grabbing the real estate before somebody else." They came to the viewing area and passed it after Gordon tapped his ear. Lee liked it so much it might be an obvious place they'd return, and so a spot to bug.

"This suggests something else to me," Gordon told them. "We discovered two metal rich brown dwarf systems near each other. If there is a line or arch of them they may run at right angles to our line of travel. We may have just cut across them. It would be smart to search along a line drawn between them each way to see what else we may find. And in negotiating with the Badgers we should try to establish a frontier that encourages them to spread out along a plane from here, but not any closer toward us."

"But how far do they go the other way? Can they expand the other direction without feeling hemmed in? Is there anything or anyone else in their way?" Gordon asked.

"It's sixty some light years back to our last big find. We could negotiate some of that away if we need too. But the more we yield the better their chances of stumbling on a brown dwarf system as they spread out away from this point. The line or arch may cross over into their area," Lee guessed.

"Well we have a bargaining chip," Thor said. "We can agree not to expand past them here. We just need to define the orientation of the plane we'll agree not to cross. We need to see if we can get the Third Mother and the spox from Fargone to understand what is at stake and see the need to negotiate a deal. It's really not our place as traders."

A trio of Badgers passed them in the corridor going the other way. They knew their expressions well enough already to tell they were surprised. Gordon remembered not to smile.

"I guess we better just stay one night and beg off to return to our ships for consultations," Lee said. She sounded disappointed.

"How long were you thinking we'd stay?" Gordon asked, surprised.

"I was hoping we'd get to go down to the world at least briefly," she admitted.

"Maybe we will. Before we go home at least," Thor said. "I entertained similar hopes myself. Which reminds me, you notice something else different about this group of races?"

"What?" Lee asked.

"We weren't quarantined and scrubbed and tested to death before coming on their station."

"You're right. I was thinking entirely of other issues. Either they have no history of problems from alien biospheres, or they are so advanced biologically they are confident they can deal with them." Gordon suggested. "I'm not sure I want to be the one to suggest it might be a problem to them."

"We may not be so lucky. We really need to isolate and spend some time making sure we are clear when we go back to the High Hopes," Thor said. "We aren't really set up for isolation, but we should make some effort until we see it is safe. I think the High Hopes shouldn't dock or exchange shuttle traffic with the other ships. Let's say two weeks before we trade any people or supplies."

"Has there ever been a serious disease transmitted from a new world?" Lee asked.

"No," Thor admitted after a reluctant pause. "There is a sort of fungal infection from Thorn that is nasty to treat and several insect analogues on Thorn and Harmony they don't want on any new worlds, but I've always agreed it is too great a risk. If one ever is found you could wipe out a world without any immunity.

"I agree," Gordon said. "Who wants that as their legacy?"

"Crud," Lee muttered.

* * *

The bar was loud. The music was mostly percussive. There were two Badgers at the door they took to be bouncers. They looked hard at Lee and Ha-bob-bob-brie in front, frowning that subtle little back corner of the mouth curl they'd come to know on Badgers. But Thor and Gordon were right behind, shoulders touching to squeeze through the door together. Thor put a possessive true hand on Lee's shoulder and Gordon smiled at them. They were hard core and didn't flinch at Gordon's smile, but they were smart enough not to step in front of them.

They stopped inside the door, let their eyes adjust to the dim lighting, and looked the place over. A Badger, with of all things a plain old apron, hurried up to them. Gordon had his pad out and asked it for a translation for table. Miraculously it had one, complete with a graphic and he showed it to the host. He made an unmistakable come along gesture and led them to a back corner.

As they approached the table, staff was scurrying to remove odd chairs and they placed a single upholstered chair for Lee that was oversize, but likely everything was. They placed cushioned pads for the Derf and a sort of padded roll on which to lean. It was pretty impressive improvisation and quickly done too. Ha-bob-bob-brie was easiest of all, he was happy standing.

"What kind of money you want? Silver, gold or platinum?" Gordon asked. He displayed the translation screen and the three sorts of coins on his palm.

"These are good," the host said, touching the silver. But he didn't take it, apparently you paid at the end here too.

Gordon showed a screen with a water molecule and the translation. That got a yes. Then a screen with ethyl alcohol and the translation. He then showed the same word they were pretty sure was 'clear'. Look same as water, he wrote.

"Yes, yes," the host supplied a new word. Gordon tentatively entered it as vodka.

The bottle when it came was smaller than the human bottles they were used to, maybe three hundred milliliters. It was decorated though, printed directly on the glass the same as the water jugs. However where the water jugs looked like lab reagent containers the liqueur bottles were bright and had images, in this case a picture of a Badger holding a glass. Whatever it was supposed to evoke was beyond their reading yet. The glasses were plain however and impossibly delicate looking.

"Even vodka might give you an allergic reaction if potatoes made you sick," Lee worried.

"I'll just touch a single drop to my tongue. If it gets irritated or if I feel any ill effects I'll stop." He promised.

Ha-bob-bob-brie volunteered, "I have a very good nose. If I may smell it I can warn if it has anything toxic. I smell taint in food long before the cooks declare something is spoiled."

"Nothing," he declared after putting it right by his nostrils. "Not much flavor either."

"This is like when you took aspirin with my folks." Lee said, disapproving.

"I haven't heard that story," Thor said, interested.

"They made their first good claim and all got so drunk together they had to declare a full day shut-down to recover. Everybody was hung over and they took aspirin, so Gordon took the bottle chugged a handful down guesstimated on his larger mass. It didn't kill him, but he had no idea."

"This was after you were old enough to witness and remember it?"

"Oh no, long before me. He admitted it to Gwen, the vet they called in when he got shot in the head on the moon."

"Well that explains a lot," Thor said, looking at Gordon askance.

"It was a silly antique .38," Gordon said, frowning. "It didn't even give me a concussion, just a headache. It certainly didn't affect my mentality or judgment."

"It sounds like there wasn't anything to impair..."

"It worked. And this booze has no effect on my tongue. I'll try a little more. I wonder if they have ice if you want it?" He poured maybe ten milliliters in the glass and smelled it.

"Down the hatch," he announced and threw it back. "Good stuff. I can't taste any hint of what it was distilled from. Probably run through the still at least three times."

The waiter came back and asked if they were happy with the alcohol. After a little back and forth they assured him it was fine but they were proceeding cautiously. He agreed that solid cold water was available and hurried off to get it.

"I imagine in a couple years you'll be able to come in here and order a ham sandwich and a beer," Gordon said, wistfully. He was ready tonight.

"Look, look," Lee said. "One of the cat analogs. I don't want to point." They got a better look at it than any of the videos. The nose was more pointed than a real cat, the ears the best match and the whiskers actually thicker, almost like a moustache, but it was sleek and it moved beautifully.

"I got that on my spex," Thor said. "Luke will be happy to see it."

Badgers drank from a glass, like they'd been given, Sasquatch used a straw and Bills tipped a footed tube that looked like a piece of laboratory ware. While they were inspecting the others the others were inspecting them. It seemed pretty certain a lot of them had not heard of Humans and Derf, or seen any video of them from the interest level. This was Ha-bob-bob-brie's first time on station so he had to be a novelty.

Several people looked over their shoulder gawking, and abruptly turning their backs. The noise level went down. They couldn't see the entrance from their table, but someone had apparently made a grand entry and there wasn't anybody waving them over or happy to see them.

Two Biters stomped into the bar. Stopping in the middle they looked around. The host didn't greet them or offer to seat them. When the first Biter saw Gordon and Thor seated behind the table with Lee between them he nudged the other one, then turned and addressed them.

"I don't want to drink with you," the translator rendered it.

"I wasn't going to invite you," Gordon answered, amused.

This required a pause to analyze.

"Ah, to say differently. We do not want to drink in the same place."

"That's fine with us. Don't let the door hit your butt on the way out." Thor suggested.

"We propose you leave."

"We were here first," Lee pointed out.

"It speaks. I thought anything so small a pet," the Biter said.

"Wow, I can't believe they have pet in the data base already," Thor said.

"Perhaps you need removed," the Biter said, actually taking a step toward them. He had some sort of weapon at shoulder, not his waist, being built low and front heavy like a Bulldog. He touched it, but mercifully refrained from drawing it.

Ha-bob-bob-brie's hand went up with almost disinterested slowness to the sword handle over his shoulder, and he bent his knees a little. Lee made a palm down 'hold' gesture under the edge of the table where the Biter wouldn't see, hoping he understood it. He seemed to, hand stopping, but not dropping. He just twitched one eye and was very still.

Gordon stood up. He made a process of it, slowly, so they tracked his face up until it was near the overhead and their heads were tilted back. He looked a lot smaller sitting on the deck behind the table, leaning over on a cushion. Thor didn't bother to get up. Gordon didn't really need any backup. He had a pistol he ignored and his heavier middle hand with the claws went to the ax handle just behind the head. The double bit ax was not simply ceremonial, it was fifteen kilograms sharpened to a shaving edge, on a two-thirds meter composite shank. The cutting edge was an arc as long as Lee's forearm and had a little hook on the bottom like a can opener, for peeling open armor. It should work just as well on the sort of hard carapace covering the Biters, who didn't step any closer.

"Please, honored customers, allow me to show you to a private room," the host begged. It was interesting, he gave a little bow. They hadn't seen that before, but Lee noticed he didn't get between them. "No need to be served in the common public room."

"Very well, lead on," the Biter commanded. He didn't look at Gordon again, just dismissed him from his mind to all appearances, but Lee bet he'd remember.

Gordon made himself comfortable again and tossed back a third sample of the local vodka, about fifty milliliter this time. It didn't seem to have anything toxic to Derf. Lee wasn't so bold and noticed Thor refrained from trying it too. But Ha-bob-bob-brie pushed his glass over and took it without any hesitation. They should have brought some of their own brandy or bourbon. It might even be something they could offer for trade goods.

Lee looked across Thor and just mouthed 'thank you' at Ha-bob-bob-brie. He did the little scrunchy thing again with his eyes and nodded. That was definitely amusement.

"Is everything satisfactory?" Their host was back with more ice.

"Entirely. I'm sorry we aren't enjoying the food and other drinks. We just have to wait for some testing to make sure nothing will make us ill. Your patience with us not spending much this visit is appreciated. We'll be back I'm sure."

"You are smart to be cautious. The Badgers can drink the spirits the Sasquatch make, but not the reverse. And the Bills have their own sort that nobody else can stand, although it doesn't make them sick. It just tastes bad to others. Will your races be trading distilled spirits eventually?"

"I was just thinking that. I wish we'd have thought to bring our own and we'd have been happy to pay you to serve them. I'm sure they will be a trade item. All three of our races have ethyl alcohol based drinks. Some just fermented and some distilled. I'll bring a couple by next time we go to our ship. Lee here prefers a drink called Bourbon from the Human home world and we Derf like a sweet brandy, our own or Human's. The Hinth make these bitter spirits that set my teeth on edge, but Humans like to mix a small amount in drinks to cut the sweet. That didn't translate well did it?" Gordon said looking at the screen.

"Set your teeth on the edge of what?" their host asked, baffled.

"A colloquial expression, not literal. It seems an unpleasant feeling, sort of like meeting Biters," he said, getting a little dig in.

"The bitters are strong," Ha-bob-bob-brie allowed, "But it wakes you up in the morning!"

"I thank you so much for not letting things keep going the direction they were," the host said to Gordon. He gave Ha-bob-bob-brie however a very wary look.

"Seems to me you are the one who defused things and very skillfully I'd add." That took some work from the translators, to convey what a fuse was, but it was well worth adding to the database.

"We'll go back to our hotel now. I hope we do more business on a bigger scale soon. Take whatever you feel proper," Gordon offered, holding a large hand with Fargone silver coins out to their host.

He waved it away with a gesture Human or Derf found normal and needed no translation.

"Lots of time to make money later. It was worth seeing the Biter freeze in his tracks to host you. Take the rest of the bottle back to your hotel please. Perhaps show it to your shipmates."

"Thank you. We'll be back soon."

"How is it that the barkeeper speaks better English than Talker or Trader? Lee asked.

"It's the translation program," Gordon explained. "I was watching and it updated three times even while we were speaking with Talker and Trader. They seemed to speak better when we left them than when we first met. They do have a lot of people and expert systems working away at it full time."

Out in the corridor, away from the entry, Thor looked around to see nobody was close to overhear. "Is it just me or are the Biters not very well liked?"

"I didn't see anybody buying them a round. But quite a few seemed afraid of them," Lee said. "They quickly turned their back and minded their own business. But most of them seemed comfortable to look at us, which is odd because I got the impression a lot of people haven't heard about us yet. They must not feature us on what passes for news."

"Or these guys in the bar might be like freight movers and vacuum rats back home. They work long hours and want a beer on the way home and don't watch the news for days at a time," Lee decided.

"That could be. And we have no reputation yet, but the Biters have a bad one," Gordon said.

"Oh you have a reputation now," Lee assured him. "There wasn't a one of them in that bar who needed to read the translation on your pad, to know you were ready to do to a little trim job on the Biter's butt," she said, making a chopping motion, "just like we did to their ship."

Ha-bob-bob-brie caught her eye in a bit when the others weren't looking. He made the same chopping motion down by his side. It really seemed to amuse him.

* * *

Back at the hotel Gordon inquired about placing a call to his ship. He was informed there were com connections to use at dock, but apparently they were not in use as that dock showed no response. He left a message with Talker to inform his ship they had com connections if they could get or make copies of the connectors and the signal protocols. The hotel offered a courier to run to dock and Gordon sent a message to bring the third Mother and the spox from Fargone in while they slept and they'd be back to the ship in the morning to meet with them.

The lights took some getting used to. They were hard to get dim without going completely dark. Eventually they gave up and turned them off setting a little flashlight Lee carried shining in a bare corner of the room with a ration bar over it as a shade. It gave just enough light to find the bath in the night.

There was no lock that they could see so Lee made a stack of self heating meals in front of the door and placed the half empty bottle of vodka on top. It should make a racket if somebody opened it in the night. She resolved to get a proper wedge like she'd seen her father use long ago, if she had to have one made on the ship. Ha-bob-bob-brie observed these preparations and cocked his head askance. "Little sister do not concern yourself with that. One place is as good as another to stand and sleep. I shall just stand in front of the door so that if it should swing in during the night I'll be awakened."

"But you might get hurt," Lee worried.

"Honest, I'm not nearly as delicate as you seem to think," Ha-bob-bob-brie assured her.

* * *

The next morning Gordon had the hotel call Talker and Trader. He suggested they bring breakfast and talk while they made their own breakfast. By the time all of them were showered and in fresh clothing the Badgers were at the door. It had a speaker that let them announce themselves rather than a bell or buzzer.

Talker was carrying a box with a handle that looked pretty much like a small ice chest. They adjusted the table in the common area to a better height, which the travelers hadn't known was possible and laid out their breakfast, both sitting on one side.

"Oh my, Gordon, Thor, you have to see this. The Badgers eat sushi," Lee said.

"Is not offensive?" Talker asked, worried.

"Not at all. It's an art form in the Japanese culture. It is visually attractive, it looks good, as well as being good to eat."

"The Biters would be offended it has vegetation in it," Trader told them.

"It wouldn't bother me if it had some Biter in it," Thor said, darkly.

That made the Badgers laugh so hard one rolled on his back.

"That is bad. So, so," Trader had to search his pad for human words. "Bad, nasty, uncivilized, hateful, unkind, vulgar. I wish I'd thought of it first."

"I'm sure it would make you sick early in the morning," Talker said. That started them laughing all over again.

Gordon was setting up to fix their own breakfast. "We have vegetation in our food too. This is scrambled eggs and has pepper and onions, both vegetables, in it." He showed them the foil package with a picture on it, mixing water in it.

"What are eggs? I see eggs in the biology section of our dictionary, but they are so tiny, they can't be practical for food."

"Birds lay huge eggs to reproduce. They gestate externally. These are chicken eggs, because they are cheap and have a mild flavor. They are about this big," he said, holding up his finger and thumb cocked apart.

"Can you show me a picture of a chicken, please?" Talker asked.

The picture Gordon brought up was a Rhode Island Red.

"How big?"

Gordon enclosed a volume with his hands. "Humans eat the bird too, but they are too much work in my opinion. Not enough meat on them for a Derf and all sorts of bones to deal with."

"The Hinth is a bird?" Talker asked, looking over both shoulders. Ha-bob-bob-brie was in the bath.

"Very bird-like, but not related to Earth birds at all. But I see where you are going. They do lay eggs. In fact they have three sexes, male, female and nest sitters. They aren't happy to discuss it though, it's something they get all stressed and unhappy to discuss."

"I wonder how he feels about you eating eggs?" Talker asked.

"That's a very good question. In fact I never considered it. I'm glad you asked. It might be upsetting to see us cooking shell eggs. One egg pretty much looks like another. He has to have seen these freeze-dried sort in the ship's mess before, so he either doesn't know the source or doesn't care. Please don't enlighten him."

That meant Gordon had to explain freeze-drying while he heated sausage patties from individual pouches, hash browns, coffee, biscuits and freeze-dried orange juice. It sounded like the freeze drying process was going to be something they could sell also. With everything made they all sat and ate. Nobody spoke for a little, too busy enjoying it. Trader noted their things smelled good, but they would have to have testing to be safe too.

"This is good time to tell you," Talker stopped. "This is a good time to tell you," he corrected. "After more talk, we are certain we do not have anything like patents, the Bills have something similar just for their world. They have an administrator who your people say is pretty much the same as a king, or in their case a queen. She can by ancient custom grant somebody an exclusive use of their invention for life, but it only applies to Bills on their own world."

"Not much good for us," Lee said.

"Yes, but all of our races have similar contract law and have agreed what parts to share. So your culture's idea of protecting a process can be done by what your people call a non-disclosure agreement."

"Oh? I didn't think of that because the law isn't as strongly defended everywhere as others," Gordon told him. "That and non-compete agreements are often attacked by Human lawyers as to restrictive and denying a person the right to make a living. Humans are big on rights. On Derfhome the Mother's word is law and you better not break it. I have no idea what the Hinth do. They have only recently started traveling and doing much business off their world, so a lot of their culture and law isn't common knowledge yet. It took a lot of effort to recruit and supply the few we have."

"Why did you make the effort then?" Trader asked. "Do they have some rare skill?"

"I hoped it would speak well of us that we could get along, if we met others, like you."

"It does, but the way you damaged the Biter vessel makes us worry. Tell us, with no evasion. I made sure that was the right word. Do you war with ships?" Talker demanded.

"Yes."

"Well that is clear enough. I don't know if I should be happy there is someone to counter the Biters or afraid you will fight with them."

"There is no profit in fighting. This is why we developed the claims system I told you about. It wasn't developed because we can't or won't fight. We do it because we are so good at fighting that it is much better not to."

When they didn't say anything for awhile Gordon said, "No evasion."

"That is a frightening self-evaluation. All three races?" Talker asked.

"It isn't strictly by race," Lee spoke quickly wanting to be the first to tell him, so she could soften it. "Gordon's clan just had a war with the Earth nation from which my parents came and with who they kept their ship registry. But I am a citizen of Red Tree Clan and most of the crew fighting in Red Tree ships were Derfhome or Fargone Humans. So we fought mixed for race, but united by culture and law. Red Tree hadn't fought a war in over a thousand years, so they are hardly war-like."

"That is very hard for us to understand."

"You will find a lot hard to understand. There are different human cultures I find stranger than Gordon's tribe. The Fargoer's are much different than any Earth culture and there is an entire world of Japanese. I could talk about how strange they are for days. There are several hundred nations on Earth and honestly some of them contain multiple cultures. The Swiss for example, even being a tiny nation, use four languages and have several regions with different ways of life. Are any of your worlds like that?"

"No, no evasion here either. We all seem to have made our way of life and language all the same, what is your word?"

"Homogenous."

"Thank you, homogenous, before we got star flight."

"New Japan is pretty homogenous. They like it that way." Lee said. "But that's how Japan is back on Earth. They have never welcomed foreigners in."

"But somebody said something about the Biters," Gordon said, "I can't remember exactly what, but indicating they fight among themselves."

"Yes, they do, but they are pretty much the same. They have one language and they have similar tech. They even pretty much have the same taste in food and music and how they build homes," Talker admitted, "but yes, they fight among themselves clan to clan."

"Why?" Lee asked.

"Talker looked at Trader for help. "I think they enjoy it. It might be as simple as they want to take what the other Biters have."

"They will find we don't fight for fun," Thor told him, sounding disgusted.

"We saw the Biter's ship. We don't understand how you did that at all," Trader revealed.

"Good. Maybe we won't have to do it again. We're not going to give lessons how."

"With us no, but the Biters I'm not so sure. They sent a message home that they were very badly damaged. I'm not sure what sort of a response they will get. If one ship comes to rescue them and see how bad the damage is we will be relieved. But if a fleet comes we are afraid they will fight you immediately, rather than try to talk at all. It seems likely."

"We'd say it is their nature. All I can promise is if we see a fleet we will withdraw from the station. We don't want to endanger you or your station," Gordon promised.

"You will not flee for your home regions" Trader asked.

"No evasion again. Is that Biter ship a war ship? Is it a real indication, is it a typical sample, of what they can do?"

The Badgers checked the words carefully. "Yes, it is armed like all of their ships. Some smaller, very few bigger, but we have seen them fight each other. They are all much the same."

"Then we have no reason to run. They might as well line up and try to whip Thor's butt with a wooden stick and an abundance of fearlessness," Lee said with a sweep of her hand inviting them to look at him.

They both looked, considering Thor thoughtfully. "Those poor Biters," Trader said.

A sudden horrible snuffling made then think Ha-bob-bob-brie was choking on something. Turned out that was Hinth uncontrolled laughter.

"We are going to our ship after eating," Gordon told them. "We are keeping the room, but we will send the third Mother and representative from Fargone to stay here. They have some authority to speak for their governments. You may have to ask them what the exact limits of their authority are as I don't know. I am going to encourage them to suggest you join in the Claims arrangement for the registration and exploitation of new worlds and resources. You'd have the full force of all the members to hold any claims of your own. That includes any problems you'd have with the Biters over claims."

That got a visible reaction. They even looked at each other.

"However, they speak for their governments, but not for our fleet. Just remember that please. They may have other suggestions or proposals, but that's between them and you."

Chapter 12

The dock looked the same as when they walked out, except there was a small easel with a screen on it to the left of the lock. It displayed - The deep space explorer High Hopes, The Nation of Red Tree – Derfhome registry, in English. Below it had the same in the local trade language. Under all in small print it said, departure unscheduled. Beside the sign was a Cinnamon Derf in modern armor with a 20mm assault rifle and ax. He had gold earrings.

On the other side of the lock was a Fargone Space Marine in full armor augmented with a light jump frame and what looked to be a grenade launcher with powered magazine. He had his gloves off and his ballistic face shield locked up to show his humanity. Like a lot of Fargoers he loved Tats and had a ribbon of color across his cheeks that went right over his nose, with bright geometric shapes inside the ribbon area.

As they approached they were amused there was an actual line of Badgers and Bills and even one of the exotic Cat like humanoids waiting to have their picture taken with one or both of the guards. As they watched a Badger couple stood on each side of the Derf and insisted he tuck their young one in the crook of his heavy middle arm while their friend took a picture. He had plenty of arms fortunately. One to hold the kid, one to hold his rifle and upper arms to spread behind the Badgers and put a true hand on their outside shoulders while they leaned in for the shot. They held hands across him under his middle arms. The Badgers seemed to hold hands a lot, whether walking or standing in line.

"Good morning Commander, I hope you don't mind," the Marine said. "We're just doing a little goodwill mingling with the natives. We've had to turn down a few who wanted to pay us. At least I think it was money, but that didn't seem particularly friendly to me to accept anything. I also had a few barter offers on my flashlight and my ink pen, but I turned those down too."

"You're doing exactly right," Gordon told them. "We saw how the Biters got treated in a bar and believe me the locals don't have any love of them. I can see all your weaponry and uniforms have put the fear in them," he said sarcastically.

He shouldn't have slowed down. As soon as he stopped a Bill and a Badger who seemed to be together rushed forward and demanded a picture with Gordon. He turned and did like the guard putting true hands on each side, but unthinking he smiled, as he was used to doing for Humans and Derf both. The picture taker squealed in delight and rushed to show the picture on the camera to two who had been looking at the lens, not Gordon. It was so popular he posed for three more who requested he smile for them too before he could get away and in the lock.

Inside Thor had a thoughtful look. "You know, next time you do that, the smile is good, but instead of putting a true hand on their far shoulder use your lower arm and spread your claws out wide so they show well in the picture," he suggested, demonstrating with his own ten centimeter gut rippers.

"That hardly seems the picture of friendship," Gordon said, nose all scrunched up. He was still embarrassed he'd forgotten and smiled, and was confused why they liked it.

"No, he's right," Lee assured him. "They'd love it. In fact call the guards on their helmet coms and tell the Derf to do that."

"But why?" Gordon asked, confused.

"Humans do the same thing," Lee explained. "We have roller coasters and scary rides and tunnels you go through where fake frightening things jump out and scare the snot out of you. Humans enjoy a good adrenaline jolt, as long as they are really sure it's fake. This is very encouraging. It says word has gotten around we are safe and friendly and not at all like the Biters. Having somebody big and scary as hell is great if he's on your side. Unless somebody does something stupid I think we have established good relations with these guys. Those pictures are going to get shown around at whatever corresponds to a coffee break, sent in a text message to their aunt and uncle and hung by the monitor where they work. Shared at whatever they have for schools. You can't buy good will promotion like this."

"Do you think Talker and Trader have been pitching us to everybody?"

"I doubt it, I bet word got around how the Biter got in your face in the bar. Gossip goes around faster than putting it on the top of the video news at every hour. It wasn't lost on anybody that you'd have put the ax to him if the silly fool had yanked that pistol out. I think you took the high ground showing such restraint when he got in your face. None of them like the Biters, but nobody there wanted any part of confronting them. I think they feel you were the good guy and identified with you, vicariously," she said, smiling at a memory of that word, as did Gordon.

Thor had no idea what they were grinning about, but had his own memory. "You know something? This reminds me of when I went to Earth as a tourist. There was this place in London where they had guards in old uniforms with bright red jackets and just ridiculously big hats. Almost all the humans in our tour went up and had their picture taken beside the guard. It was very similar."

"There ya go," Lee said, spreading her hands. "It's great. It tells me we think a great deal alike. We can get along with these folks," she predicted.

* * *

The third Mother and Fargone rep were eager to talk with the Badgers. They listened to the theory about brown dwarf systems and the need to limit these new race's expansion further into Human/Derf space. Both felt that was desirable even without the brown dwarf issue. Both were willing to commit to supporting Badgers or others entering the claims system, to the point of committing their ships to stay on until others could come from their worlds. Thor pointed out there was likely going to be a Human/Derf presence in the brown dwarf systems quickly for mining, so the response time from there to the frontier and this station would be much faster soon if they did call for aid.

Gordon had a better selection of food and amenities peculiar to their races assembled to take to the rooms, also, a pad that could only be viewed from a very narrow angle and a keyboard cover. It was to let them exchange sensitive things they didn't want overheard. He supplied a couple bottles of vodka that should be safe to share and a good supply of the various coins too.

"I think I should point out something," Lee said after listening to them a bit. "We don't want to exclude them from our space. It would be good to see them come to our worlds to trade or visit, just like we want to here. But we want them to respect our claims. Tell them they will find our claims beacons if they expand towards our home worlds."

"Why haven't they gone past this star system?" the third Mother wondered. They have to have been here some time to have both a presence on world and a large station built. Why would they stop and consolidate here?"

"You might ask them," Gordon suggested.

"I have a suspicion," Prosperity White said. They all looked at him expectantly. "I bet it will be because of these Biters. Meeting them was recent, although they haven't given us exact dates. I bet they stopped sending out unarmed ships with the danger of piracy hanging over their heads."

"I need to understand something for sure. Is that ship typical of what the Biters have or are they going to send some super advanced war ships in when they get word of what happened to their ship and wipe us out?" the Third Mum asked.

"The Badgers swear it's as good as they have and nearly the biggest too. I can't see where it would be to their advantage to lie about this," Gordon said.

"So we don't have to be afraid if they send reinforcements to this system in force?" she asked.

"Not unless they send hundreds of ships and overwhelm us. We don't have the missiles to shoot that many and the greasers and peashooters don't cycle fast enough. In which case we'd need to retreat."

She nodded. "Just be sure we have a free line of retreat then."

"I intend to," Gordon assured her.

"Very well. Do you want to call your Talker and Trader and we'll go set up in your hotel room?"

"Yes, but just Lee and I will walk along with you too, for a ways. I have a merchant along the way I want to stop and show some trade goods."

* * *

The bar was open, but not very busy at this hour. The host called a fellow from the back rooms. With a little help from the translation software he made them understand they were business partners. Gordon couldn't say their names when he asked. The third try reduced them to laughter.

"What does your name mean?" he demanded. "I can use the English word for it and then you'll have it to use for the future. I don't go by my Derf name in English either."

Their host of the other day made known he was Stubborn. He had Dauntless offered as an alternative and rejected it on careful examination. Stubborn is not regarded as an undesirable quality among the Badgers," he explained. "I was given that on our naming day when the last of my three brothers finally opened his eyes. My parents gave me the name hoping I'd have that quality."

 His partner was named Lucky. That made Gordon and Lee look at each other. "You have naming customs very much like our Fargoers," he told the barkeeps.

They set vodka and ice in front of Gordon and he poured himself one although it was early. After a long cold sip he sat the glass to the side and got out his goods.

"This is Brandy, made in my own clan, Red Tree. The color is what we call pink. It is aged with a local berry in it, but poured off after the flavor has infused. A lot of Derf like it sweetened." They used the translation program and got across the names of various sugars.

"Big bottles!" The newly met owner observed. He pulled a short pipette out of a purse like case on his belt. He did like Gordon had the day before, sticking the glass tube in the brandy and sealing the top with a finger to trap a few drops, putting them on his tongue. That was the first they'd seen a Badger had a tongue. They kept their lips pretty tight speaking.

"Subtle," the Badger labeled it. When he tried to identify the taste they had to retreat to the program and bringing up pictures. They had flowers too it turned out, but no bees. The same function was served by something very similar to a humming bird. They expressed interest in honey, but Gordon had no idea if they had any on the ship. A call established the galley had a twenty five kilogram bucket of it and he arranged to have a sample delivered to them. The cook warned them it was filtered but insisted on cooking it before he sent it, informing them it had traces of bacteria and even botulism spores, which in such small amounts were no danger to mature Derf or Humans.

The bottle of bourbon had them more excited because it was colored darker. That apparently was a favorable thing in their own distillates. The Badger regretted sampling the brandy since he'd have rather the bourbon, but he didn't want to try both. If he had any ill reaction they wouldn't know which had provoked it. His partner took up the duty and said very confidently it would sell well.

"You mentioned bourbon is Lee's favorite drink. Pour yourself a drink if you wish, it is a plenty big sample. Do you pour it on ice?" he wondered.

"You can drink it neat, without anything else that is, or on ice or mixed with a little water or a sweet beverage. We have a lot of sweet drinks that have carbon dioxide dissolved in the water so that when you open them they bubble for awhile."

They had all the words in the program, but the concept was novel to them. The only thing they had similar was a sparkling wine from one small region that was a novelty. It had never achieved the popularity of Champagne.

"I'll have just a small one," Lee allowed. "Most of us follow the custom of not drinking alcohol in the early part of the day. Some Humans are subject to becoming addicted to alcohol and they view drinking in the morning with suspicion."

That horrified both owners, who observed that they did a very healthy business with breakfast, admitting it helped them face the start of the day many times. Lee poured a scant shot over ice.

"This is the Hinth spirits," Gordon continued. He pushed the bottle across the table. It was a flat bottom triangular flask, unsuited to shipping and a horrible waste of space. The neck of the flask was just the right length for a Hinth hand, too long for Humans and too short for Derf. They cited tradition and refused to license it to other containers.

"It is what we call bitter," Gordon cautioned. "Humans mix a tiny amount with sweet drinks to offset the sweetness a little. Derf generally taste it once and that is sufficient." He explained what a chaser was and suggested they have one handy when they tried the nasty green fluid.

Lucky allowed they'd try it later.

"This is rum," Gordon said, sitting his last bottle on the table. It was a flat thin bottle to maximize the area a label could be displayed. The big bright gold and red colors of the label caught their interest, as well as the image of a sailing ship and a fellow burying a chest full of the colorful bottles. They commented on it.

"This company usually has five or six labels out in the market at any one time. People collect them and once a label is retired it isn't used again and the price of a clean undamaged bottle with the seal intact goes up if it was popular. That's a custom peculiar to Fargone. Fargoers are big on rum and there are a lot of brands, both lighter and darker than this one."

"These words are in the pad, but I'm afraid I'm getting it wrong. Perhaps together they mean something different than separately? I had that recently, a colloquial expression I was told."

"Probably not," Gordon admitted embarrassed. He then tried to explain the Fargoer sense of humor and why a brand called Poison Pirate Piss would sell so well.

When their understanding finally clicked they went into another round of laughter. They cried when they laughed really hard, just like Humans.

"Fargoers, they joke like Bills. Go get the Bill's liquor," Lucky ordered Stubborn, touching the back of his hand. "You know which one I mean, and a food menu for Bills."

The bottle he brought back was blue glass and it had a label showing what had to be a dead Bill on the floor, sort of cartoonish, eyes rolled up in his head and tongue laying flat on the floor out of his open bill. The writing on the label looked a little like Chinese ideographs. "This means, Care No More, in their language," Lucky explained. We also have brands named Wife's Tears and Parasite Cure."

"Yep, they are some sick puppies too," Lee agreed.

"Same kind of thing," Lucky said, pointing to an item on the Bill's portion of the food menu. "Is a big seller for us, Road Kill sandwich," he translated. "A generous portion of mystery meat, with our award winning sauce, guaranteed to disguise its origins from your sensitive palate," he quoted. "It is usual to list the main ingredients in a dish. This one says, Don't ask."

"Human's go through a phase like that when they are young, especially the boys, but most of them grow out of it and move on to adult humor before they hit puberty," Lee explained. "We had movies for that sort of young boys in our ship database, but I learned to identify and avoid them. My dad bought a huge collection of all sorts of videos, not all of which any of us appreciated."

"You don't want to watch the Bill humor channels on the video selections," Stubborn warned.

"We have thousands of food items too," Gordon said, trying to take the conversation back to a more profitable line. "I suspect the distilled spirits will be far easier to test for adverse reactions. But we can offer preserved foods and spices. I'll have a bunch of samples delivered from our stores."

"Be sure to send them Spam," Lee suggested. "Even the Hinth buy Spam."

"What is Spam?" Lucky asked.

"Mentioning mystery meat made me think of it," Lee said. "It is a meat...product. You can probably sell it to the Bills with no problem, if they can digest it. It is square and in a metal can and now they make a Derf sized can," she said demonstrating with her hands, "because the Human sized cans are so skimpy you need four cans to make a decent Derf sandwich."

"We'll send samples to our testing labs," Lucky promised.

"Some of these things, like the liquor, are luxury goods and I can see us doing an actual trade in them. High cost won't matter with them because they are a novelty. But some things like food plants we are going to have to trade seeds or starter plants and hope to get something in return we can take back home and grow. We can patent plants, but I understand you can't here," Gordon said.

"Any one plant may not be worthwhile," Lee pointed out. "Safer to trade ten of our common food plants for ten of theirs. Chances are out of ten something will have value."

"Do you have somebody who is a farmer? Who knows food production?" Gordon asked.

"We can get such a person up from the planet," Stubborn assured him.

"How about you get that guy and I'll find somebody in our fleet who is a farmer, or at least a gardener and we'll let them negotiate separately from us to pick ten plants to trade?"

"I'll have him up here tomorrow. Where will this take place?"

"I'll rent another hotel room for the fellow and they can meet there or here in your bar. Whichever or both as they like. Does that work for you?"

"Sure, we'll have him here tomorrow and he'll stay with my family while he is on station. We have a big place and Badgers have family in and out all the time. It's our nature. In fact he will probably be family. We do business that way too. Lucky here is family."

"That's interesting. Our whole expedition is basically a family business so I understand."

"It is? How many members have ownerships?"

"Why Lee here owns two thirds and I own a third. But everybody who came along gets paid shares from whatever profits we show. They are not liable for any losses however. If we don't make anything she and I would have had to bear the loss. We are already assured of gains however from claims we made before we ever got here."

Lucky looked at Lee and looked at Gordon. He looked at Stubborn who looked away and refused his stare. "But Lee is Human and you are Derf, do I understand that correctly?"

"Yes, but she's my adopted daughter, so she's family. Do you not have adoption?" he asked.

"We do, but not across species. I mean..." Lucky had a wide eyed look a little different from any they'd seen before. Gordon suspected it was confusion and maybe a little consternation. "I don't know of any law against it, but I've never heard of one happening before. I think many of our people would have a hard time understanding why you'd do so."

"I grew up away from all other people on an exploration ship, but not in a fleet like we are doing now, just my parents and Gordon," Lee told him. "When my parents died he was the only adult I knew. The only other person I'd ever been around. Would it have been a kindness to give me away to strangers?" she asked.

"Apparently not," Lucky said. "I will have to take some time to think on that to not feel uncomfortable with it. I ask your patience. It is a very hard new concept to absorb."

"No problem," Lee said. "Some Humans had a hard time allowing it. Some Derf too."

The owners pressed another bottle of vodka on them when they left.

* * *

"Do you want to rent a different room, since the negotiators are in ours, or go back to the ship?"

"It was interesting, but I'd be happy to be back in my cabin," Lee told Gordon. "I don't care about the gravity and it was almost like camping out. I'll feel better being able to speak freely too."

"Good, I'm happy to go back too. I wasn't comfortable being away from my command so long."

When they got back to their lock some of the excitement over the new aliens had died down. There was a single Badger talking at length with both guards. As he suspected the Badger was a reporter when he asked. He thought the Bill standing off had equipment that looked more professional than the people had before. They begged off an interview claiming to be tired and hungry.

As they walked along Lee decided to tell Gordon what she'd been thinking. "If you want Ha-bob-bob-brie to be available for others to see, I think you should train him to a bridge job. Running him up to the flight deck for a video and then right back to doing maintenance... It doesn't feel right to me. Also, when we get back are you going to try to recruit more Hinth for our ships?"

"I don't know. I don't know what we are going to do with our ships when we get back."

Lee looked like she was going to say something, and then changed her mind. "Well they'll be used for something. Starships are too valuable to sit idle." He didn't argue that.

"Why? What does that have to do with Ha-bob-bob-brie's duties?" Gordon asked.

"Well if you were going to send him to recruit among the Hinth it would look a lot better to have him say he had a more responsible position. Do you think their top people will get all excited at the possibility of doing suit maintenance? I can speak to the others on the Retribution. I haven't even asked what they are doing over there. In fact you haven't mentioned how they are doing, if they've fit in and adapted OK. I guess they might be possible recruiters too."

"They might be the better ones to recruit," Gordon allowed, thoughtfully. "They seem to think Ha-bob-bob-brie is insane by their strictest standards, so maybe he wouldn't be the best recruiter. Triads like them would likely be turned off by a solitary Hinth."

"But there must be other single Hinth," Lee guessed. "Maybe working with Humans and Derf would be a great opportunity for singleton Hinth, who don't fit in their own society."

"That's an interesting idea. Ha-bob-bob-brie seems able to discuss his status without getting upset. Rather he seems amused at the other Hinth's discomfort. If he's insane I find insane Hinth much more adaptable. I'll just ask these things of him directly and see what he says. Maybe he doesn't want a command job or to recruit. I'll put it to him before I ask Captain Aristotle to quiz the other Hinth."

"Good. I feel better about it already," Lee said.

There were lots of messages and Thor waiting for them at the ship.

"We have some people lobbying really hard to have some liberty. Trouble is I don't trust a number of them to have the sense to interact with strange new races. I was very careful in setting up who would go on the dock. That worked out really well. I don't need people going on station who were probably well known back home to the Bunko Squad. They'd set up a table and start playing Three Card Monte with the natives and make us a stink to them for a few coins."

"How did we end up recruiting this bunch?" Gordon asked.

"Well, we picked them for skills, I guess most of the people who wanted to come are naturally risk takers. And I didn't realize Fargoer's are as fanatical about gambling as humans are about football. But it isn't something I want to expose our new friends to this early. Maybe we can find some way to warn them about it and ease them into it."

"I think it's the sort of problem that will fix itself," Lee said. "After a few Badgers loose the rent money and can't figure out how it is done so slick, word will get around."

"That doesn't spread a lot of goodwill for the fleet though," Thor objected.

"I'll think on it," Gordon told him. "I'm on good terms now with a couple bar owners. Maybe we can provide a destination sort of leave without letting them all run wild in the corridors."

* * *

Prosperity White and the Third Mother of Red Tree settled into the suite and invited the Badgers to call whenever they wished. They came very quickly and they found they could drink the vodka without any problem. They spend some time asking what Prosperity did on his ship and at home as well as Madonna, which was the Third Mum's human name.

That led to the Talker and Trader explaining their personal life in some detail. Both sides felt better to try to understand the others personalities. They sat relaxed, holding hands.

They finally arrived at lunch time for all of them without doing any real business. It was interesting, everyone got hungry again in about five hours.

The Human and Derf shared dishes, which was of some interest to the Badgers. They admitted the Bills had quite a few foods they could eat and Sasquatch just a few.

"What about the Biters?" Prosperity asked. That got a dark look from the Badgers.

"They would never think to share. Neither do we like to play with our food in making it dead."

"Oh," was all Prosperity could say. It seemed a good subject to drop.

The Badgers were set against making a border. At least one that was a plane they'd agree not to cross. It took a bit, but the idea formed in back and forth that they could enter Human Derf space for commerce, but agreed to avoid a cone aimed at the home worlds for exploration. Further refining defined the cone as sixty degrees. They'd come so far that easily defined everything in the present globe of exploration and then some. They didn't admit that to the Badgers, who seemed pleased with talking them down from a ninety degree cone of exclusion.

Thor or Gordon would have balked at telling the Badgers what direction they'd come from, but what other choice was there if they were going to define a border and encourage trade? They did however demand reciprocal information.

When the dinner hour approached they agreed they had discussed enough business for the day and everyone was tired. The Little Fleet team said they didn't understand enough of the local language or culture to appreciate the video entertainment. They set up to make their supper from their supplies and urged the Badgers to stay if they wished and order in from the hotel.

"I should have brought my blocks," Talker said, waiting for their food.

"I have the mutual word for block," Prosperity said, looking at his pad. "But I think I'm lacking context for what specific form of block."

"These blocks are square, but thinner the third dimension and have a number on both faces." Talker found a picture of them and showed them. "The square has a prime side above the number and a secondary side under it. There are several ways to play, but usually you play off a center line and block the other player from reaching a line closer to you. You can only block with a higher number, so there is much thought well ahead and constructing lines to go around is expensive and often futile."

"Oh, it's a game," Prosperity exclaimed. "Much thought, well ahead, we'd call strategy."

"We have a similar game, but the spaces are more numerous and defined for value and the pieces plain pebbles," Madonna said.

"That sounds like the Human game of Go a little," Prosperity said. "I like card games, because a deck is so easy to carry in your pocket," he said, producing one himself.

"Really? Is it a simple game or complex?" Trader wondered.

"There are hundreds of possible games using just the one deck and some using combined decks. There are fifty two cards in four groups called suits. I'll show you the values," he said starting to sort them out on the table. "Fargoers play a lot of poker. There are a variety of poker games, but let me show you a simple one..."

* * *

The third Mum and Prosperity White called that they were coming back to the ship to report on their progress. They turned down the offer of an escort, saying they felt perfectly safe. They didn't say, but Gordon assumed they were returning to the ship so they could report in privacy. He'd suggested that to them but got no clear agreement, just a nod that wasn't the usual clear acknowledgement he got from crew, but then they weren't acting as his crew right now.

Gordon, Lee and Thor went back to the ward room to speak with the government envoys. On the flight deck they couldn't sit facing each other, none of them were very good at ignoring it when any communication came in or the screens showed action. The control room was their place of authority too. It seemed a bad idea to talk with them where the setting reminded them there was a divide between their duties and missions that way. and the coffee urn was there.

"These are the stars and vectors of the stars inhabited and worked by these races," Prosperity told them. He laid a physical print on the table, some sort of plastic material or paper encapsulated in protective covering. The model was artfully drawn, like a representation of a molecule, with bars connecting spheres. The bars had lines of data and the spheres had symbols relating them to text on the side. The system they were in right now was number 80 and they had entered from number 81. Basic numbers of each star appeared beside the sphere representing it. The chart was pretty big, near a meter on the long side and viewed in landscape mode.

"I don't know how it looks to anybody else," Lee said, "your color perception may be different, but it's pretty to my eyes, bright and they did the illusion of depth really well.

"They didn't make it specially for us. Talker said this is a well known chart used in classrooms and little ones interested in space like to hang it in their private rooms."

"Perhaps..." Thor allowed. "I'll believe they handed the location of all their worlds to us on a platter when I send a ship along some of these routes."

"What advantage to lie about it?" Prosperity asked. "They obviously don't have any great military ability. Their only space military force seems to be the Biters and it isn't like they'd act on behalf of the others, at least not without a huge price for their service."

"That's how it looks to me too," Thor admitted. "But I won't bet the future of my race and culture on my perceptions after such a limited encounter. We've only seen one of their systems."

Gordon and Lee silently looked at each other and nodded silent agreement.

"Then might I suggest we send the courier down one of these routes while we are here, double crewed and see if it matches the chart three or four populated planets into it?" Prosperity proposed.

"Not alone," Lee said quickly, looking concerned.

"You have reservations too?" Prosperity asked surprised.

"The sky is wide; it holds surprises. I've seen it turn around and bite us on the ass when we were sure everything was as sweet as could be," she said.

There was just a moment's pause, as everyone considered how expensive that lesson had been for her. It didn't leave much room to argue.

"Send the Sharp Claws," Lee argued. "It can come close to keeping up with the Roadrunner and she has teeth. If the Biters ship is any indication it is sufficient. And call Chance right now and tell him and Fat Ortega to pick their alternate crew."

"Agreed, we'll send the Sharp Claws, but designate the Roadrunner and Chance Ochocinco taskforce command. It removes the fellow with his finger on the trigger from making decisions for all of them. I know it slows the process a little, but it's worth the added safety to avoid any kind of a friendly fire accident."

"Thor, call Talker on com and ask if there is any problem with doing that. If they want to send a ship along as escort that's fine, but make sure it can keep up. Make it happen pretty quickly, so they can't send word ahead and have a fleet waiting for them."

"Aye, Sir," Thor took 'make it happen' to mean now, starting things in motion from his seat.

"And have them translate that chart to one with English notation," Gordon added.

Thor just nodded, talking into his hand com low.

"We need to reciprocate. They have agreed to make no claims in a sixty degree cone with its apex here and axis pointed at our worlds. Outside that cone it's first come first served. We've agreed to respect each other's claims markers," Prosperity said.

"Do you agree with that?" Lee asked the third Mother.

"Yes, with caution. I agree we should test this chart before creating a similar one for them."

"So you didn't agree to any time line? They aren't waiting for our chart with a hard deadline to produce it?" Gordon asked.

"No and I would avoid the issue. Just tell them we want to verify their chart before we give them a similar document. I think it will take our navigators a few days to produce it in an unfamiliar format anyway," the third Mum said. "I have confidence it will check out."

"Why? What makes you so confidence?" Lee asked, frowning.

"With all honor to my associate, I can tell when the Badgers are lying and he can't."

"That's a pretty remarkable assertation. Is there some sort of rift that's happened between you two? Gordon wondered. "I need to know if there is."

"Not at all. I enjoy working with Prosperity. In fact I'd say his government made a good choice in sending him. It's just that after our official talks were done for the day we socialized with the Badgers a bit after hours. Prosperity taught them to play poker and he owes Talker eighty six and seventeen hundredths grams of gold. He can't tell when they are bluffing."

"And you can?"

"I won twenty seven and three hundredths grams," she explained.

Lee started giggling. She tried to say something and she couldn't. Finally she jumped up and ran in the head. Prosperity looked a little miffed.

"Before you take offense too deeply, it isn't just your story that amused Lee so much." Gordon said, looking almost as unhappy as Prosperity.

"Whatever else could it be?" Prosperity asked.

"We had some discussion..." Thor said, looking down into his coffee mug. "We were concerned the Fargoers, having such affection for games of chance, would take advantage of the natives and possibly create some resentment among them."

"Take advantage of the natives?" Prosperity asked, dismayed. "Let me tell you something about the natives. After a game is done, they can recite the order in which every card was shown and quote off the top of their head the odds of filling a hand at that point based on the previously played cards. And this is playing a new game to them."

"Well then, I guess that isn't a concern for granting liberties," Gordon said.

"I don't know if the Badgers or the rest of them have anything like a casino," Prosperity said. "But I'd suggest you make clear to them that the ship will not bail them out if they gamble on credit. I know some of them have gone a little nuts assuming they'll be rich when we go home and decided to take IOUs from each other. We have no idea what the local laws are and if they can't pay up their debts they might end up sitting in jail for all we know right now. Just because we have certain laws doesn't mean theirs will be anything similar. In their law the ship might be responsible for the crew's debts on station. You better find out for sure."

"Tell the translating team to do that," Gordon instructed. "Find out the basic rules and laws of ship and crew responsibility, before we grant any leave. Also, they gave us a free dock this time. That's nice, but we need to know the rates for later."

Lee came back from the head, under control.

"I got the story," Prosperity told her.

"Oh good. You don't hate me I hope?"

"No and I won't hold it against Talker and Trader, but I'm never going to play poker with the Badgers again. I predict if they visit our worlds all the casinos will ban them. They're all natural card counters."

"Eighty six grams was a cheap lesson," the third Mother told Prosperity. "I'd count it a friendly game. They could have set the stakes much higher."

"Again, I think we can get along with these people," Lee said. "Well, maybe not the Biters. But the rest seem to have thought processes similar to our races. It wouldn't be hospitable to play your guest's game and take him for everything you can get. They do seem to have a sense of what is polite."

Chapter 13

"The Roadrunner and Sharp Claws can be ready to depart in thirty minutes if that is acceptable," Thor informed Gordon. "They can do it faster, but it gives the Sharp Claws time to safely double check things like loose items in the galley and give crew time to secure personal items. The Roadrunner is pretty much always stowed and ready to go. They picked Persevere Wilson and Timely Rodriguez to be their beta crew."

"Can the Badgers have an escort ready to go in the same time frame?"

"They say yes. They have a Badger messenger class ship, with a crew of six, that looks to be similar to our courier class. They agreed to send them along to introduce our people on system entry. Talker says such a ship always stands ready to quickly carry a message or light delivery."

"I'd suggest to our captains they make sure the Badgers can synchronize well enough before inviting them to jump in close formation."

"Any other instructions?" Thor asked.

Gordon considered it silently just a moment.

"We don't have time to make and install another docking collar. It's a lot of weight to add to a courier anyway. Have them start making another though, in case we want one another time. Try to make it light too. See if the Badgers can sell us replacement feed stock for the fabricators."

"I suggest you charge them with protecting the Badger ship since they are kind enough to provide an escort," Lee proposed.

"Indeed, an excellent suggestion, if the Badger Captain is agreeable. Also, tell them to withdraw if the owners of any system tells them they are unwelcome. Loop back another way even if necessary. Double check before they go, to make sure that the Biters aren't the owners of any of the systems they will transverse."

"The Badger messenger ship is undocked already. They accept protection. The Captain informs us the Biters worlds are to the far edge of the map we were given, so that isn't a problem. He will privately transmit us an update showing extensions as they aren't listed as part of that group. The Biters he says, object to any of their three systems being listed on other's charts. They see that as an invitation to enter and don't welcome visitors. So they leave them off public charts, rather than argue."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Gordon muttered.

After the ships formed up and departed on an agreed vector and acceleration, they got a message back from the Roadrunner. " Fat Ortega sitting second board to Captain Chance Ochocinco wishes you to know that the commander of the Badger ship informs him they can jump in sync if need arises, but he doesn't wish to add the small risk without necessity. He would prefer to jump from a fifty kilometer separation. Since we are going to be announced by him and have no operational need to cloak our numbers on entry, we have agreed to that."

"I can't fault that," Thor said. "I wonder what our boys plan to do? I'm not going to influence them and see what they choose."

"We should have sent Ha-bob-bob-brie," Lee said. "Too late... "

When the ships blinked out of existence they did so simultaneously. But the ships of The Little Fleet were about five hundred meters apart.

"Ah, they decided to show some style arriving, Thor said. He seemed to approve.

* * *

"We are finding none of these races here have the depth of plastics technology we have," Prosperity informed them. "The situation is almost the same with paint, which is closely related of course. But some of the things they have done with ceramics we have to buy. They showed me ceramics you can dent with a hammer and they don't break. They make ceramic springs."

"They haven't said anything about the gravity on the station?" Lee asked.

"No and I'm reluctant to let them know we don't have a clue how they do it."

"Don't ask straight out how," Lee counseled. "Ask how high a gradient they can generate, or what sort of power efficiencies they get. Something round-about like that."

"The danger is with that I could be asking a really stupid question, which might tell them we have no idea of the underlying mechanism and are trying to fake it."

"Then they'll know," Lee said with a shrug, "but we won't be any worse off than if we didn't give it a try," she said. After a little thought she added, "Have the third Mother work it into the conversation. Ask if they can turn it up a little to Derf standard. They apparently can't read her and if they try to blow her off with a lie she'll probably know. She isn't a technical person either and if her question seems silly to them she can honestly say she's an executive and a cook, but not an engineer or a techie."

"There's still no hint that they have nuclear explosives?" Gordon asked.

"We touched on power generation. They found it interesting we use a helium 3 – deuterium reaction because they use deuterium – deuterium. They were aware of the higher energy reaction but decided not to build the infrastructure for helium 3. When we mentioned that we used fission reactions for power while still planet bound, they said they too experimented with that early on and dropped it because of the difficulties with waste and because of the short life of mechanical components under high radiation and decommissioning expenses. Nobody has ever hinted they conceived how to assemble an all consuming prompt neutron super-critical mass," Prosperity said.

"Isn't a simple fission bomb pretty obvious?" Lee asked. "I thought it was 1940s technology."

"Everything is easy in hind-sight. There was nothing simple or easy about the circumstances of humans inventing it in the 1940s," Prosperity told her. "They didn't produce nuclear reactors and then accumulate experience about nuclear engineering until eventually they knew enough to produce a nuclear explosive. They were in a global war of survival and the explosives came first with little thought to other applications until after. Some of the first reactors to make plutonium were set on a river for coolant and they just discarded the power as waste heat dumped in the river. The production of the weapons took a great deal of the national economy in a country already paying for a worldwide war. They literally built entire new towns to hold all the workers and vast machinery. Look up 'Oak Ridge' on the portion of the web we haven't released to them. It wasn't something that would have happened in peacetime."

"And the Badgers and Bills are more peaceable than us?" Lee asked. She didn't seem convinced.

"I can't swear to that, but their wars and technology advanced at different rates than Humans. That resulted in quite a different history. Badgers had a world government before they had a war like Humans had in 1914, the First World War. Their last war that created a world government had a few submarines but no armored tanks or heavier that air war planes. The submarines were horrible death traps really. They just barely developed repeating firearms before it was over. They never had a mechanized war like WWI, which a lot of historians would tell you was just a precursor to World War Two, or what they call the First Atomic War now," Prosperity said.

"I could argue Derf are more peaceable because we never had worldwide wars," Thor objected.

"So by the time they could have built them... "Lee prompted Prosperity to finish up before Thor side tracked him..

"They had no need. Especially, no incentive to spend that huge of a fortune to do so. And the limited fission tech they did develop never had a need to produce the highly enriched uranium or huge quantities of plutonium that you need for a nuclear kernel. Even if some Badger ever visualized the theoretical possibility of assembling a supercritical mass so quickly that the prompt neutron cascade consumed all the nuclear fuel before the device could disassemble itself – the stuff wasn't laying around to try it. And if you didn't have somebody at hand you were keen to drop the thing on why would you go to the expense? At that tech level it isn't a trivial exercise to assemble uranium, and plutonium requires much faster assembly not to be a dud. Why would they spend that kind of money and risk the hazards of what they already saw as a dangerous and dirty technology to go blow a crater in a desert somewhere with no enemy to use it on?"

"So if they never had a simple fission weapon they'd have not a clue how we progressed to explosive fusion or use it to pump an x-ray laser?" Lee asked.

"No, neither would gamma enhanced weapons, for area EMP, or neutron bombs get developed."

"Have you told them we can run on tritium if we wish too?" Gordon wondered.

"It didn't seem necessary to inform them, no," Prosperity said.

"Well, it's amazing how different minds arrive at different solutions," Thor said.

"The Derf didn't have nuclear power either did they," Lee asked Thor.

"No, but we did have an atomic theory of matter. And we had x-rays, but never used them to the extent Humans did. We had some of the elements of relativity, but quantum theory was just way out there to us. We weren't sure you weren't pulling a joke on us to see if we'd believe it at first."

"The Hinth didn't either," Gordon said. Perhaps a little defensively.

"A lot of Humans still can't bend their heads around quantum theory," Lee pointed out.

"And yet these new races, well at least one of them, developed jump ships," Thor said.

"The Biters also, independently, because they came in their own ships," Gordon added.

"They are also behind in electronics," Prosperity revealed. "They have the multi-component chip, but they require a whole board of them to do what one smaller device does for us. When they saw me using my pad to do what is high end machine functions to them they freaked. I suspect their superior memory and lightening fast calculation retarded their development, because they didn't need them as badly as us. But it also means they still don't need them as much as we do. They seemed more impressed with the better graphics that more computing power allowed, than the math and analysis."

"When we spoke with Talker and Trader they were incredulous that we'd start a project to Terraform a world, knowing it wouldn't be finished for generations," Lee told Prosperity.

"Quite a contrast with the Bunnies, isn't it? Who have been single mindedly digging at those mountains for thousands of years." Gordon said. "They'd drop a single ship on a world, put a few clumps of crab grass and kudzu out to start a biosphere, and come back in a few millennia."

"Yes, but I'd count them fanatics," Thor said.

"It'll be interesting to see how that shook out, if we can stop there again," Lee agreed.

"We should introduce the Bunnies and the Biters," Thor said, with an evil smile. "They deserve each other."

"Do you have anything to say for yourselves foul grass eaters?" Lee said in her best deep voice. "Yes, lean over and take the Teen's collar slave!" She sat and laughed at her own humor.

* * *

The Sharp Claws and Roadrunner popped into existence together in the next major system shown on the Badgers chart. It had their numerical designation of 78. The Badger ship appeared simultaneously. Or at least close enough to it that they could have jumped in formation. The Captain of the Badger vessel invited them to call him Fussy. That strange a name should qualify him to be an honorary Fargoer. The vessel he translated as Dart, which when they asked, did indeed turn out to be a small finned projectile with a pointy nose but an ancient weapon of war. He supplied a picture from his files and was amused to get a picture back of Humans playing darts at a bar.

The world ahead of them was another Badger world, but they were told with a heavy Bills presence. When asked why, they said the climate was more to the Bills liking, hot and humid, it being a sterile water world. They still had to wear a mask for oxygen, but otherwise it didn't require suits. They had mining operations on the surface as well as out-system. This star system had been populated long enough to have a space station around the water world, as well as one of the gas giants.

The numbers matched the chart, which made the Little Fleet crews happy. There was a bit more traffic than the world they'd left, but nothing like say, Earth.

"Do you wish to go examine the station or orbit the world?" Fussy asked.

"No, just hail them for us as we pass through and let us swing around the star and go to the your system number 76," Chance Ochocinco requested. "Since it is uninhabited let us plan on proceeding then to System 69. I'm sending you course information. We should cross this system and exit in a bit more than eleven hours."

"76 is not permanently inhabited, but we might see cross traffic," Fussy warned him.

"Yes, the Sharp Claws saw some of your cross traffic transiting the system we now know you have labeled as 71 on your chart. We didn't see any facilities there either."

"Ah, so you didn't come straight in, hmm? You poked around us a bit and sized us up before popping in?" Fussy said.

"Certainly, wouldn't you?" Chance asked.

"Perhaps, or just quietly withdraw and go tell my superiors," Fussy admitted. "But then we run unarmed vessels."

"Would you go armed if you had the choice?" Chance asked, very interested.

"It isn't my decision," Fussy informed him, then... "Before the Biters I would have said no."

Despite the disclaimer that seemed pretty clear to Chance.

"I can imagine much worse than the Biters," Fat Ortega, lurking on the conversation, told them. Fussy didn't comment on that.

* * *

Prosperity and the third Mother were back at the High Hopes after another day of negotiations with the Badgers. They came back earlier today, deciding to eat supper on the ship and foregoing a social hour after their formal talks.

"The translation software is much better," Madonna, the Third Mother reported. "It structures the grammar much more naturally and gets uncommon tenses correctly."

"But it still isn't to the point we can speak subtly," Prosperity added.

"Well, I wasn't planning on sweet-talking a Badger for marriage, or attempting to discuss the finer parts of theology," Gordon retorted.

"I believe, that today what they were dancing around asking, was on what terms we'd hire out to them as mercenaries," the Third Mother told Gordon. "I'd have sooner entertained an offer of marriage."

"Did you tell them, I'm not that sort of girl?" Lee asked, through bared teeth.

"Honestly, I have to say it might have been our fault," Madonna allowed. "Perhaps we should not have offered protection to the Dart accompanying our vessels. It may have given them the idea."

Lee considered that, head cocked over, lips set hard. "Crud..."

"I think they might have been more outspoken, but they don't really understand how we defeated the Biters ship. They dropped a few hints about that too."

"It happened right out in the open, in line of sight from the station. They knew they were coming at us aggressively, so something might happen. How could they not see?" Lee asked the Third Mum.

"That's what I asked a couple of the instrument techs and the scan officer. They expressed no surprise that the Badgers, or others, would fail to have sensors looking at us with the right settings to capture what was happening. We have sensors for nuclear explosions, because we know for what to watch and have an interest. But what if you've never seen a nuke go off? We know for what sort of flash to watch. They'd have no expectation of such a brief, bright light. Their sensors are likely set to see and analyze a plasma drive or chemical detonations."

"Wouldn't a nuke going off emit light on the frequencies they'd be watching too?" Lee asked.

"Yes, but all they'd record is an intense light of much shorter than their usual scanning interval and more intense than the highest level of their metering range. It really wouldn't give them the detailed information we know to look for, to compute the actual energy release of the device, the sort of kernel it used and if it had a fusion boost. We can often get enough of a spectrum to know what sort of housing it was in or if it was used as an x-ray pump. It might take a number of tries before they could get the parameters down just right to really figure out what is happening."

"Let's hope they don't see a whole bunch of them going off to refine it," Lee said.

"They will just know we have something totally different than they know how to make." Thor said.

"For a little while," Prosperity reminded them. "If they are going to visit our worlds and have free access to our public data nets and libraries they'll know about nuclear weapons very quickly. There is enough public information to build simple weapons. Also, do you want to be the one to tell the Fargoers they can't sell them any?"

"Good point," Gordon allowed. "It will take them awhile to make more sophisticated devices, like x-heads for missiles, but they will in time."

"Having all the support tech such as battle software, electronic countermeasures and interception systems will take a long time," Madonna said. "Even among our worlds, some are always just a little ahead of others. A small advantage means life or death in such weaponry."

"Nobody seemed concerned to keep the Hinth or Derf from learning about nukes, or other exotic Earth weapons when we met," Thor pointed out.

"Again, it's in the public domain so thoroughly you'd have to close off the border and refuse to allow them to visit our spaces. You'd have to prohibit all trade and cultural exchange, because somebody is going to refer to them if only in an off-hand historical way. I mean, the First Atomic War on Earth was before Humans even attained Earth orbit. You'd have to refuse them all our video and history books. And all for nothing if they keep seeing us use them. They'll start altering their instrumentation and figure it out eventually," Prosperity said. "I'm sure bright people figured that out how futile that would be quickly when they met the Hinth and Derf too, just like we are now."

"I don't have a deep gut feeling that the Badgers are war-like and skillfully covering it up to us. The others... probably not either. But the Biters are not folk I want to see have nukes," Gordon said. "Not even simple ones. I can see where the Badgers would want to hire us for protection against them, but I don't want to arm them as an alternative either."

"But, you don't need to sell them nukes to arm them against the Biters," Lee said. "Just sell them some stuff with better range and penetration aids than the Biters have, but conventional explosives."

"That's...brilliant," Gordon admitted. "What made you think of that?"

"It was obvious," Lee shrugged.

* * *

The Little Fleet ships jumped together as a matter of course. The Dart doing so from a safe distance. Star system 69 was lightly inhabited, with mining operations and a small station orbiting a gas giant and another going around a marginal world. The small world with a very thin atmosphere of noble gases was as close as anything in the system came to being hospitable on its surface. It still required pressure suits to walk the surface however. It was very similar to Mars, except it was creamy white instead of red. The Bills were the predominant race in the system.

The Dart hailed the station, explaining who they were and their mission.

"What is your pleasure?" Fussy asked, surprising Chance Ochocinco with that usage of English.

"There isn't anything worth stopping here. I'd like to proceed to one more system, perhaps 68 and then loop back to our fleet at number 80 another way."

"We can do that," Fussy agreed, "but beyond 68 any loop that takes us back will require going through two stars that have no fuel available. If I might fuel up here we'll have enough to carry us. We have fuel scooping systems too but that would delay us more than just buying it."

"Fine, how long will it take you to top off?" Chance asked.

"Only about seven or eight thousand seconds, but decelerating and docking is what takes most of the time we'd delay," Fussy explained. "The station by the world is easier."

"In that case we'll take the opportunity to allow two crew on the station. We'll do a walk around and take some pix if it isn't anything private. Would you double check and make sure we'd be welcome?"

"I will as a formality, but these folks are already aware we are in contact with new races, the news of it spreads ahead faster than a manned ship by drone. You'll be a curiosity actually."

"Too bad we're all Humans, it would be nice to show them some Derf, but they won't fit in a courier class vessel like this."

"You don't intend to bring the Sharp Claws to dock?"

"No, I wouldn't want our best armed ship tied up at dock anyway. Don't forget, we don't have a docking collar adaptor. We'll have to moor on the station, or hold position close and two of us will go across in suits."

"I'll be happy to meet you," Fussy said.

"I'd like that too, but I'm responsible and don't feel I can leave my command. Hand communicators are not sufficiently reliable to have board data forwarded and to communicate command decisions. My second, Fat Ortega and one of our second shift crew, will attend you and see the station."

"I understand, this is unfamiliar territory to you, I've been here many times, so I looked at it differently. I respect your diligence. Do you have some sort of grapple if the station puts a mooring mast out for you? They always have one for the mining vessel or such that rarely comes in to dock."

"Yes, we have a claw," Chance demonstrated with a hand in front of the camera, "for grabbing into an asteroid or shifting cargo to a larger vessel."

"I'll tell them to run one out. It will have a strobe near the end."

"Thank you. We'll follow you in when we get close and watch how you connect for fuel. That's of interest to us and then we'll moor."

* * *

"I suggested to Talker that we might be willing to help them gain an significant edge on the Biters with superior weapons tech," Prosperity reported when they came back to the ship the next evening. "I think he was interested, but when I said I must in all fairness disclose we are not ready to just hand over our most advanced designs he was disappointed. However after he thought on it awhile he acknowledged it would be foolish to arm people so newly met with your very best."

"Of course he is going to try to negotiate everything he can get," the Third Mother, Madonna said, "but Prosperity did a pretty good job of making it clear he wasn't going to get our best stuff without being insulting. I think maybe the most productive thing he did, was tell Talker that one of the weapons like we used on the Biter cost over a hundred thousand ounces of silver each, on Fargone, plus shipping costs and the investment in maintenance tools and parts, launch tubes and the computer control systems. That seemed to cool his jets considerably. I think they'll come around to our proposal eventually."

* * *

Chance got a video of the Dart joining up to the fueling mechanisms. There wasn't any point in watching them fill and disconnect, so he confirmed he was safe to maneuver with station com himself, Fussy being busy with this ship. He was cleared to go around the perimeter to look for the mooring mast at no more than about three meters per second. He made a note to tell Gordon later he'd been advised against cutting across the flat of the station while close. He wondered if their artificial gravity would suck him in, but refrained from asking.

Fat definitely wanted to visit the station, neither Persevere nor Timely had clear seniority to claim the station visit. They solved it in typical Fargoer fashion by flipping a coin. In zero g that meant Chance spun a Fargone silver coin through the air to Fat, who snatched it out of the air and slapped it on the back of his other hand covered.

"Who gets to call it?" Chance asked.

Timely made a gracious wave, and a little bow to Persevere, granting the privilege.

"Planetary Coat of Arms," Persevere said, which was tails to most, but removed all uncertainty.

Fat tilted his fist to them and lifted the restraining hand. It was the Fargone Globe, usually called as heads being a round image. So Timely went. Fat grasped the coin between two fingers and turned it over to show it was not a trick coin with the same sides. That wasn't rude for Fargoers, it was expected.

* * *

"Talker and Trader seem to have warmed up to the idea of mere superiority over the Biters being sufficient," Prosperity reported the next day. "I'm encouraged enormously that they haven't asked if we have the means to reduce the Biter's home planet to a cinder."

"Ask them if they have any recording of Biter ships fighting each other or stopping the other race's ships. If we have to go home and ask the engineers to make special weapons systems we better know the parameters well enough to provide a good product," Gordon suggested.

"I'm assuming you have no problem allowing Fargone to get this business?" Prosperity asked.

"That's why you are along," Gordon assured him. "Despite a few hic-ups getting supplied and under way we have gone with Fargone for just about everything. You don't see much New Japan equipment or one of their nationals invited along do you?"

"Well there's Earth too," Prosperity allowed.

Lee just looked at him disgusted, until Prosperity squirmed a little.

"We may have made peace with Earth powers," she said, "but that doesn't mean we like them."

"No, I can see why," Prosperity agreed. "And I'm prejudiced being a Fargoer, but I think we have been consistently staying ahead of them slightly on weapon tech now for a good decade. Maybe fifteen years even. They will have numbers on us for a long time, but you have to bring those number to bear for it to mean anything."

"The total of all armed Earth ships is meaningless," Thor said, waving the idea away like a bad odor. "You could get maybe half of them to support a mass fleet for a really serious violation of the Claims agreements. Even then, half would find some reason to beg off. The only numbers that mean anything is how many ships the Chinese or North America can field in a fleet and bring to bear at one place. They aren't going to strip their bases on the far side of explored space to address a problem on this side. The volume of explored space is big enough now that any action would be long over before word could get to the far side and the forces mobilize and respond back across the volume."

Lee perked up at that. "My dad told me back when they used sailing ships it could be months after a war was over before word got to everyone to stop fighting."

Gordon had that pensive, thoughtful look. "I wonder if the Badgers realize how many ships they will need to arm to make themselves safe from the Biters? How many Biter ships are there anyhow? And are the Badgers going to talk any of the other races into arming? Or are they setting up to sell protection to the others, since we don't want the job?"

"All good questions and we'll try to get answers tomorrow," Prosperity answered. The third Mum nodded solemn agreement.

Chapter 14

The Roadrunner grabbed the boom without any problems. Fat and Timely suited up. They didn't wear any arms externally on the suits, but Chance told them to wear side arms under, for after they removed their suits, to walk around.

"We see the Badgers and others have personal arms. No reason you should be their social inferiors. Mr. Wilson, I see you have had a sleep period recently. I intend to take a rest period now in the comfort of my bunk instead of on an acceleration couch. You are technically officer of the day at dock, but you may rest at the board if you set an alarm sufficient to wake you up for incoming calls. The Sharp Claws has more people than us to do shifts and can watch the radar and system com and alert us at your request instead of just relaying data to us. Good night Sir."

Persevere was resting, eyes closed, when the board jarred him awake later. It took a minute for him to read the messages and check the clock before he decided he should disturb Chance.

"Sir," Persevere Wilson called from the tiny flight deck of the courier, "station com reports a force of six Biter vessels was in system transit, however upon requesting recent system scan and seeing our arrival, they have changed course to make planetary orbit or dock. They asked if the Sharp Claws was part of the force that engaged their ship in system 80 and the station com answered them truthfully that it was."

"Well I wouldn't ask them to lie for us and if they did it would hardly be believable." Chance looked at the com clock. He'd managed less than two hours of sleep. If things went really bad he wanted a clear mind. "Ask Sharp Claws how long until they are in missile range if we stay put right here?"

After a short delay, to inquire, Persevere informed him seven to seven and a half hours.

"Have the Badgers finished fueling?"

"Yes and they are free to take crew back aboard on short notice and have just now asked if we would prefer to leave in approximately the opposite direction from which the Biters are approaching."

"Leave? Run from only six of them? I don't think so. If we don't deal with them here, the Retribution and Murphy's Law will just have to deal with them back in system 80. Gordon would certainly wonder why we ran. Running would look really bad to our potential new allies. They can of course retreat if they have a sudden change of heart and no longer want our protection. In which case they are on their own again. Let them decide however, without suggesting the option."

"I got the impression they thought it might be the smart thing to do. Any one of the approaching Biter ships outweigh the Sharp Claws by at least a factor of two."

Chance ignored that. He wasn't planning on ramming them. "Have our crew on station called in?"

"Fat did a com check recently, Sir. To make sure we were reachable, that's all."

"Good man. I'll call them in if it is warranted. I'm going get some more sleep. I'm sure I'll need it and appreciate it in a bit. Inform the Sharp Claws I'll be back up in three or four hours. If the Biters display some astonishing new capabilities you may awaken me and of course the Sharp Claws is weapons free to engage the Biters, if they should rudely surprise us with a longer range weapon or something. If the Bills get all nervous and decide to kick us out you may recall our crew immediately, even before awakening me. Other than that, good night Mr. Wilson," Chance said and disconnected.

After informing the Sharp Claws they were weapons free and the task force commander was sleeping, Persevere considered his direct orders. Chance said nothing about informing Captain Fussy or the Dart of anything. Somehow he suspected it wouldn't be appreciated if he took the initiative to contact them even to share their status. So he sat and waited to see how long it would take them to call him again. The answer was about ten minutes.

"Commander Chance?" Fussy inquired. "No your hair is a different color and your face is...longer on the vertical line," he decided. That was interesting. They had trouble telling similar Humans apart.

"I'm Persevere. I'm in charge of the vessel, what we call Officer of the Day at dock and I'm directing communications while the commander is sleeping. How may I help you?"

"Don't you think you should awaken the commander and inform him there is a Biter fleet in system and approaching?"

"The commander was awakened. He appraised the situation, had me instruct the Sharp Claws that they were free to engage the Biters, what we call a weapons free condition, if it should prove necessary. Also if the station folk were so afraid they didn't want us here I'm to recall our people visiting on station. He intends to get several hours more sleep before dealing with them."

There was silence for a long time. This course apparently was hard to understand, or appeared to be simple insanity to the Badgers.

"You two are the smallest vessels in your fleet," Fussy finally managed to say.

"This is true," Persevere agreed. He wasn't about to have a discussion about their ability. If the Badgers had no confidence in them, that was their problem. He'd been thinking on it himself since talking to Chance. The Sharp Claws had two x-head weapons in ready launch tubes. Even if they dispersed widely to attempt an englobing maneuver, the Biter vessels would lose two ships to those weapons. They could also engage them at sufficient range that the crew should have plenty of time to move two more weapons forward into the tubes and launch them. That would account for four of the six right there. The peashooter might very well account for at least one more of them at shorter range. That was not even counting the beam weapon they carried and their radar alone could probably blind and burn the electronics out of any survivor who got close enough to be a threat. Upon careful counting and consideration, given what they knew about the Biter vessels, Commander Chance was right to see them as no great threat.

"What will the Sharp Claws do if the Biters launch weapons on them or issue a threat while the commander is sleeping?" Fussy asked.

"As regrettable as that would be, given the aggressive nature the Biters displayed before, I'm afraid he'd have no real alternative but to destroy them," Persevere said.

"I'm not sure if your commander is mentally unbalanced, or if I am," Fussy said. "But I'm going to bet my butt on him. I have six Badger years until I retire, about seven of yours, the computer tells me. If I run away when I didn't have to they won't retire me early. They'll put me on slop and scrub duty until I reach retirement age. I'm way too old to crawl around ducts and do physical labor. Do you people have something similar, to understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes, we have duty scrubbing down the heads and changing filters," Persevere said. "If you get stuck doing it more than your first year it is a sign you have no future in our service. I can't imagine it for six or seven years, especially when you aren't as young and flexible as you once were..."

"You understand perfectly then. If Commander Chance is wrong I'll only be dead. I'll take the risk on that, but not the other."

"I suggest Sir, you observe closely if they do engage each other. I'm sure your people, whatever sort of command structure you report to, will be very interested in how it plays out."

"I am encouraged, how easily you assume I will be alive to report to them," Fussy said, and disconnected.

* * *

"I've been talking to some of my shipmates," Prosperity told them. "We are hopeful a lot of the technology to arm the Badger ships exists as legacy systems. That would cut down both the cost and the delivery delay for them. I haven't told them that, not wanting to understate the difficulty."

"They have provided some data records which give us some idea of the range and effectiveness of Biter weapons systems," the Third Mother confirmed. "We are also advised that the Biter social structure is such that they don't form continent spanning political systems with vast resources. In fact they tend to have smaller clan structures than we Derf. This puts a limit on what resources can be brought to bear on acquiring both ships and weapons."

"Or to put it another way, they are so argumentative they fall out with each other and squabble in much smaller groups than Derf or Humans," Prosperity said. "I personally am thankful they aren't more cooperative. They would be a much bigger threat."

"As you suspected, there is no indication they have atomic weapons," the Third Mum said.

"And some of our current production systems used to deliver nuclear weapons can be retro-fitted to deliver plain old chemical explosives," Prosperity said. "In fact, we have perhaps neglected the field because we have nukes. There have been advances in chemical explosives in mining and other fields we can bring to bear and apply now instead of automatically thinking they are obsolete. Indeed, we may acquire weapons for our own use that allow actions that are more, surgical, shall we say?"

"Define surgical," Thor said skeptically.

"One might destroy, or at least damage beyond functioning, a ship docked at a space station. Without blowing both to plasma."

"OK, I can see where that might be handy," Thor admitted.

"Especially with all these races mixed together. You might catch an enemy at a neutral dock and he'd feel free to fire on you thinking you couldn't return fire," Lee speculated.

"If you can get a fee toward design costs and as a down payment on a demonstration system, that would make it easier to sell at home," Gordon suggested.

"That will be interesting to try to sell," the Third Mum agreed.

* * *

Persevere was chewing his lip, trying to decide if he should wake his commander up again. If he did and he judged it unnecessary, it might never be forgotten. Forgiven maybe, but not forgotten. Chance saved him the worry by announcing he was awake and would come to the flight deck shortly.

"That's good Sir, we are just now receiving communication from the Sharp Claws. It seems the Biters have been made aware from the station that there is a newer copy of the translation software, received a copy, and are not hesitant to lay some demands on us."

"Oh really? I'll shower and join you in perhaps fifteen minutes. I presume it will wait that long?"

"Easily," Persevere told him. "They are still over three hours outside our engagement envelope."

"But the sooner we respond the better," Chance decided. "Silence might be mistaken for timidity."

Chance floated in and took his couch, hair still wet. He seemed rested and cheerful beyond all reason. Persevere wondered if he was really that unconcerned or if at least some of it was an act for his subordinates, not only him, but the crew on the Sharp Claws.

Chance snugged a single belt to hold himself in place, changed his chair settings a little from what he'd left them and brought the com screen up, declaring, "Let's see what they say."

"Humans! You are of the party who made war upon our vessel in (Badger system 80). Stand to and await our arrival. We shall board you and make an thorough inspection of what we are dealing with. If you grass eaters run we shall pursue and destroy you, whether in this star system or when we catch up. You will deactivate all weapons and submit to our inspection and questions. Acknowledge this!"

"Charming aren't they?" Chance asked. "They don't seem to realize we have Derf on the Sharp Claws also. I suppose I should make a conciliatory reply and try to defuse the situation, but I don't have it in me, given their arrogance. Recording," Chance instructed the com computer. "Translate and transmit to the Biter fleet."

"When you address another it is politeness in our culture to identify yourself. If you have no family or nation that will acknowledge you as their own, then certainly you must have at least a familiar name for those around you. Surely you aren't simply addressed as 'Hey You' on your flight deck. I am Chance, of the family Ochocinco, a Human as you have observed, of the nation of Fargone and on detached command from the private, multiracial exploration group, known as The Little Fleet, which is actively commanded by a Derf, not a Human.

"You are misinformed if you have been told we are herbivores. We damn well eat the bloody carcasses of just about anything we can run down and have since the first of us found out how handy a pointy stick could be. We aren't running anywhere and if you have any sense at all you will alter your course back to your previous path and proceed on to meet the fellows who shot up your ship. They just nipped the ass end off of it, in a fit of politeness I won't copy. I'll blow you all to hell if you continue to approach us. Since you seem to enjoy frankness, I hope that was sufficiently plain. I suggest when you meet the remainder of our Little Fleet you act with more tact or they will kill you with even less discussion. End message."

"Mr. Wilson, I think you may as well recall our crew. I expect the Bills to ask us to stand off from their station so they don't suffer collateral damage. I take it from the way the Biters speak to people that everyone here about is afraid to say boo to them."

"Aye, Sir. Giving them a recall notice. Do you want to take com back personally?"

"No, just to the Biters was sufficient. You are doing fine. I like distancing myself a bit. It moderates how they speak, makes them think a little more to go through a third party. Likely makes them wonder what else I'm up to. Tell our crew not to display any unseemly haste. We don't want to project concern."

"Aye Sir. Fussy is on com inquiring if he understands the language sufficiently to support his idea you were taunting the Biters? He wants to know if you would prefer to engage them rather than the other vessels of our fleet?"

"Tell him I simply didn't think it mattered what I said to them. They had already determined a course of action and nothing I said, short of a surrender and please don't hurt me, would have satisfied them, so I might as well please myself."

"He says he'd rather fight an angry enemy than a calm one."

"Indeed, there is that. Tell him it's much the same with our races too."

"Ah, as predicted, the Bills respectfully ask if you could undock and direct your space battle away from their station?"

"Ha! Tell them yes and thank you for asking so nicely."

"Wow, the translation software has really gotten good. They say, "Good Luck".

"Please ask them to keep the system scan of the action confidential. It would be damaging to us for other Biters to come in system and be instructed how to deal with us from system scan archives."

Chance was right, everyone did hesitate longer and compose their words with more care if they were relayed. It was interesting and he'd remember it.

"Station Control points out they may carry the details of the engagement home themselves."

"No they won't. They'll be dead. You may inform them so."

"I think you finally got through to them," Persevere told him."I think that shocked them. Ah, our guys are at the lock, coming in."

"Thank you Mr. Wilson. Please tell them to secure for maneuvering and they can ride in their bunks for now. I won't let them miss out on observing the action up here," he promised. "I'll speak directly with Sharp Claws now. You can still field any discussion from the Bills or Fussy for me."

"Aye."

"Sharp Claws, We shall accommodate the Station Master and rise orbit away from the station. Follow our lead please Mr. Frost. Numbers are being transmitted to your navigator. I will charge you with fighting your ship, it's not my intention to micro-manage you. I would appreciate it if you don't leave any survivors to carry word back to their world. They already have too much information about our capabilities and our psychology, from engaging them back at system 80."

"Yes Sir, following your lead," Frost acknowledged.

"You'd have vaporized them?" Persevere asked, off com.

"Yes, dead men carry no tales," Chance said, holding his mute button. "I'm not being critical of our fleet commander, I understand Gordon was also showing the newly met fellows we could be moderate. Facing six ships I don't feel we have the luxury of moderation."

"No Sir, I had to think on it a bit to understand why we can engage that many," he admitted.

"I think we could take eight, or I wouldn't try to do six," Chance told him.

"Yes, I can see that, from the engagement I was picturing."

"Past eight, you are depending on uncommon missile accuracy, stupid tactics from your enemy, the pea shooter engaging a target which does not maneuver, a fast recycle time on the beam weapon, or an untested susceptibility to electronic countermeasures."

"Yes Sir. Just about what I was thinking, but it took me awhile to play out the scenarios in my mind while you were sleeping."

"That's the scary thing about Gordon," Chance explained, suddenly chatty. "He'll look over at you without any pause or hesitation and issue orders with all those factors weighed in and balanced, that you took an hour or more to carefully think through."

"I've seen the video," Persevere said.

"I've watched it a dozen times," Chance said, "wishing I knew Derf better, to read his expression, but I learned a lot watching the human crew on his bridge."

"How do they react, Sir?"

"The scary thing is they don't. They just key in or actuate what they were ordered without hesitation. Nobody looks surprised, or lifts their head to look at him, no matter how outrageous the order. And he doesn't look at them like he's checking to see they are compliant. They trust him. I'd hate like hell to have to fight a ship he's commanding."

"And yet he didn't come out of any academy, indeed, I read that he left home very young, so he missed the usual military training all keep Derf get."

"I sincerely doubt what he does could be taught anyway," Chance scoffed. "You can try to teach basic tactics, but there is no course on how to be a military genius. You either have the intelligence and the brain to integrate that much complex information quickly and fearlessly, or you don't. I know my limits and talents are not at that level. Fortunately I've done everything one can to avoid being at the mercy of such a person. I picked the right side!"

Persevere couldn't help smiling at that advice.

"Everyone seems talked out. No more messages waiting?"

"No Sir, clean board," he replied.

"Good," Chance said, "Now we wait a bit," and he slouched back in his couch and closed his eyes.

* * *

"Sir, Captain Frost says the Biters are maneuvering. They are bunching up tight in a circle, spaced about a half kilometer apart. He is feeding us his tactical screen and flight deck audio and says they are changing formation much further out than the range at which the Biter vessel was hit in system 80."

"Hmm," Chance sat up to examine the plot with the Sharp Claws and Biter ships still well separated. "Gordon did a fire and coast shot in system 80. They are going by the reports from that ship, worried we have much greater range than we do in reality. That worked fine when they kept to their course. These fellows now know that one of our missiles that has gone inertial and appears inert may come back to life. Frost is right not to expend a pair of x-heads on them outside the range of powered flight. They might go to some effort now, to move away from a coasting pair, even if it delays their arrival and uses up a good deal of delta V."

"Why would they bunch up like that? I'm no tactician, but it looks stupid."

"They still don't understand what hit their ship in 80. If they are using only chemical weapons they can't understand what could have reached them in the time frame observed. They know it wasn't the sort of shrapnel their weapons would generate, and to them a beam weapon is something generated on a ship that would be of much lower power and unable to do damage at those ranges. The idea a missile could explosively generate a much more intense beam is going to take a real stretch of imagination for them. I can see they might think we have some sort of stealth weapon which got through to their ship that they simply couldn't paint with their radar as one possibility."

"So they are bunched up for their defensive systems to work better?"

"Almost certainly, yes. They have some sort of short range system to damage a missile as it comes at their ship, but it is good only the sort of threat that has to get much closer to detonate, to do any damage. If their defense is a gun that throws physical projectiles, or a pattern of them like a shotgun, they can throw much more at an incoming threat close to each other. If they have lower powered beam weapons, same thing, they can bring several to bear if the range is approximately the same for several of them. Spread out, every ship would be much weaker on its own – against the sort of weapons they expect."

"That's only helpful if your enemy has a slower rate of fire that a group can intercept, but a single ship couldn't," Persevere thought aloud.

"Indeed, you are correct, Mr. Wilson. Which also likely tells us something about the rate of fire of their offensive systems. Their own missiles are fairly dear, or their defense, as you say, wouldn't be configured that way. They can't fire a barrage of many cheap missiles. I'd have acted much differently, but their aggressive nature betrays them."

"What would you have done different?" Persevere asked sharply, looking surprised.

"Why, I'd assume that if I couldn't take a new enemy with five ships, chances are six wouldn't do the job either. So I'd have held my fastest ship back from being committed to the fight, with orders to run home and show the recordings of how it went should I be defeated."

"But they can't display any uncertainty can they?"

"No, given what we are seeing of their mental makeup, showing any doubt would be regarded as contemptible weakness in the face of grass eaters. I'd sooner give away half our missile range than the deadly weapon of advantage their haughty attitude gives us."

* * *

"Sir, Station Scan announces the Badger ship Dart has undocked and is assuming a higher orbit behind us. Radar confirms we have a return off a ship separating from the station and following our approximate course. How should we mark it on our tactical display? Friend or foe?"

"Neutral shipping. They are not armed, so they really are of no threat or help," Frost replied. I'd say they want to be in a better position to observe, without being in the line of fire themselves."

"Biters are holding course and position," the tactical officer reported. "they will enter into our effective missile envelope in ten minutes."

"Hold fire another ten minutes, until they are inside our range further. If they dispersed at full acceleration as soon as we fired that could still cause us a problem at extreme range. Program the missiles to diverge slightly to each side and turn in at the last, for head on accuracy and coverage. Make sure they favor a target towards their respective sides for the primary beam and as many secondary beams on target as they can match within their effective angle of fire. Detonate them at five thousand kilometers, that should still be outside their defensive systems range."

"Sir, they bunched up so tight all of them will be within the effective cone. Chances are the four non-primary targets will get two beams each since they don't have any effective divergent velocity and they are large targets in cross section."

"Good. I still want both tubes being reloaded as soon as the first shots are away. If something goes wrong I hope to have a second go at them before they get within their weapon range of us."

"Loading crews are suited up and strapped in right next to the reloads," Tac said.

"Very well, fire upon reaching the ten minute time tic," Frost commanded.

* * *

"Do you have any idea how many weapons the Sharp Claws carries?" Dauntless, XO of the Dart asked.

"I've no idea," Captain Fussy admitted. "One would hope six or more. If he doesn't, I hope he'd be smart enough to run. If he shoots at one or two of the Biters and is empty I'd expect he'd immediately take off and we'll be right behind him. Even if he doesn't hit them, the Biters will be in a foul mood for his trying and ready to fire on anything they see."

"Separation! We have two weapons from the Sharp Claws. That's much further away from them than we've ever seen Biter ships shoot at each other."

"Maybe they will coast a bit. They're pulling away at fifty g. Can they sustain that all the way to the target?"

After a couple minutes the XO said, "Apparently they can. They are aimed a little to each side. I wonder why? Could they be assigned a target at launch?"

"Past the half way mark," he said a bit later, "surely they won't wait to see what these do before launching more? Turning into the targets. They..."

The telescopic screen went black in the middle from overload, the edges a white blaze. The radar went berserk with snow, then dark and the radio emitted a hash of static. Out the forward view port two white hot spheres, tiny in the distance, appeared to the eye as one bright point they were so close. They were painful to look at and as they expanded and cooled through yellow and orange to a brief sullen red over a couple seconds, they were hard to see through the flash blobs on their shocked eyes, before fading completely away.

"I've popped about half our breakers here!" The radar and com tech called. He was resetting them as fast as he could.

"Give the radar priority," Fussy ordered. "Those went off well away from the Biter ships. I don't know if they made them detonate early or what. Do they have any defensive systems that reach out that far?" he asked. "I find it hard to believe they could have hit them with any sort of projectile. Maybe the Biters have some new beam weapon to intercept incoming weapons?"

"Radar is rebooting. We should have returns in a half minute."

The screen painted a couple of cycles to silence. There wasn't any return.

"Is the radar working?" Fussy asked.

"I'll turn it toward the Sharp Claws to test it," the tech said.

Ten seconds later the destroyer showed on the screen.

"The Biter ships," the radar tech said and stopped, unwilling to complete the obvious statement.

"Just gone... " Fussy said.

"But, there's no debris. There should be pieces. At this range, this frequency of radar should show anything as long as your forearm," he protested.

Fussy just looked at him. "Now we know why he only fired two missiles."

"What are we dealing with here?" the tech asked, frightened. "And this is their smaller ship."

"Persevere told us to watch carefully, so we could report what happened. I intend to do that. I also intend to make clear we don't want the Biters to ever acquire such weapons. Can you imagine what they would do with this sort of power?"

"I'm scared of anyone having this kind of power," the tech said.

"And yet, they didn't come in ordering us about and taking what they want," Fussy pointed out.

"Yes. I wonder if we'd be so restrained, wielding that sort of power?"

* * *

"You can take your time now," Frost's second in command, Barbara Wentworth, told the missile loaders. "Our targets are destroyed, so we want you to slow down and load as carefully as you would load the tubes in peacetime. In fact go back and double check all the connections and grapples you've already secured."

* * *

"Captain Fussy, would you care to continue along with us to your chart system number 68 and continue our survey?" Chance asked."

"Just like that? You’ve nothing to say about the Biters?"

"What is there to say? They bit off more than they could chew, didn't they? We warned them and they ignored it. I'm sad, but better them than us. Do you want to conduct some sort of a memorial service or something? I don't know your custom, but we would respect it."

"Memorial? I might throw a party to celebrate the motherless monster's journey through the seventy two levels of their hell. I imagine they got an express ride to the lowest level."

"Ah, we're of a like mind then."

"But we have a lot of questions how you could do what we just saw."

"I imagine the representatives from Derfhome and Fargone back in system 80 will be discussing that sort of thing with your people. I'm just a task force commander of two minor ships. It's certainly not my place to play at ambassador."

"All right. I guess I can see that. Maybe I'm reaching above my station too. Set your course and timing and we'll continue our tour."

Chapter 15

"We just received a messenger drone relayed through from system 69," Talker told them.

"Oh good, Are our fellows and the Dart in that system?" Prosperity asked.

"Been and gone. Also six Biter vessels in a fleet were transiting the system, most likely on the way here to confront your little fleet over damaging their vessel."

"One hopes they will have more courtesy than the last, because if they speak to Chance the way the last one did it will end very badly. He won't aim to nip their rear off," Madonna predicted.

"We wondered if you could do that on purpose."

"I wouldn't guarantee it," Prosperity hurried to say. "If it had been a serious warship, shooting back at him, he wouldn't have taken the risk to just disable it."

"Not serious..." Trader said. "What if I told you the Biters did the same thing with the Sharp Claws and told them to sit and be boarded?"

"Oh, in that case I guess they won't be coming here after all. Sorry about that. Nobody friendly got hurt I hope?"

Talker got that stressed look they recognized. His muzzle got little dimples and scrunched up so tight he showed little incisor points at the front. "Would you expand on why you don't think the Biters will be coming here now?"

"Well, if they screwed around with Captain Frost and the Sharp Claws, I imagine they are all dead now," the Third Mother volunteered before Prosperity could.

"One little ship, destroyed six big ships with two shots!" Talker informed them.

"Wow, x-head missiles are so expensive, I'm surprised he doubled up on them. If he missed any he could have finished them off with other weapon systems, but I wasn't there, so I shouldn't second guess him. He was responsible for protecting the Roadrunner and Dart. I might have gone into overkill mode too, with that responsibility hanging over me. Really, the size of the ship doesn't mean much when you are fighting with missiles," Prosperity said. "If one gets through, you are toast. You seem upset. Did you think it was a fluke when Gordon shot the Biter ship here?"

"No, not a... fluke. My translation software had to ask for fluke and toast, as well as overkill...I'm still not sure I understand toast. With fluke it was at least clear the meaning wasn't a parasite. Overkill I understand all too well. We knew you were dangerous. I guess what I'm trying to say is we didn't know how dangerous."

"We haven't been trying to hide it," Prosperity told him. "We're really not dangerous at all, if you don't threaten us and try to do a hostile boarding of our ship. What were we supposed to do to show you how dangerous we are? Come in all nasty like Biters and blow up a moon to scare you?"

Talker sat looking at them silently a bit before replying.

"Could you blow up a moon? Have you ever blown up a moon?" he asked directly.

Prosperity looked at the third Mum, with a sickly stricken face.

"Don't look at me big mouth; I didn't bring it up."

Talker did a double face plant. Both hands wrapped around his eyes with his muzzle sticking out.

"Well, Gordon kind of accidentally blew a moon up," Prosperity admitted reluctantly, "testing a different kind of missile, a nasty sort of weapon he'd captured from the Earthies we'd really rather not use anyway. It was a crappy little moon, uninhabited, really not anything to worry you... honest."

"You-aren't-making-it-any-better," Talker said from behind his hands.

"But, you can see where we don't want to pass these things out like party favors," the Third Mum explained. "What if you mess up and allow the Biters to get some?"

"Party favors..." Talker muttered, lowering his hands to check the translation software. "Ah, holiday crackers," he said laughing a little. He seemed a bit... unhinged. "Yes, your point is well taken. I too greatly favor keeping them away from the Biters."

"I'm sure we can supply some systems that will let you keep the Biters off your back, but within limits. Within limits where we won't worry we were mistaken about your nature and find out you decided the best way after all, was just to remove the Biters from the universe. I don't think you seem like the sort to do genocide. But we should know you better. I mean, the Biters might have some redeeming qualities, if they can just be trained to realize threatening Gordon is plain suicide."

"I'm sure when these six ships fail to come home it will send some sort of a message to them," Talker allowed. "I don't know if they will be afraid enough to ask what happened to them with any, restraint. They would regard six ships as a formidable fleet. It was probably every ship a major house owned and maybe a couple hires too. They were of course already short the one you damaged. That's about as big a fleet as any Biter clan would own. I have trouble imagining they are capable of cooperating beyond two houses. Even if their existence was threatened."

"That's good. I'd hate to think we precipitated them sending every ship they own against you in a vengeful fleet," the Third Mum worried.

"No, we haven't known the Biters that long, but I'm pretty sure that isn't in their nature. I think this is where I should gratefully accept your limited offer. It would suffice as you said, to keep the Biters 'off our back'. If we can send out single ships again and not worry they'll disappear we can recover our economy that they have disrupted, and get back to exploring for new worlds and resources, just as you are doing."

"Great. Now all we have to do is figure out what you need and how much it is going to cost you," Prosperity said. "Are we talking just Badgers, or are you going to arm your other races too?"

* * *

"Well, we found out why they don't have ships zipping all over at twenty gs acceleration using the artificial gravity to neutralize the acceleration," Prosperity told Thor.

"Oh, I really wondered about that, how did you find out about it? Did they ask you how we do it?"

"We finally had a big enough handle on them with the deal to supply weapons that I felt I could admit we don't have such a thing. They didn't seem too surprised, they said it was one of those unplanned fortuitous discoveries that just happen trying to do something else. Not developed from theory. In this case from research in high temperature superconductors. They do have some excellent superconductor tech worth trading for."

"But why don't they use it in ships," Thor demanded, before Prosperity went too far off subject.

"Oh, he gave me a long technical explanation, but basically, if you try to accelerate a system with an active plate in it the miserable things drag. It displays inertia while it is running, more than just the mass of the machinery. So they use it in something orbiting at a constant velocity and they can use it in a ship after it has attained velocity and is coasting inertial to its destination, but it's pretty useless for what you were talking about. That is, making a ship have less perceived acceleration inside. You'd have to have far more power to spare than we have so far to overcome it. You'd need the power to move the mass of an asteroid around like we can accelerate the Roadrunner."

"Oh well. It was a nice idea," Thor said, disappointed, frowning. "But that contradicts what I know about relativity," he objected.

"I don't know enough to have an opinion. It's still a significant convenience and who knows what our guys will do with the idea once they start playing around with it? It will nullify a static field, so the Badgers use it in amusement parks and in hospitals and facilities for the aged."

"Amusement parks?"

"Apparently kids of a certain age love to walk around on the ceiling and have video taken of them waving upside down."

Thor just shook his head.

* * *

The Dart, Roadrunner and Sharp Claws entered system 68, a boring place unless you were a Planetologist. There were about a dozen Sasquatch in a ship used as a research station on the fringes of the system, light hours away. They were looking into some theory of planetary formation and the hail the Dart sent them wouldn't get there before they'd jumped out. This was as far as they planned to go into the charted star systems.

Their next transition was back towards system 80, into system 66 which had stations of several races and three active mining locations, one a small rocky planet very close to the star, one among an asteroid belt unusually far from the star and one on a moon of a gas giant as far from the star as Uranus was from the sun. Chance wanted to do at least a fly-by of the remote station. It was both an orbital station in the meta-stable point with the gas giant and a mining camp actually on the moon's surface. He was curious about it. It was a low gravity nitrogen - hydrocarbon atmosphere moon, so it made him think of Titan. The surface had rocky outcroppings, but also jelled islands of what would make pretty good napalm. Tidal friction and heat from the gas giant kept it from freezing solid this far from the star.

The gas giant was unusually large and the moon described as rich. He wondered if the giant was large enough it was related to brown dwarfs in its formation and if the system had any similarities to the rich brown dwarf systems they had found. He didn't share the reasons for his interest with Fussy.

They got a courtesy broadcast of the recent system plot from the inner planet, because they were closest the way they'd come in. They had to do a dogleg around the star to get to the far mining station. The Dart announced the intention of all three ships to go to the far station.

As they proceeded around the star they got an update almost as soon as the speed of light lag allowed the news of their arrival to reach to the far station and return.

The Biter ship, The Pride of Cintapan, announced an emergency undock and exit. They had been listed as due to depart in four days. Now they said they would undock in an about two hours and they listed no destination, which Fussy admitted Biters often skipped, feeling it wasn't any business of grass eaters where they come and go.

"Does that have anything to do with us?" Chance asked Fussy.

"Nah, the Captain suddenly remembered it was the Clan Father's naming day and they needed to move it if they didn't want to miss it."

"Badgers have sarcasm?" Frost on the Sharp Claws asked.

"It's an art form," Fussy admitted, after checking the translation software. "But it makes the ones you say are cat-like angry when you use it and the Bills just look at you like you've lost your mind."

"There are a few humorless humans like that too. They complain we need a special sarcasm font for text messages."

"I suspect Biters may be that way," Fussy allowed, "but they are so quick to take offense nobody wants to test it."

"What is Cintapan?" Captain Frost asked.

"A Biter clan, but I have no idea if they name them for a founder, or the territory, or what. If anybody has actual maps of their clan territories, or a written history for them I'm not aware of it. We get bits and pieces, when they talk on open com or get drunk in a bar and argue or brag."

"How long exactly have the Biters been around, being a pain in the butt to your other races?"

"I understand they showed up in the home systems of both the Sasquatch and the Cats about forty of your years ago. They made a few transits and wouldn't talk to anyone. After a couple years they saw enough system transits on the edge of their explored space, off at the other end from where you came in, to figure out where they were coming from."

"They just have one Home world then?" Chance asked. "You said they have three systems, it would surprise me if they had that many living worlds."

"One living world, but the other two systems are very well populated. The Home world was divided up and the boundaries set in stone long before they went to space. Now the only way to have the sort of importance the Biters seem to crave is to claw your way to the top of a clan, or go off and establish your own, even if it is on a barren little airless moon," Fussy said.

They watched the system plot of the Biter ship exiting the direction opposite them. There is a phrase in the proverbs of our religious teachings," Chance told them, "it seems appropriate here. "The wicked flee when no one pursues," he quoted.

"That translates very well," Fussy said. Was that a Badger grin?

* * *

"The Badgers have been talking about missile systems," Prosperity said, "because they saw we used a missile on the Biters and the reports about the Sharp Claws made clear they used missiles, but I mentioned we have other weapons systems. They aren't as keen on those seeing we preferred missiles and used them first, but would you consider demonstrating the peashooter for them? Unfortunately they looked up a peashooter in our part web, saw the children's toy, and it didn't impress them to see the weapon system we want to sell them named after a cheap plastic tube used by kids to shoot seeds."

"Yeah, well Happenstance Cohen would probably flip out if he heard the name we adapted for his system. You can look up what he called it if you want. It was some big long technical description nobody would use day to day. I'm sure it's on the paper work. I'm not responsible for doing his PR for him or advertising it. I think a demo will impress them whatever we call it.

"Are there any Biter ships scheduled in system for a demo," Thor asked straight faced.

"You are a wholly evil Derf and will come to a terrible end," the Third Mother predicted.

"Thank you, Mum," Thor said, unrepentant.

"What would you consider a suitable target?" Gordon asked.

"A chunk of ice would make a spectacular target," Lee suggested. "Pick one small enough and it will vaporize completely. You create no traffic hazard from it as a bonus."

"Ask them to suggest a ship sized chunk of ice. But don't discuss effect, suggest it on the basis of demonstrating accuracy foremost," Thor said.

"How far out can we hit that big of a target for sure?" Lee asked.

"The proper question is how far out can we hit a target half that size, because when you are showing off you want a good margin of error. If we just nip the edge of it or take three shots they are not going to be wowed at all." Thor brought up the targeting software on his screen and considered it. "For a target the size of the Retribution, I'd say seventy thousand kilometers, as long as it is at something like normal orbital velocities."

"Just for my own curiosity, how far would you take it as a war shot?" the Third Mother asked.

"If it was my only target and I didn't have any other ships shooting at me, I'd put three shots on a target that size at a million point two kilometers and trust the spread of variation inherent in system to put at least one of them on target. The peashooter is not only cheap to buy, it's very cheap per shot too."

"Talker is speaking of arming every non-Biter ship in their space if they can talk everybody into it. That would be near two hundred ships. I can't see any chance they'd spend enough to do that with missiles. But this peashooter gun they might buy. What are you grinning at?" she asked Gordon.

"I'm picturing the look on Happenstance Jones Cohen's face, the fellow who designed the peashooter system, if we asked him for price and delivery on two hundred installed systems."

"It's a long way back to Fargone, how would they go about taking so many ships that far to have major work done on them?" Lee asked.

"Oh, they'd never try to do it that way," Gordon assured her. "Ours were installed at New Japan. Happenstance was working there when he sold them to us. For all I know he is back to Fargone, but it doesn't matter, they would bring a factory ship here and set up to do them in orbit, with another ship making a constant supply run back and forth to keep them supplied with parts. In fact, they probably would just contract with the locals for brackets and frames and simple mechanical pieces."

"Thanks for mentioning that. I'm sure it will help when they consider what to buy," Prosperity told him. "After all, with missiles there isn't a whole lot we could ask them to fab."

"They are still going to need to keep this system from falling into Biter hands. If anything it would be easier to reverse engineer," the Third Mum worried.

"I had a little discussion on that with Trader," Prosperity revealed. "When you and Talker were going on in detail and we were out of the conversation anyway."

"Indeed? And it is relevant how?"

"Part of the standoff they have now, is the Biters don't have the sort of military that can land on a planet and hold territory. But part of what is restraining them is also that when they first found the Bills they pirated a ship and it became known. The second time they tried to board and seize a Bill ship the fellow stopped as ordered and then when they came to rest and sent a party to enter his lock, he rotated and rammed them under power from a few hundred meters away. Admittedly, they were going something less than a hundred meters a second when he impacted. But that's plenty to ruin your day in a spaceship. The Biters got a lot more cautious about boarding Bill ships after that and the others too. So it has been a bit of a stand-off most times, unless the Biters think they have an easy target."

"Heh, put a Bill on every peashooter equipped ship, with a dead-man switch," Thor suggested.

"That might not work," the Third Mother warned, "given the story was told more in a 'So be aware the Bills are nuts too,' frame of reference than a, 'Isn't that great?' story."

"Still, I'm encouraged any of them have the guts to do that," Thor insisted.

"They are aware now we had self destruct charges in our exploration ships," Prosperity revealed.

"But that Bill did it with style. I'd imagine some of his crew might have even survived."

"Yes, he had everybody suit up and strap in. He stayed on the flight deck, forward, in case he had to maneuver. He hit the Biter ship square in the side and broke her back. The wreckage had enough velocity away from the boarding party that they were unable to get back to any shelter. So they died too. Most of his crew was eventually rescued," Prosperity told them.

"We should consider Bills for recruitment if their dietary needs are not too crazy," Gordon decided.

"The others might make decent crew," Lee protested, "but I can see where you'd favor Bills for command positions, we know at least some of them can make the tough decisions."

"You once told me you didn't know if you could throw that switch," Gordon reminded her.

"I've grown up a lot since then," Lee said.

* * *

The three ships continued in formation and chatted on open com as they headed for the system fringes and the mining camp.

"That's a really impressive base, so far from the star. It's cold out there," Frost on the Sharp Claws observed, reading the system scan and information package. It was on a moon, but a big enough moon to have a substantial atmosphere. The base was more a small city in size, but more like a refinery or chemical plant in appearance. Not an isolated group of a few buildings that they expected. But they were surprised to hear less than a hundred Bills worked there. It was all industrial buildings and processing facilities, not any sort of normal residential colony. Certainly not a tourist spot.

"The Bills rotate down and come to the station for leave. It's considered a hardship post. The living quarters and the equipment on the surface are built on a sort of barge. The surface can be fragile and they have a lot of small quakes," Fussy told them.

"What can possibly be worth the hazard of mining there?" Chance wondered.

"Gems," Fussy said.

"We use rocks for decoration too, diamonds and other transparent or translucent stones," Frost said, "but most are synthesized or we find them on much more hospitable planets."

"Nobody has been able to synthesize this mineral. They've been trying for over a hundred years now. If you can figure out how let me know, you'll make our fortunes."

"I didn't know the Bills had been in space so long," Frost said, surprised.

"We are both been shy to exchange detailed histories, though our dictionaries are revealing things. Words have historical contexts. That you have so many languages amazed us."

"What's so special about this gem? Do you have some images of it?" Chance asked.

"If you take a very high resolution video of it, much better than what we normally use, it starts to give you an idea. My suggestion is you forego that. It tends to blunt the experience of seeing the real thing the first time." Fussy said.

"You make it sound like a religious experience," Frost joked.

"It may be just that for a Bill," Fussy said, dead serious. "They have several names for it, but one of the first was, The Eye of God."

"Why would the Biters stop here then?" Frost wondered.

"You misjudge them," Fussy insisted. "They aren't very likable, but they appreciate beauty in their own way. They are among the Bill's best customers. If a Clan Lord decides he must have an Eye, the clan will get him one, no matter how many die to get the price raiding, or what deprivation they must go through to accumulate it."

"They haven't tried to just take them?" Persevere, normally quiet, asked skeptically.

"There was a Bill ship from this station, carrying a shipment of Eyes, the Biters stopped and tried to board. The Bill rammed the Bitter ship and broke her in half," Fussy said.

"Ah, so it wasn't over a ship load of shower curtains and flip-flops," Frost said, suddenly insightful. "That would put a chill on them trying it again wouldn't it?"

Fussy looked at his computer an unusually long time, very confused. "I had to query what those items are. Low cost consumer goods? That wasn't sarcasm, what exactly was it though?"

"Just humor, it didn't have the zing of sarcasm," Frost explained, "much more light-hearted."

"I suspect the Kitties and the Bills would fail to understand this sort of humor too. It's too abstract and subtle for them," Fussy said.

"Then it looks like Badgers are a good match for Humans, as far as how we think," Chance decided.

"You and the Derf seem a lot alike to us so far. We haven't seen enough of the Hinth to tell."

"I know they have humor, but we haven't seen enough of them to know much either. We're still working on it," Chance explained.

"You'd better look fast," Frost said. "Before they are contaminated with Human ideas. We Derf had a much simpler wholesome humor before the Humans corrupted us."

For some reason that cracked Fussy up.

* * *

"We have a working model of the gravity machine. It only works for a circle about a half meter across, but I'm assured the principle is the same both up and down scale," Prosperity announced. "We also have the tech to make the superconductors it uses."

"What is that costing us?" Lee asked.

"A Badger ship is going to accompany us back to our space and get escorted to New Japan. We will see that he arrives safely with an armed escort, help with cultural differences with New Japan and use our resources and connections to get them set up with a embassy or a consulate as appropriate. We will apply a credit of fifty million Fargone silver Dollars, or the equivalent in other fungible credit, currency or metal, toward their initial purchase of weapons systems."

"You stole it!" Lee gasped.

"Hardly," Prosperity objected, suddenly defensive. "It was the number they suggested when we told them what we paid for our peashooters."

"Did they get uncomfortable when you didn't try to haggle them down?" Gordon asked.

"No, I did pause quite a long time and consult my computer. They looked like they wanted to talk a few times, but I asked them to give me a minute when they got fidgety. Finally I said yes, I could agree to that. They got sort of shy after the fact and asked if I needed to get a confirmation of that from Lee or Gordon, but I figured with all the claims we have I could easily guarantee it myself. I'm sure the lowest share will be much more than that. They did seem a little shocked when I said I'd guarantee it from my own funds. I don't think they really understand yet how much our explorers can make from a successful voyage. Of course, if you don't want the deal for the common shares I'd buy it," he offered.

"Do we look stupid?" Thor asked, amused, not angry.

"You look far too dangerous to answer that question." Prosperity quipped.

"We'll get all the Solar patents for this thing," Lee said. "Does Fargone have patents?"

"Yes, Fargone and New Japan too. There are even a few of the minor colonies where it would pay to file. If they can't make them now they might within the life of the patent," Prosperity suggested.

"It wouldn't be fair to everybody else, to not share out major discoveries like this to the whole company," Gordon said, "even if the Claims Commission rules don't cover alien tech finds. We simply never considered this sort of thing happening in our crew contracts. We need to correct that next voyage, or even ask for a revision on their contracts from the crew now. It's to their benefit after all. But I also think Prosperity should not go unrewarded for taking the initiative and getting us such a plum. Also for not trying to direct it to Fargone or steal it himself when it isn't covered in our contracts. He acted on principles. Not everyone would."

"Agreed, if only to make him comfortable that he can cover that fifty million," Thor agreed. "He looked a little worried to me when he said it."

"Five full crew shares," Lee said, with conviction. "This is going to make us billions."

Thor just nodded. "Agreed," Gordon said.

"Wow, I was planning on being rich, but this...it's fantastic. I appreciate it."

"Just keep it to yourself if you would. We don't need envy running wild, creating jealousy."

"No problem. I finally convinced them on the way out that I won't play poker with them, despite my falling off the wagon with the Badgers. This would get them all stirred up again to pester me to play."

Chapter 16

"They are OK with you docking on a stand-off boom," Fussy informed him. They'd let him arrange things since they had never met Humans or Derf. Badgers were comfortably familiar.

"They have the bare-bones report that the Biter ships in system 69 were destroyed," Fussy reported. "I have to admit I like that English phrase overkill. Horribly graphic, but I'm going to start using it in Trade. Anyway...the system controllers in 69 took to heart your request not to publish the battle in their system scan. In fact they decided that it would be smarter not to export any of that data on outgoing messenger drones, as Biters elsewhere might get access to it, so their usual traffic summery was censored. I think that has the locals upset here. I've been around Bills enough to tell when they are upset about something, maybe not read the fine nuances, but these Bills are uncomfortable."

"Should we change our plans and forego docking? I was starting to hope we could see one of these gems. But they might be afraid to even display one to us," Chance concluded.

"No, the Bills are not," he consulted his pad, "timid. If anything less then we Badgers. They enjoy some fairly violent sports we find excessive, but I've never known them to be mindlessly aggressive."

"I wanted to see this close up, but again, I'm going to skip going on station," Chance decided. "This time I'm thinking of to allowing the Sharp Claws a chance to dock and send somebody on station. They have a big enough crew I'd suggest they can put four crew on station, but I want two of them designated as body guards and armored up just as if they had a lock to guard attached right to the station."

"Do you mind if we dock the Dart, so we finally get a chance to meet some of your crew face to face?" Fussy asked.

"Do you have any serious security to guard your lock?" Chance asked.

"We do not normally expect any problem at stations run by our races. All we'd have are the side arms most of us own and our armory has a couple longer weapons you'd call shotguns. It isn't our custom to wear arms on board, I'm sure you have noticed."

"No powered armor or heavier weapons?"

"No, I've never heard of a ship being assaulted at dock," Fussy repeated.

Chase thought about it a bit, frowning. "We do have a history of docked ships being taken. In fact Gordon has done it, quite skillfully. He is rather notorious for it in fact. I assumed responsibility for your protection and I have this itch, on the edges of my thoughts...It's hard to explain. I saw the Biters left the system, but we sometimes make a run and fail to jump, we stop short and a jump out isn't as radiant as coming in, we could get suckered. Especially with that huge gas giant filling half the sky. Somebody could come up from behind it and over the horizon with very little time to react."

"That seems paranoid to me, but I can't say it is impossible," Fussy admitted. "I came near dropping your protection before and am glad I didn't. I'll take your advice, even tell the station we changed our mind and press on if you wish."

"No, no, let's visit, but we'll change how. Rather than dock two ships we'll stand-off and keep watch. Since you can dock, let's send a team of four over to the Dart from the Sharp Claws while we are still in transit, to provide security when you dock. Can you accommodate four for a few hours before and after docking? You have a crew of six, right? So you'd be crowded. More than doubled if one or two are Derf since they take more life support. But only by your leave. I won't demand putting anyone aboard your vessel if you don't want it."

"I'm not afraid of you," Fussy said. Then he paused and got what they knew for a Badger smile. "The software warns me that might be taken as a challenge. What I mean is, I'm absolutely terrified at your entire culture and technology, after seeing what happened to the Biters. However I am confident of your...damn this language! I want to say this exactly." He stopped and studied the pad at length and input a few inquiries. "I am sure of your personal goodwill. I think that's what I want to say. You could be ordering me about and instead you ask politely. I appreciate that. I will take your folks on my ship with no fear they have ill intent. There is room, if a bit tight for Derf and the life support could carry them all for a week, but why not send a couple of my crew across to the Sharp Claws? It would be a treasured experience and make it less crowded on the Dart."

"OK, everybody should carry a few extra days of basic rations, if only survival bars, in case something fouls up and they can't transfer right back," Chance insisted. "You can take one of my people on station with you and if everything is calm another later. But the two at the ship are going to be armored up and whoever goes with you will have on plain passive armor and go armed."

"You are very cautious," Fussy said, but it didn't appear to be with disapproval.

"Anything I can anticipate, no matter how unlikely, I'll plan for. Then when the unexpected happens maybe we'll have a shot at surviving it," Chance agreed. "We'd say I am a belt and suspenders sort of guy," he explained.

"Neither of which we need, lacking the custom of pants," Fussy said, examining his pad, "but I do take your meaning."

* * *

"I've showed them Bucky-foam, corrugated Bucky and seamless graphene. They have shown us flexible ceramics. We are agreed in principle to a straight across trade if I can get your approval as expedition leaders," Prosperity said to Lee and Gordon.

"The ceramics are worth it?" Lee asked.

"They make springs from ceramics that work at temperatures metal springs won't. They make pressure vessels from ceramics. They can be made slightly malleable. And they are corrosion resistant in stuff were we'd have to use platinum group metals or gold. Honest, it's terrific technology."

Lee looked at Gordon and got a little nod. "Go for it then," she agreed.

"We have a plant trade worked up. We give them corn, sunflowers, kudzu, pearl potatoes, kelp, wild roses, sugar cane, two kinds of maple and balsa."

"Can they eat corn?" Gordon asked. "I've never cared for it myself, it upsets my digestion."

"They may be able to. Some of their small rodent like creatures can. However just the chemical stocks and plastics you can get from it interests them. They don't have many crops that can be grown in a totally automated system like corn. In less developed areas it might even be used as fuel that doesn't have to be pelletized."

"I hope they know not to let kudzu get away from them. It can take over an area and be horrible to eradicate," Gordon said.

"That is exactly why they are interested in it. They are expressing an interest in Terraforming some water worlds now that they know we are doing it. They have algae of their own, quite a few aggressive water plants and grasses, but nothing like kudzu."

"Why maple trees?" Lee asked.

"They saw pictures of tiger-maple and bird's-eye maple artifacts. Apparently such rich figuring is unknown in their woody plants. They want the kelp because they have nothing that concentrates iodine biologically like kelp. Iodine is horribly expensive. The cane sugar they can digest in limited quantity. Roses they want because it forms a barrier in climates where they have no similar dense thorned plant that will survive and they have some livestock they would fence with it that need vitamin C just like Humans. A thick tangle of thorned roses would fence and the rose hips supply the vitamin. All their barrier plants are tropical. Balsa, well I didn't realize how useful balsa is until I started reading. This is just a start. They are interested in bamboos, many trees and decorative flowers. It's a long list. Do you know what we didn't bring that they really want?"

"What?" Lee asked Prosperity.

"Bees. A lot of the plants will have to be pollinated by hand. We have to send bees back on the next ship. They are curious if the honey will be safe for any of their races too."

"What are we getting?" Lee asked.

" They're giving us a plant that concentrates heavy metals from poor ore, in a seed that looks like lentils. Gold, lead, uranium..."

"No kidding?" Gordon perked right up.

"A tree very much like Copaifera langsdorffii, what they call the 'kerosene tree', but it is easier to tap, grows in much colder climates and gets bigger trunks that make insect resistant lumber. We also get a similar tree that the sap is a mix of waxes after you boil off the volatiles and it is the basis of entire industries. In pre-industrial times they made candles from it and dipped food in it to preserve it."

"Impressive. Even if I never heard of the Copa...whatever," Gordon admitted.

"We also get a grass that is just about impossible to trample to death. You can drive over it on a regular basis and it doesn't get ruts. It's so short animals can't over-graze it. The root system is a mat that goes down a half meter, but it can get away from you like kudzu too. You could use it in a restricted area like a sports field though and maybe in Terraforming. There is a plant I'd call a succulent. It will grow in very brackish water and I don't know about Humans or Derf yet, but Badgers can live off the water in the leaves without any free water to drink."

"No food plants?" Lee asked.

"Later, both sides are testing like crazy. Some things will be safe, some not. It's going to take years to work through all of them. We also get a bush that when twigs are broken off it forms a drop of resin. I've smelled some and it is just a wonderful odor. It has medicinal qualities for Badgers, but just the scent is worthwhile. Then there is a tree that makes unusually strong lumber that is very resistant to splitting. A plant that grows fuzzy seed pods similar to cotton, but the fiber compacts like wool, it will felt or shrink down like boiled wool and it grows in poor soils. Another fast growing tree that has wood that looks pretty normal, but it ages to a bright scarlet all the way through. It's tough so they use it for parquet flooring. They want purple heart when we can get it back to them.

"What is purple heart?" Gordon asked.

"A wood that is naturally purple, or at least a nice lilac in color. It makes good flooring too. We also need to get wintergreen sent out. We don't have any but when I put on some lotion that had it as an ingredient the Badgers went nuts on it."

"For the scent?" Lee asked.

"Uh, sort of. Have you ever seen a cat with catnip? I went and washed my hands and it took Talker a half hour to get the silly grin off his face."

"We'll have to explore drugs, very carefully," Gordon decided.

"Yeah, opium poppies, Cannabis, all that stuff. We haven't talked mushrooms at all. I don't know if they have a fungus equivalent. We are also getting a 'shoe' tree that you peel the bark and it makes a great substitute for leather. Some of these things may not have a market on Earth, but will be good for colony worlds."

"See if they would be interested in cork trees," Gordon suggested and Prosperity made a note.

"We get a funny little moss that grows in freezing conditions. It makes its own antifreeze and will even grow on glaciers from just little pockets of windblown dust. I figure that for Terraforming too."

"How about ornamentals? People will pay a lot for pretty stuff," Gordon said.

"Oh, we'll both have lots of those, but they are specialty items. They won't generate the income of the practical sort of things we're trading now, but we'll get to them."

"I agree," Lee said. "First things first, because eventually we'll see other ships from our sector here, competing for these in trade. Let them get the leftovers after we go for the big stuff."

"And last item for this trade, we get a plant that has a bunch of long spiky leaves. It's pretty and a lot of Badgers keep one growing in a pot. You grab a spike and pull it out, which is pretty easy with the ones on the outside edge and it bleeds a thick clear sap. You don't want to get it on your hands. I swear the stuff can glue just about anything. I want to try gluing stuff on Teflon. They glued a little cube of steel on a steel plate," he showed them with his fingers the size, "and invited me to get it off. I had to hit it with a big hammer so hard one end was mushroomed to get it off."

"Why would a plant do that?" Lee asked.

"It's an air plant, it propagates by the outside spines blowing away and they stick where they hit."

"Hah! Sounds like the barnacles that grow on Earth ships," Gordon said. "All this sounds good, but I'd urge you to make as many trades as you can while we are here. Lee makes a good point we'll have competition eventually. I'd acquire some of their important food plants even if you are not sure we'll be able to eat them. If we can modify them they may have some use."

"That's a point. They are very conservative about modifying their plants. They had a few unfortunate accidents early in their gene engineering programs and created an exotic that almost crowded the original out of existence. We can screen all of them for drugs too. Even if we synthesize them after we discover them, living systems always have completely new compounds."

"Yeah, look at the money Thorn generates," Gordon agreed. "It way too inhospitable to colonize, but the pharmaceuticals are still coming out of the jungles twenty years since it was discovered."

"All right. Thanks for your approvals. I'll do what you said and try to peddle off every organism we have for something. And we haven't even started on cultures of microorganisms or animals."

* * *

The Dart, Sharp Claws and Roadrunner all got in tight formation and went ballistic. Tight being relative. The Dart and Sharp Claws were bright dots like stars from the view port of the Roadrunner. They used the shuttle externally grappled on the Sharp Claws to take their people to the Dart. Chance kept his crew, they'd already had a station liberty, if cut short, and he still felt the circumstances too risky to want to leave his command again.

The Badgers going back to the Sharp Claws were able to use the Human seats with little trouble. A minor matter of adjusting belts and they worked fine. The zero g toilet was a little harder, but with care it was useable too. Frost worried about everything and belatedly asked if the system could process Badger wastes for sure. The engineer seemed amused and informed him it could handle a whole Badger if you could fit one down the toilet. Thankfully their guests didn't hear that conversation.

The Badgers were awkward in zero g. They were used to having the gravity plates and neither of them were of a specialty who went into weightlessness regularly for their work. They asked belatedly and were assured they not get ill from lack of gravity in the planned time frame.

The Sharp Claws sent one Derf and three Humans to the Dart, mindful of the Derf being in cramped quarters, two of them would have a hard time passing in their corridors. More so because they had gravity plates in the flight deck, central corridor and for bunks. Squeezing past in zero g would be easier. The gravity in bunks was adjustable unlike what they'd seen in the stations.

The Derf, Mozart, had full armor and weapons, not the ceremonial stuff, but modern. Two of the Humans had the only two sets of Human powered armor and heavy weapons the Sharp Claws carried. The extra Human got stuck in a cabin with the Derf, because his fellow's gear took up a full cabin. That still made a Badger hot bunk with an off shift crewman.

If the Bills station saw them ease acceleration for a bit and then correct course and resume they didn't comment on it.

The Badgers were invited to the flight deck of the Sharp Claws to occupy the two jump seats that could be pulled down for guests. They had a bit more of a tail than Derf, but it seemed to be more fluffy than substantial. They tucked it between their legs to sit or use a pressure suit.

"How would you like to be addressed?" Frost asked the Badgers. "If your name is too complex you can use a translated English word. My English name Frost, is after a poet I admire. My full Derf name is a genealogy you wouldn't want to repeat over and over. My second here is Barbara."

"I'm of rank over my fellow here, just so you know if the situation calls for orders. My name is a very simple short sound, I don't think you will have trouble forming, it is Sin. Can you handle that?"

"Oh Sin is easy," Barbara said, grinning.

"That seems to amuse you. Is it something inappropriate as a name in English?"

"I don't think it inappropriate. It is amusing however. Sin in English means those behaviors that are often forbidden by religious conventions."

"Ah, well there are not many in the space services heavily religious. I doubt that will be a problem then. Just because I am curious, what do your religious see as sins?"

"Oh, there are different views among various Earth cultures, but there is a classic list of seven sins common to English speakers. They are Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy and Pride."

The other Badger was cracking up and did a face stroking that seemed to calm it, even though it shed no tears like a Human might. "That will mostly do nicely for my commander," he allowed, after checking the translator. "Although I'd never accuse him of Sloth and if he has any Envy he's always hidden it well."

"Well, what does Sin mean in Badger?" Barbara asked.

"It's shiny or bright," Sin allowed, "but I'll keep it. Having an amusing name doesn't bother me. I'm seeing your Fargoers have outrageous names, so I can too."

"And what shall we call you," Frost asked the other Badger.

"Ta-ta-ta doesn't seem natural to English, so call me Chipper or Frisky. It means having a natural good mood, not a bad thing, unless done to excess early in the morning before stimulants."

"Ah yes, we also have morning people and not morning people," Frost agreed.

"I wonder, would it be offensive to ask to feel what your fur is like? To touch you? If it isn't customary just tell me to forget it," Barbara asked.

"Oh, Badgers aren't fussy about bumping or getting crammed in together. Go ahead if you'll do it as a trade," Chipper offered.

Barbara felt around his ears and stroked one carefully flat with the natural lay of the hair like you would a cat.

"Damn, you're hired. You'd pay good money to have somebody brush you like that at a vacation resort, especially after a nice hot shampoo and air dry." He felt the back of her hand and then her hair briefly, moving on to her face, especially the ear and then pushed her nose over gently."

"That doesn't hurt?" he asked cautiously.

"No, there's bone up higher," she said, touching that part, "it gets broken a lot if we get smacked in the face, but the bottom part is very flexible. We like to get rubbed, but not brushed obviously. But a good hard rubbing, a massage, by somebody with strong hands is nice. They often use a little oil, because our hands are very grippy." She rolled her hand over. "See all the fine ridges?" she asked.

"That's interesting. It keeps it from sliding?"

"Yes and you can identify people from the pattern they leave behind if they touch things. We call them finger prints."

"That's kind of creepy. I think I'd wear gloves for the privacy issues."

"Oh it takes a little effort, but yeah, you don't leave prints at the scene of a crime."

Barbara reached up barely touched his nose and stroked down the side of his muzzle flattening the whiskers. His eyes got big and his commander laughed so hard he curled a little and held his middle like a Human.

"Keep that up and Chipper will be inviting you to his cabin," he told her.

"Oh, is that bad?" she asked jerking her hand back.

"No, it's very, very good. But very strange that it feels so good from a non-Badger, but I guess I'm...I don't know how to say it," he said, checking his pad. "What do you say for – having a set of involuntary biological responses?" he asked.

"Ah, we use a lot of electronics that can be programmed to do different things, so we've come to call biological systems that can only respond one way as 'hard wired' like very simple electronics."

"Yes and it doesn't help that you smell good."

"How about us?" Frost asked. "Do Derf smell good too or bad?"

"I honestly can't smell you at all," Chipper said. "Maybe if I stick my nose right against you I'll get something, but I smelled the Humans as soon as I took my helmet off. I just wasn't sure what I was smelling until Barbara had her hand right by my nose and it was a strong scent."

Barbara leaned close and sniffed by his ear. "I'm not getting much either," she said, "but most Humans don't have a terribly keen sense of smell. Can you smell them Frost?"

"I can, but it's complex. It would be really hard to explain it to you. They don't have a strong odor like an Earth dog, but it's a little stronger than Human to me. Not to offend, but it's more pleasant."

"That's OK," Barbara allowed. "When somebody messes up and feeds a Derf cheese, you'll have a whole new olfactory experience," she warned them.

* * *

"I've got some subordinates working at it, because you brought so many seeds. Next trip we need to bring a lot of cuttings of things that don't seed. We have two more sets of ten plants to trade and working on more. I'll try to have a match for every one you have. I don't think it is worth going over item by item like we did the first ten," Prosperity said.

"You're right," Gordon agreed, waving away the opportunity to review the trades with a true hand. "You're doing a fine job and we're not experts in it anyway. But I appreciate hearing about the first set so we have an idea what sort of trades we're getting."

"The Badgers are very interested in our advanced plastics. They have little in the way of very strong plastics. Some of the Bucky tech we offered them was for plastic matrixes, but they also were interested in sapphire and boron nitride reinforced and plastics with Bucky tubes and aligned Graphene. They don't have much of any plastic tech that works past two hundred, two hundred-fifty degrees max. And they don't have anything that works well for body armor. They never did much with plastic lenses either."

"What are they offering?" Lee asked.

"They have more ceramic tech. Not the flexible stuff we got already, but this stuff is very strong even if it has a failure mode more like what we are accustomed to. It can be formed to very complicated shapes and work at high temperature under tension. The other stuff we bought would creep in something like a turbine. They can make the neatest little gas turbines," he demonstrated with his hands a size like a two liter bottle, "suitable for ground cars and stationary power. They have very complex blade shapes and run at such a high temperature differential that they are very efficient. Hard to believe, but they make gun barrels from ceramic and trust them."

"That's nice but it seems like we should get more than these little turbines and barrels for the whole huge spectrum of our plastic tech. Maybe trade for some of it?" Gordon suggested.

"I agree. And that's what I told Talker, the other thing he offered was a system they have to grow diamond. Now I know we can grow gem quality and we can grow a diamond film on things, either polycrystalline or aligned. But they can grow sheets a meter across anywhere from a fraction of a millimeter thick to about fifteen millimeters thick. And at the high end both faces can be flat within about three atomic diameters. It isn't super fast or cheap, but we can't do it at all."

"Is there that much use for it?" Lee wondered.

"Our people seemed to think so. They started talking about doping it for semiconductors and optics. I believe it would be superior to some of the polycrystalline stuff on a substrate we are using for heat sinks right now.

"All right, I guess every deal doesn't have to be to our advantage," Lee allowed. "We'll make it up on others I expect."

"They also proposed we trade all our glass tech in an even swap, one for one. We each have certain things that are attractive to the other, but neither side has a clear lead."

"If that's your judgment, fine. I don't know enough about glass to have any idea," Gordon admitted.

"They still grind high precision lenses, while we cut them on a lathe. We can make tremendously strong glasses by soaking them in molten salts, but they can form them that way without a secondary process. Things like that. It seems like a fair even trade."

Gordon just nodded agreement and Prosperity realized he was over selling and went on.

"Trader wants a private deal to be provided a comprehensive list of all our games, card games and casino games, as well as the older board games, and even children's games like hop-scotch and jacks. He saw just enough on the partial web to want them all."

"But not video games?" Gordon asked, "those could get complicated for us legally."

"No, they don't commonly have computers that can run our games even if you rewrote them and I've refrained from pushing computer tech yet, because that gets into too many things that can be used in weapons systems."

"Ah, yeah, that's going to be a problem eventually," Gordon acknowledged.

Chapter 17

"I'm nervous about that Biter ship," Chance admitted. "We'll guard the Dart at dock, but tell me your thoughts on it. If you were the Biter captain and wanted to sneak back here to catch us at station how would you do it?" he asked Fat.

"I come around the gas giant retrograde. With the higher closing speed we'd have less time to react to them and they would have a better chance of deploying whatever weapons they have against us. It should be obvious to them we are not pushovers. They need every advantage they can get."

"So you see them making a fast pass and releasing weapons. What if we all docked? I doubt they know we don't have docking collars, or chose not to grab on a mast."

"I suspect they don't give a damn for the station and would fire on us at dock. At the rate they would pass I'd be shocked if their weapons were accurate enough to hit a ship cleanly and not the station."

"All right, I can see that. I'm going to advise Fussy to demand a dock on the trailing edge of the station. That way if they come around the gas giant retro' anywhere near in the plane of rotation it will be hidden behind the station. So where should we be?" he demanded of the more experienced man.

Fat Ortega pouted and his eyes narrowed. "Backing up just a minute, why do you think they might not be in the plane of rotation?"

"It's a much more difficult maneuver, requiring accurate data on the orbit of the moon and movements of a moon in a system of many interacting moons like this can be complex. So it is one we'd be less likely to anticipate. Also it would negate my action of docking the Dart to the trailing edge. I believe we have much superior radar to theirs, but still our coverage isn't total. We have to orient our ship so we are covering the section where they are most likely to appear and that isn't going to be over either pole of the gas giant."

"Do you really think they might do that?"

"No, I'd give it a five percent probability or less, but I have to consider it. I don't think they are that subtle and I have my doubts they have the piloting skills or computer capacity to carry it off. But I wanted to bounce the idea off you."

"I don't see it either. I'd put the Sharp Claws ahead of the moon, twenty or thirty degrees, in roughly the same orbit. That gives them a big lead seeing the Biters if they come back and a clear field of fire."

"And what if they approach in chase instead, or over one of the poles?"

"We cover that by either trailing the moon in the Roadrunner and watching behind us, or assuming a tight, fast polar orbit on the gas giant so we can check the other side on a regular basis."

"Now that's why I pick your brain, because I'd never have thought of that last option. As attractive as that is it would take so much fuel to assume that station and lift back from so deep against the big planet that I'd need to refuel before we left the system. No, we'll watch behind and mostly take our chances with the polar approaches. Just peek now and then."

* * *

"Talker and Trader had a fellow today from the Badger government," Prosperity said. "They asked if they could bring him in first. I asked if they were getting any blow-back from their government about our business. They swear that's not the case, that he had questions and wanted to meet us since we had some authority to speak for our governments. He had a lot of questions about Derfhome and how the Mothers govern and somewhat less about Fargone. He seemed to find the Derf stranger than Fargoers. Talker told us that just to be clear, he's technically a government worker too, but this guy is higher powered than him though not his direct boss."

"He'll have a nervous breakdown if he tries to figure out Earth governments," Gordon said.

"He indicated he'll be one of the Badgers going to New Japan. What I got is that the Badgers only had what we would call police until they ran into the Biters. They haven't had any military for some generations. Now they have recreated a sort of militia based on local police leadership because of the Biter threat. The government is not interested in owning space ships, they want ship owners to cover the cost of their own defense, but they realize after talking with us that other places like New Japan may demand a central authority to deal with for defense. The ship owners also have a sort of trade association. They will be sending their own spox along too and he'll have the real financial authority, not the government spox."

"What about the other races? Are they sending anybody?" Lee asked.

"They are still negotiating. The Bills have the second largest number of ships and their own ship owners association. They are talking now about merging and the Bills might send their own spox, or even their own ship. They have a queen who I'd call an Empress, because she is appointed for life by a bunch of local matriarchs who sound very similar to the Derf's Mothers. The Sasquatch only have a handful of ships and the Cats apparently just go on the other's vessels. Talker intimated the Sasquatch don't have very good tech or ships and probably aren't worried about Biters pirating them because they don't have much worth stealing."

"I'm surprised the Badgers didn't send a government rep before this," Lee said.

"Talker said they had to get him interested," Prosperity said. "This may sound strange to us, but they don't routinely get involved in off planet affairs. They regard their planetary territory as their interest."

"Then their government didn't build the station?" Lee asked.

"No, it's a private station." Prosperity said. "Run on company rules."

"The station at Derfhome is private too," Gordon told him, "But all the Earth habitats started out under Grounder laws, until a few of them kicked the Earthies out or went over to Lunar influence."

"Derfhome station isn't under the Mother's law?" Prosperity wondered, surprised.

"They never displayed any interest in it. It would be – awkward – to assert it as under their purview. My Red Tree Mothers went up there to negotiate with the North Americans, but they never issued law on the station about the station. Now, you bring up a very interesting point. A lot of Derf have an ownership interest in the station now. If they declared they would rather be governed by a triad of Mothers instead of by company regulation I wonder how it would go over? They would have to have a majority of course. But in a normal Derf clan there is no ownership like private cubic on a station or real estate in a city. There is no private entrepreneurial activity or even directing your own education and career as station and city people presume. It would be interesting to see if the clan arrangement could be flexible enough to adapt to the different circumstances, wouldn't it?" Gordon asked, smiling.

"That's the sort of interesting I'd rather see from afar," Prosperity assured him.

"Consider if the reverse happened," Lee suggested.

"What would the reverse be?" Gordon asked.

"What if a majority of Derf in a clan told the Mothers they wish to run their own lives, or they will leave and go to a city or to space, stripping the clan of most of the labor force?"

"What would that leave for the Mothers to do?" Gordon objected.

"A great deal. If they didn't have to micromanage what will be served for breakfast and what the math lesson for the school children will be today, they still could decide the laws about how people treat each other, they could still manage the farming and send hunters out on the clan land. It's just they'd have to recruit for jobs like that and pay wages instead of ordering people to work at this or that."

"I'll have to think on that awhile," Gordon admitted. "It's too different for me to see how it would work all at once."

"I know my knowledge of Derf custom and clans is limited," Prosperity admitted. "But I could see such a change being forced on the Mothers long before a majority of a clan spoke up and said that's what they wanted to do."

"How so?" Gordon asked.

"All you need is for the best of the young people to leave. Maybe one in ten or one in every eight, but the ones they would have wanted to retain and given the best jobs. If there is one thing I've figured out from working with your third Mother, it's that the Mothers aren't stupid. A few years of that and they'd see they have to adjust or the clan will go downhill over the long haul," Prosperity asserted.

Lee smiled. "That's already happening."

"It is?"

"Yeah, Gordon got up one morning and walked to town rather than make barrels and furniture the rest of his life. He went to space and made his fortune. They didn't kick him out when he went back filthy rich either. Has anybody else done that from Red Tree, Gordon?"

He looked uncomfortable. "There have long been a few who went to the traditional trade towns, such as Fish Town, even before Humans came. I know some never came home, or just to visit and leave again. I'd hate to see the clan structure disappear completely," he said.

"That from somebody who walked away from it," she noted. "I like the stability I saw in your clan," Lee agreed, "but I wouldn't mind it being a little less oppressive. The way so many were terrified of the Mothers is no way to live."

"Well, you made it clear when we were in discussions with our bank that you'd support using your money for some social changes. I agree with that actually, but I'm glad to hear you see some good in the clan too and don't just want to rip it out and replace it with Human ways."

"Oh, not at all," Lee assured him. "I didn't like what I saw on Earth either. I want the best parts of both cultures. Maybe the Hinth and these new folks can teach us a few things too."

Prosperity followed that exchange keenly, looking from one to the other. "Well, just warn me please, when you decide to do a make-over of Fargone," he begged.

* * *

The Derf Mozart was given a courtesy peek at the flight deck of the Badger courier, the Dart, but none of the acceleration couches would hold him. He thanked them for the tour and retreated to the common room they used for off shift and to eat. The ship was half again as big as a Human courier. On the Roadrunner he'd have been a cork in the main corridor. He brought a floor mat along as the Badgers used tables.

The human in charge of their group was Bob Morgan, a former USNA Space Marine and cook, assigned to security on the Sharp Claws, Mozart was second. The next two were of equal rank. Bartholomew Wu was a hired security man from Derfhome. He was unaccountably familiar with the armor despite claims of never having served in any military and doubled up working maintenance when his primary skill was not needed. Felicity Birkenshire, was male despite the name and a citizen of Derfhome, but of Fargone origins, who was back-up navigator and a sensor board tech, but also skilled with arms. He was unlikely to be busy with his regular duties until the Sharp Claws left this system. The Badgers made themselves known and said not to worry if they had a hard time telling them apart at first. They didn't wear rank emblems. They joked that they might get Mozart and Bob confused because they both had brown hair.

"What is your pleasure, once we dock?" Bob Morgan asked Captain Fussy. "I'd suggest we put two armored up guards on the dock just outside the lock at first, but do you want a bodyguard to accompany us on station?

Before he could answer, his XO Dauntless spoke up. "I am obligated to advise you."

"Indeed. I've never seen you shy to do so."

"I think the action Chance decided on, staying with his command, is worth emulating. I'm sure you would like to play the host and show these people around, but the situation is not normal here. We are nervous about the Biter's departure, unsure they may not return and the Bills are sounding stressed to me. I can't blame them either, they may be as worried about the Biters as we are. If it were mine to say I'd strongly suggest to Captain Chance he find another station to visit."

"But you see, the whole point of this little circuit was to show the Little Fleet we gave them a true chart and are hiding nothing from them. If I start steering them away from anything it defeats that."

"I think we've proved the chart is accurate to them. I don't see us obligated to open every corner and closet to them, but it's your call. I do object to your being one of the first out the lock on station."

"That I can agree to," Fussy allowed. "Do you have a suggestion who to send? I don't want them sent off on station alone. We have a fairly robust Trade translator now, but they are still unacquainted with the others who are not Badgers. And as you said they may have concerns after hearing of violence with the Biters. Even with them gone off station, these folks have no proof the confrontation was all the fault of the Biters, especially when the details of it in the plot are withheld."

"They shouldn't be sent off with a scrubber and filter changer for escort. They deserve a little more respect than that. I figured I'd go with them, first time, myself," Dauntless offered.

"Your parents named you well," Fussy said, a little jab.

"My parents named me wisely," Dauntless insisted. "I grew up challenged to fit the name."

"To answer Bob then, yes I'd like to see Mozart go out on station with you and my XO. It would be well for the station folk to see both of your races."

"I agree, but not the first walk-around. I'd like him on the lock until we see things are calm. Then later we'll do the dog and pony show."

Fussy looked at his pad and grinned. "These folksy expressions are endless, aren't they?"

* * *

"Thank you Station Control. We have positive indicators for docking lock. We are bringing pressure to slightly positive, but maintaining Badger standard with no exchange and connecting waste water service. We won't be needing station power or fresh water service for our short stay. Data dump and news will contain our docking payment information. We are not posting to the trading boards, since we are carrying no freight. This is a courtesy escort flight to familiarize the Humans and Derf with our star system mapping and its accuracy. We're on our return leg now."

"Thank you Dart. We have three ships at dock, noted on system scan. Nothing of interest to you since you have no trades to offer. Are your escorts going to want to dock later?"

"No, the Roadrunner and Sharp Claws are going to hold position and wait on us. We realize this is unusual, but as you know besides their lack of a docking collar, we have had some aggressive attention elsewhere from Biter vessels and they are being cautious. They said to reassure you they have no wish to be a problem and will maneuver or relocate if they interfere with operations. I doubt we shall be here longer than two Bill days. We would like permission to come aboard and play the tourist and do a bit of shopping if that is permissible."

"Do you have an appointment with the mining company?" Station control asked.

"No, I have spoken to them about your operations, but we did not come this way with any intent to buy an Eye. We've been letting them pick a route at random instead of any predetermined itinerary. I have no idea if they even carry sufficient exchange for that. These are two of their smallest ships and carry lesser officers of their fleet."

There was a surprising pause, with nothing forthcoming. Fussy curled his muzzle up in dimples they had come to see as a sign of frustration. He sat up straighter in the seat and the visitors thought he was going to say something to prompt Station Control, when they replied. "You have the courtesy of the Station."

"Thank you Station Control," Fussy repeated. We'll be out on dock and do a little sightseeing this shift. The new folks will have a Badger guide with them."

"I have no idea what all that hesitation was about," Fussy said unhappy. "That's not normal. They had plenty of time to object when we decided not to grapple the Roadrunner on a mast, if they didn't want the Dart docking. We aren't fueling or provisioning, so what is the point of docking if we don't leave the ship?"

"I'll ask what has been going on at a few businesses," Dauntless offered. "I'm curious if the Biters caused trouble while they were here, or leaving so abruptly. I wonder if perhaps they were negotiating to buy an Eye and our arrival disrupted that?"

"Now that's a thought. I can see they might not care to tell us that," Fussy decided.

* * *

"Have you noticed none of the ships or the station here ever, seem to use anything but very low powered radar?" Thor asked Gordon.

"No, it never occurred to me that was unusual," Gordon admitted. "It's just courteous in a crowded environment not to SHOUT! I mean, some stations even publish power limits in their approach procedures. They don't want inductive interference or having maintenance workers outside cooked in your beam. I don't expect to see high power modes except in combat operations. The Biters used a little higher power density, but nothing spectacular it's true. We were close though."

"I asked Jeremiah Ellis on the Retribution about it and asked him to check it out without asking the Badgers directly, he got back to me just a bit ago and what he had to say was interesting."

"Oh? He usually knows his stuff."

"Yes, well he decided to check a few of their ships out by eyeball as they passed by closely and as far as he could see with a pretty decent telescope, they don't carry all the antennas our sort of array does. Now, our elements have to be bigger the lower the frequency we wish to use, so we tend to higher frequencies to have more elements and higher total power. Also the higher the frequency the smaller the spot to which we can focus it. Sometimes we miss having very low frequency radar because it lets us look through atmosphere or water, or even soil to a certain depth. That's why we carry a couple side looking long antennas for such orbital work, even at lower power. But our regular radar is rather distinctive, round plates, smaller than my hand, that show a geometric pattern on their face from the different materials side by side."

"Yes, I know there have been a few attempts to add panels to the smaller ships," Gordon remembered, "Because they don't have enough hull surface to mount them. We are about maxed out on hull hardware on the Retribution with the fuel mining drones and stuff we've added. No way do I want to start stripping radar antennas off and drop our peak power, I'd rather be adding plates to the system if I could."

"Yeah and the flat panels sticking out looked like hell and got in the way docking and all sorts of other problems. They increase your radar cross section and add mass at the worst possible place, making the ship harder to roll. If you make the miserable things fold out that's just something extra to break down and even more mass with the mechanism."

"Well, what do they use, if they don't have our sort of emitters?" Gordon asked.

"Some sort of antennas or apertures enclosed in a upright pyramid or block that stands out from the hull about like one of our drone hangers."

"Well, that's odd. I guess they went a different path to different solutions."

"The thing is, I don't think they can emit much higher power levels than what we are seeing."

Gordon looked shocked. "Then they can't focus down and paint a target hot enough to see it in detail?"

"They can steer the beam, but to focus it down to a wavelength? No. They can still use stealth features against the sort of radar they have and their electronic counter measures would be very limited. I can't imagine they could use it like a weapon, the way we captured the Sharp Claws with the Retribution."

 "I'm not sure I want to offer it to them in that case," Gordon decided. "I think I'd rather give up my missiles than my radar! I can't imagine fighting near blind."

"Their computers are quite a bit behind ours too. I don't have a real physicist or a heavy hitter for electronics design with us, but looking at the tech information they have released to us, I am suspecting they have no idea how to make 2D quasi-metallic films, or engineered 3D materials that depend on the properties of Dirac Fermions," Thor concluded.

"So, radar, computers..." Gordon hesitated and thought.

"Optics, displays, imaging, memory, very short period pulse generation and storage, magnetic isolation, non-statistical fusion, surface current routing and non-blackbody emission. I doubt they can even make a decent Veselago lens. Trouble is we can't really withhold this tech. It's in so much we are going to display and sell them they'll figure it out even if we don't explain it explicitly."

Lee who was listening silently had an opinion on that. "In that case get the best price you can for it, instead of seeing how long it takes them to work it out, because then it will have no value to us at all."

"I'll tell Prosperity," Gordon promised.

* * *

Mozart and Bart had been standing on the dock about a half hour. Both were in not just armor, but vacuum capable suits. Bart had on the full USNA Space Marine rig that so many former users no longer needed after visiting the Red Tree keep. They had recovered enough parts and the field service equipment from three captured shuttles to keep them running for quite awhile too. The residual radiation from the neutron bomb that had killed them all was hardly detectable now. It was never high and decayed quickly.

The suit had armor, but the additional jump frame he wore was another layer protecting it that added to the wearer's safety too. It especially had an additional ballistic shield over the face that was too heavy without the powered frame. The thing that bothered Mozart was that he expected it to make noise working, but it moved so silently it was eerie unless he ran. Then it was like a horse galloping.

Mozart on the other hand had no power, but he was roughly equal in size and strength to an adult male grizzly bear. He wore a hundred and fifteen kilograms of armor in addition to his arms and didn't even think about the weight when he moved. He carried a 20mm carbine compared to Bart's 8mm and a huge double bit steel ax with a hook on the bottom of the cutting edge that was sharp on the inside too. The composite handle was seven tenths of a meter long and had a soft grip molded on the end for the claws of his middle limbs to engage. The hook and that much leverage would allow him to remove a suit of armor like Bart wore much like an old fashioned can opener peeling open a tin of sardines.

"Seems sort of dead out here, doesn't it?" Mozart asked. They had seen exactly one electric cart whine by without any trailer or freight piled on the back. A door beside the larger air curtain leading in station had opened briefly and spilled bright yellowish light on the dusky dock. The Bill who appeared looked down the dock both ways and went back inside the bright room closing the door.

"If it was full of all kinds of traffic and people going every which way I'm be a nervous wreck trying to watch everything," Bart admitted.

"But I wouldn't feel like we have some horrible plague," Mozart rumbled.

The lock behind them cycled noisily, lighting the dock just like the Bill's door had. They didn't look, no threat was possible from that side and the distraction might be noted by unseen eyes.

"Thanks for keeping the crowds back," Bob said.

"They all left when Mozart farted," Bart told them.

"Thank the gods that was outside our vessel," Dauntless said. "Have you seen anybody since? Did somebody rescue the unconscious or collect the fallen?"

"We had one fellow poke his head out of yonder man door beside the curtain and look around. He ducked back in without a word or even looking at us directly," Bart said.

"I'm pretty sure that's a Bill door," Mozart said, dead pan. Bart didn't dignify it with a reply.

"Yes, they have a little office there, what would the expression be? For directing movement and loading?" Dauntless asked.

"Ah, a dispatch office," Bob supplied.

"I knew you'd have a special expression for it. Let's go seek entry there. It's customary to use that rather than make them open the big freight curtain for no reason. See you in a bit," he told the guards with a genial nod.

"Bob didn't look like he armored up very heavily," Bart worried.

"And that vest Dauntless had on didn't fit very well. And nothing on the legs, though it hung down over his hips at least," Mozart allowed.

"I think they cut down one of your light weight Derf vests to make it. That's why it fits so strangely. My understanding is they don't make anything decent of their own. Nothing we'd bother putting on."

"Oh... I guess that's something else we'll be selling them."

* * *

"I let the Badgers have another chunk of the English web," Prosperity said.

"And your face says that wasn't any source of joy to you," Lee said, very quickly.

Prosperity shook his head. "The Badgers have rather elementary graphic editing software. Their hardware isn't really up to the kind of stuff we have. I mean, they have software. They're not as hopeless as the Bunnies, but their drafting and design software is just crap, but I digress...When they saw the sort of thing kids post on the web for a joke, ridiculous images where things are cut and pasted in impossible situations or images blended. Well, let's say they were not amused. That's just still images. The video stuff seems like magic to them... Black magic."

"I'm surprised. I thought Badgers had a pretty good sense of humor."

"It makes them wonder if they can trust any image in our archives is true."

"Even growing up on a spaceship, away from what you'd call society. I knew very early that it's part of being grown up to be able to tell the ridiculous from the possible. It applies to edited images as much as fairy tales and humor. Adults don't just believe something because it looks real," Lee insisted.

"Do you really want to explain it to the Badgers that bluntly?" Prosperity asked. "They are already offended. If you frame it as they need to grow up I think it will just insult them twice."

"Yes, I'm going to tell them right away, through Talker. If they hate me for it that is their privilege, but they didn't grow up learning this. They have no filter. The next generation of Badgers, or the other races, will acquire the needed skepticism naturally. They'll look at a picture of something like a cow with an impossible pattern in its hide, or a supposed man-pig chimera and say, 'Yeah, pull the other one," without even hesitating. But somebody has to tell them the truth about it now."

"Better you than me," Prosperity invited. "I have to deal with so much else right now."

"I have an advantage, I'm young and I'm still small physically. I've already had several instances where they made it clear they think I'm a child. Do me a favor and when you deal with Talker again apologize for my hitting him over the head with it. Say kids just blurt out what they think with no effort to be subtle or polite."

Prosperity looked shocked. "You're setting yourself up to take the blame!"

"Sure, but I've seen it done in line of command problems and it works. Besides, people have to forgive children all sorts of things they won't let go with other adults, or they'd kill the little monsters and end the race. I can't see how Badgers can be any different. In fact any race that actually raise their kids must be that way. Maybe if we find somebody that lays eggs and walks away from them it won't hold true. But I'm not holding my breath on that one."

"I've heard the phrase, 'Kids say the damndest things," but you aren't a kid anymore. I think you grew up fast and you are not only functionally adult but calculating," he accused Lee.

"It's darndest, a much milder euphemism and I thank you, but I'd like to milk it as long as I can. So keep it to yourself. OK?"

Prosperity slowly got the strangest grin and nodded. "OK, I can keep a secret," he promised.

* * *

The door was unlocked and the Bill in the dispatcher's office was on com when they walked in. Dauntless just slowed a little and made a gesture at the opposite door leading out on the station corridors. The Bill made an obvious shooing gesture, palm down and fingers sweeping away from him toward the door, so they kept going, no formal entry or showing of documents required. There wasn't any other ship at this dock. The other two docking collars locked and vacant, but Bob had never seen such a casual attitude to entering a station. They didn't record their names or take a palm print or a DNA sample. But Dauntless didn't seem surprised.

The lighting in the corridor outside was lower again. It seemed a street in width and went both ways following the perimeter of the station. A cart went by, automated Bob assumed, because it had no clear windshield just a flat metal front. There was a walkway along the inside edge, protected by heavy bollards a vehicle couldn't fit through even if its guidance failed. Dauntless looked both ways and crossed without hurrying.

Another cart went by, this one reinforcing his opinion of the first. It had an open section with four odd benches in front, a Bill driving one handed and a stack of bags under a net on the flat rear deck.

"Have you been here before?" Bob wondered.

"No, but I looked at the station map and directory in the ship. Didn't anybody mention you could look one up?"

"Sorry, I guess it was one of those 'everybody knows' sort of things," Bob said.

"Yes!" Dauntless agreed. "We make that error too. That doesn't make it right, but it's scary how much our races think alike. We even make the same sort of mistakes. We turn right at this next intersection and it leads to center of the station where there are offices and businesses."

Right was the only way you could turn. To the left was a wall and Bob assumed vacuum fairly close somewhere beyond. The corridor was slightly narrower, but still wide enough for two carts to pass. They were going slower though he noticed.

"There is a place ahead where the businesses start that serves food for Badgers and Sasquatch. We'll be ready to stop walking awhile by then. How about if I get something to eat and you can have something out of your, uh... luggage there."

"It's called a fanny pack."

A group of Bill pedestrians came down the sidewalk toward them. Dauntless stepped behind Bob and the Bills bunched up to two wide to get past. They were talking in their own language, which didn't sound like Trade very much. When they got near there was a sudden silence as they saw Bob, then even louder excited speech, but they sped up and seemed anxious to get past.

"Do you speak Bill?" Bob asked Dauntless.

"Not very well," I got – "That's one of them!" – and then they started babbling too fast for me."

"They didn't stop and ask for my autograph," Bob said.

"Will I ever know English?" Dauntless asked, reading his hand comp and glancing up on occasion as he walked along.

"Not all of it I can guarantee you. An autograph isn't such a complicated idea. How much can they have to say about them?"

"We have an auto-search program now on the chunk of English web you gave us. I'm past autograph and reading about 'celebrity' now. They have to ask your ship and talk back and forth when it's something we don't have yet. And they still refuse some," he said accusingly.

"I hope it's cross referenced with jackass," Bob grumbled.

"And yet, they have 'fans'," Dauntless noted, ignoring the clearly unhappy addendum.

"Look up the root of fan," Bob suggested.

"Fascinating," Dauntless finally said and closed his pad.

"That's a safe word," Bob allowed.

Dauntless got the pad back out and searched. "Dear sweet little screaming gods on fire..." he muttered, holding the pad straight armed away from him.

"That's a different usage," Bob figured out. "I meant it's a safe neutral sort of expression. Sometimes people reply with things that are neither approving or disapproving. It lets you take it how you will."

He thought about it a little bit, Dauntless silent too.

"Southern ladies will say, "Well Bless Their Heart"," he elaborated, "which sounds very affirmative, but their custom is against directly saying anything bad. That's the sort of expression you could have real difficulty with. You just have to know the culture. And the sweeter they say, "Well Bless Their Heart", the more you can be sure they are damning that person to the deepest depths of Hell."

"I like how you switch voices when you tell a story."

"I wasn't sure you got that fine of a nuance."

"Well, you change your face too. It's very helpful."

"That was interesting, seeing Bills walk on all eight limbs. I've seen some video of it, but it isn't the same as being there. I assume they have different gaits, like a horse?"

Dauntless sighed and pulled his pad out again. "They have to ask for more material on that too," he told Bob. "It may be a few minutes back and forth."

"It's all timing," Bob explained. "You don't just walk faster and faster. You change how you move and how your feet hit the ground."

"You or a horse?" Dauntless asked confused.

"Both. A horse walks, trots, canters and gallops. I walk and jog and run. Some people would add sprinting too. The progression of gaits as you speed up is similar, even if a horse has more legs.

"I've never seen one of you do anything but walk. Show me, would you please?"

"I'll jog ahead a little and run back," Bob volunteered. "Not far."

He jogged about forty meters at an easy pace, turned back to Dauntless and sprinted.

"I felt...intimidated frankly, with you coming at me like that. You run with your head up. I think you get both feet off the ground at the same time too. It's different and unnerving. How long can you keep running like that?" he asked.

"Me? Not far at all. I'm out of shape. I used to be able to run hours, not much off that pace. I could do ten kilometers, with a pack about four times as big as this one and a weapon. I was younger and training constantly to maintain the ability."

Dauntless looked like he was going to say something and instead checked his pad.

"I had to make sure I understood a meter and a kilometer. You should know, I don't think any of our races here can run like that."

"These Bills look like they could move pretty fast with all those legs."

"Yes, but not so far."

"On Earth, before spaceflight, before written history or any serious technology at all, humans were cursorial hunters. They would hunt with weapons as simple as a sharp stick. Out on a vast plain they'd pick out an animal and run toward it. The animal would run off faster than a man can run. Trouble was it could only run a hundred or two hundred meters. The man would just keep running. When he got too close again the animal would flee, but it didn't really have time to recover. Each time it ran it would recover a little less. The man could run all day if he needed to. It might be the third time or the fiftieth, but eventually the animal couldn't run. It might collapse trying and the fellow with the pointy stick would catch up and he had his supper," Bob said, making a spear stabbing motion at the deck.

Dauntless was quiet for several minutes.

"What are you thinking?" Bob finally asked. "You have that pensive look you get when thinking."

"I'm thinking about your story and my name," he replied. "If I look it up I bet you have a lot of words for Dauntless."

"Oh sure, synonyms we call them. A similar word I think I'd like to use is relentless. It has a grim, merciless sound to it," Bob said with a smile.

Dauntless shuddered. "I don't think the Biters know what they are dealing with and I'm not going to be the one to tell them. They are hunters, obligate carnivores, but their normal style of hunting was to lie in wait and sprint out to catch their prey. Their mentality is very different. If they don't catch it they just gave up and wait for another chance. It fits how they war, doing raids and getting aggressive sporadically. I wonder if they can possibly picture how a species who hunted as you say, by relentlessly running down their prey, will conduct war?"

Bob didn't want to comment on that. Dauntless seemed to have had a sudden epiphany of where this could all lead. It horrified him enough Bob didn't think he needed to make it worse. Better to keep his mouth shut and give Dauntless time to adjust to what he'd envisioned.

Chapter 18

The Sharp Claws was ahead of the station in about the same orbit, but not far enough to put them over the gas giant's horizon from the Roadrunner, which was in a similar position but trailing. They canted her from the line of travel enough to be able to steer their radar from covering their orbital plane to sending an occasional pulse to the polar regions of the giant. Since they had to wait for the echo each look over the poles it cut a ten second window out of their primary watch. They switched back and forth between the poles, taking a look every two minutes.

The missile crews kept one team on a tube at all times, the off crew on four minute call. The greaser and peashooter teams were alternately on call. It was a hard schedule to keep up with a small crew. The bridge radar watch was no easier. The concentration needed demanding and constant attention.

"And if something does come around Big Bertha here, What are we going to do about it?"

"Big Bertha?" Frost asked, askance of Lord Byron his XO.

"Yes, well, the Trade language doesn't have a name for her, just a catalog designation. It's one of the largest gas giants anyone has seen. Certainly the biggest gas giant I've ever seen myself, so it seemed to beg the dignity of a real name. Someone referred to it as Big Berth and the words do seem to fall off the tongue well together. If it displeases you we can use something else."

"Indeed no, but you should enter it in the log and credit the name if someone remembers who originally coined it."

"I'll do that," Lord Byron said, pleased. "And inquire who named it. A Human I'm guessing. But what do we do if a Biter ship comes around the planet headed for the station and the Dart? We can't just blow them away for being Biters, as much as the idea is starting have immediate appeal."

"I imagine if we just speak with them we'll soon have reason to do whatever we want," Fussy assured him. "In fact from what I'm seeing of their personalities, the more pleasant we are, the faster it will infuriate them and cause them to say something stupid."

"Ah...I am reminded why you are in command," Lord Byron allowed smiling. "You are devious and I say that as your student, with the greatest admiration."

* * *

"The Badgers have a target if you'd like to do a demo for them," Prosperity offered.

"Ice like we discussed?" Gordon asked.

"Yes, they'd like you to go out by the smaller gas giant and orbit it retrograde. Then they will designated a ice chunk orbiting by activating a transmitter on it. They want to see you acquire it as a target and engage it as it passes."

"You want to go or should we send the Retribution?" Thor asked Gordon.

"We've been sitting at dock too long. Let's go do it ourselves. Prosperity, why don't you ask Talker and Trader if they'd like to ride out with us? Maybe they'd like to see our operations first hand."

"I'd imagine they'll jump at it. But do you really want to reveal that much to them?" Thor asked.

"Consider it a sales presentation. Perhaps we'll demo some other systems for them."

"You scare me when you smile like that," Prosperity admitted.

* * *

"Is that a bar?" Bob asked, unable to read the sign. "It looks like a bar."

"It is, but it caters to Bills, mostly local labor. I suggest we go to the third one down. The station map tagged it as serving all races and having food items for travelers too. The name of the place translates pretty close to 'All ashore' so I'd say they want the spacer trade."

"Your Trade language sounds like these terms come from wet navy. Did you have ships that went on your oceans?"

"Every one of our races have had ocean going vessels and still do."

"Do any of you have submarines?"

Dauntless checked his pad and frowned. "We did, but the only sort we have now are for research and underwater mining. We had military submarines only in a very narrow time frame. By the time we could build them we were very close to having a world government."

"We had them that could stay down for months, well before we put men in space," Bob said.

"Then life support tech must have been easy for you," Dauntless immediately surmised.

"Indeed it was and we set up sealed habitats and experimented with them long before we set foot on other planets in our star system. So we had some confidence they wouldn't fail."

"That just sounds sensible to me. I wouldn't trust my life to an untested environment."

"I'm feel like that's what I'm doing now," Bob intimated.

"Hmm...I can see your point."

The bar was dark with lots of polished stone and deep green panels. There was lots of brass and mirrors and indirect lighting. It should have had the stately dignity of an English gentleman's club and somehow managed to miss it so far that it had more the mood of a fast food joint. The proportions of everything seemed off somehow and nothing looked particularly comfortable or inviting.

The host came quickly with a pink vest and a white apron that would have looked normal on any human shop keeper. He led them to a table, though he failed miserably at a nonchalant air. He stared at Bob wide eyed and tense, then spoke briefly with Dauntless as if he were alone.

Perhaps part of the reason for his anxiety was the single Biter sitting alone drinking. They were seated as far as possible from him and he stared at them as much as the host had, but far less friendly. In fact Bob could have easily characterized it as a glare even as unfamiliar he was with Biter expressions. He upended his mug, draining it in a hurry and deliberately slammed it back down on the table with a crack like a pistol shot. Then he marched out the door, his route not coming close to them, which was just fine with Bob.

"Nobody said anything about Biters on station," Dauntless said.

"Did you ask?"

"Uh, no. I assumed with their ship gone there would be none. I've never seen a Biter on station before without one of their ships docked. And I never really thought how odd that was until now."

"Maybe the suckers are too cheap to pay for a room," Bob speculated.

"Do you want to go back to the Dart?" Dauntless asked.

"Because we saw one Biter? That seems an over-reaction."

"These lower life-forms, we have an expression..."

"Yes! There's never just one," Bob said.

"Exactly. Though we usually say it for a particular blood sucking vermin that infests sleeping pads."

"We have bed bugs, but we say that about cockroaches, a filthy insect that gets in where you prepare food and comes out at night. If you have them and you turn a light on in the night, they will all scurry for the cracks and crevices to hide."

Dauntless checked his pad, curious. "Ugh, much the same but I see yours are bigger."

"In the tropics the damn things get huge," Bob told him.

"I shall avoid your tropics."

"I think we should leave," Bob decided. "Nobody seems to be interested in taking our order. I'm starting to think we aren't as welcome here as I'd like. Perhaps they know something we don't."

"Alright, it does seem slow to the point of rudeness."

"Should I leave anything on the table? Do we owe them anything for just being seated?"

"Not at all," Dauntless said, getting up. "Let's go straight back to the Dart. I'm starting to get a bad feeling about this."

They didn't say anything to the host when they passed him and he didn't inquire why they were leaving. They exited the door and turned back towards the ship, there were four Biters ahead coming down the walk. There wasn't anyone else out on the street.

"The bar suddenly seems safer than out here," Bob decided.

"Oh yes, "Dauntless agreed. It was only a few steps back to the door. There were two more Biters coming from the other way. The door was locked.

Bob pulled his pistol. "I'm going to kill that damn host. Do you know where to shoot this miserable thing to bust the lock?"

"I fear it would take a great deal more than that," Dauntless told him. "Best save your shots for the Biters."

"Throw out your weapons and we may let you live a bit longer," One of the Biters called to them using their pad to translate. It put out a surprising volume.

"Come and take them," Bob called back.

"Do you think this is a good time to deliberately annoy them?" Dauntless asked.

"I'm not surrendering to them. They can have my dead body if I don't kill them all first."

"That doesn't seem likely."

"Then you go surrender to them, but at least leave me your gun. I predict they will have you for supper tonight."

"They can't eat animals from the Badger world," Dauntless said, taking him literally. "We make them deathly sick, even the fish."

Dauntless drew his side arm. "The safety is off," he said pointing to a little lever, "you have thirty shots," he said, offering it grips first to Bob. He turned and took a deep breath and raised his hands before stepping out.

Bob was too angry to thank him, indeed the thought came briefly to him to shoot the coward.

There was a wild undisciplined fusillade. Dauntless staggered from three impacts and desperately threw himself back in the entry alcove with Bob, rolling flat on his back. He had a ragged tear through one ear, a nasty wound on one foot and three soft slugs flattened on the front of his vest. He sat up and looked down at them.

"Oh wow, it does stop them, but it still hurts."

"Watch the other direction, so the other two can't sneak up on us," Bob ordered, shoving the pistol back in his hands. Dauntless scooted over to the side from which the four were shooting and sat back against the wall. He eased close to the edge and took up a watch the other way. Bob leaned over him and slid just the edge of his pad past the corner to let the camera look down the street. The four Biters were standing in a loose group about twenty meters away, making no effort to use cover or even squat down to present a smaller target. Three of them however had their weapons pointed at the entryway, ready to fire if they saw a target. One was pointing his at the deck like it was too much effort to hold up.

"There is going to be a loud noise," Bob warned. "Don't shoot from flinching. You might consider taking your finger off the trigger even," he suggested. He reached in his fanny pack and withdrew a green sphere about the size of a baseball. Holstering his pistol he checked with his pad again. All four Biters were standing pointing their guns now and inching forward cautiously with tiny steps.

Dauntless looked at him puzzled, wondering what he was doing.

Bob pulled the pin on the grenade, the spoon spinning off with a tinny noise as it hit the deck. "One hippopotamus, two hippopotamus," he repeated calmly and heaved it straight-armed around the corner blind. They could hear it skittering across the pavement. When Bob covered his ears with both hands Dauntless looked alarmed, but he didn't have time to copy the gesture.

It was a street, but it was also an enclosed space with ceiling. The flash and concussion reflected off the overhead and opposite wall was stunning. It slapped them both, but Dauntless was much less prepared for it.

Bob stepped out of their shelter turned opposite the explosion. Weapon up and pointed down the street. Several businesses down one of the Biters leaned out of a doorway to see what happened. Bob carefully put a single shot through his head. He went down the direction he was leaning and sprawled on the pavement out of cover. His partner leaned out and grabbed him by a leg to drag him back to safety. Bob put three in his torso with slow aimed shots. The fellow crumpled on top of his friend in a heap. He was facing away so that his head was not visible. Bob hesitated a second, then carefully put three more shots in the body even though there was no movement.

Dauntless was standing again when he turned, leaning on the corner to favor his wounded foot, mouth hanging open in shock. He looked back and forth at the two groups of Biters.

Bob walked past him to the four Biters he'd fragged. They were leaking a lot, dark burgundy blood from all the small holes in them. The facade facing the street was similarly pockmarked with tiny nicks and craters. A larger mark in the pavement had streaks radiating from it. One of the Biters had a leg doing a slow repetitious twitch. It was probably just some lingering reflex, not suffering. If he wasn't dead he would be soon with that many holes in him. Bob shot him through the head. He pulled a small radio out of his left pants pocket and spoke into it several times, clearly have a conversation back and forth with someone. Then he walked back to Dauntless.

"Bart and Mozart sealed the lock up and will be here soon. They'll carry you to the ship."

"I expect station security to be here soon. I doubt they'll allow me to go back to the Dart."

"They won't be given a choice. You are under my protection and I'm removing you. If I have to call the Sharp Claws in and disassemble the station panel by panel you are leaving with us."

There was a loud drumming sound and Bart appeared running down the center of the street. The powered armor allowed him to move as fast as the carts they'd seen, but it was noisy. Mozart was right behind and keeping up easily, but not nearly as loud.

"Bart hesitated at the pile of Biter bodies just long enough to see they weren't a threat before approaching Bob. "Are you wounded Sir?" he asked first, concern written on his face.

"No, but Dauntless has a foot wound, so I need you to carry him to the ship. Careful with him. He took a few round on the vest so I imagine he's bruised under it and a round nipped his ear."

Just then a cart pulled up with six Bills, all wearing a form of reflective vest and carrying some sort of holstered weapons. They all piled out and assumed a semicircle around the foreigners. One started talking Trade with Dauntless and one with fancier insignia walked up to the biters and inspected them briefly before coming back. The one talking with Dauntless appeared to make a report to him.

"The Badger claims you were attacked," The fellow who appeared to be the leader said, using Dauntless' pad with the translator.

"No claim. Simple fact," Bob told him.

"That shall be determined. Why didn't you retreat to avoid a confrontation?" he asked.

"We tried actually. The owner of the bar locked us out so we couldn't go back in. We were trapped. Is it your law that one has to retreat when faced with an attack? Surely one has a right to self defense."

"You appear much more efficient than mere self defense. One wishes we had at least one of the other group alive to question."

"See this?" Bob asked, touching the small crystal bubble on his chest.

"Yes?"

"It's what we call a public eye, it records high resolution video continuously. I have a record of our actions since we left our ship at dock. Do you wish to view it?"

"Perhaps later. We'll take you into custody and put the matter before a judge to investigate and make a determination of fault."

"No. You Bills already have shown favoritism to the Biters. Nobody warned us there would be Biters on station after their ship left and the bar owner refused us shelter. You knew we already had trouble with them on several other occasions and all stayed silent. I simply don't trust your justice or your neutrality to surrender myself."

"We are six, if I have to use force to detain you I will," the cop said.

"See the two fellows wearing armor?" Bob asked.

"Is that what it is? I wondered. Yes I'm aware of them."

"I called them after we were attacked, they were not involved. I killed the Bills myself, after they wounded my companion, without help from the Badger. Not to make too much of a point about it...but there were six of them against just me. If you try to use force on me you six won't do any better."

Bob didn't know Bill's expressions very well yet, but he suspected this one looked very unhappy. He got wrinkles between his eyes above the back of his bill and took a wider stance on his legs.

"Threatening an officer is a crime itself," he informed Bob.

"Being stupid has a much quicker and permanent penalty," Bob explained. "Bart, Mozart, keep an eye out for Bill reinforcements. I'm not accepting a ride to jail for any of us."

"I'd like to speak with the bar keep," the officer told one of his subordinates after a thoughtful pause, the pad still translating for Bob.

The fellow went to the door and pressed a call pad beside the door. When there was no response he took a truncheon from his belt kit and rapped on the door loudly. "Police officers!" he said loud enough for the pad to pick it up a good four meters removed.

"Sergeant, call the business on com and direct them to come out and speak with us!" the leader instructed him. He seemed to be getting irritated.

"Mozart, open the door for the officer," Bob said.

Mozart grinned, happy to oblige. He walked over and tapped the door, cocking his head and examining it. The Bill at the intercom took a couple steps back, nervously. Mozart leaned into it with a will and kicked the door right in the middle. It was stout and made of laminated metal, but Mozart weighed somewhere near seven hundred kilos and had shock pads and titanium soles in his space armor boots. It folded in slightly, acquiring enough of a cup on each side of his indented footprint to gap. The gap exposed a sturdy bolt holding it closed. Mozart pulled the ax from his waist, slipped the hook it featured in the crack over the bolt and lifted. With a shriek of tortured metal the entire locking mechanism tore out of the door and a ragged chunk of metal wall the size of a dinner plate come off attached to it.

Mozart inserted the head of the ax in the expanded gap and levered it again. The door opened a few centimeters, but so bent it was jammed on the hinges and dragging on the floor. He grasped the edge with his middle arms and walked it open all the way back flush against the wall, the bottom corner dragging a big gouge in the floor. He'd forced it past the stops on the hinges and when he let go of it he had to side step, because it fell flat on the deck with a crash. "Oops," Mozart said, then smiled and made a sweeping gesture with his true hand to the police officer, inviting him to enter the crooked opening.

They found the fellow with the pink vest and apron cowering behind the bar on the deck. The cop started off interrogating him in Trade, but lapsed into Bill quickly.

"He says he was sure there would be trouble when the Biter left and he locked us out because he was afraid," Dauntless said, disgusted.

"Cowardly bastard, maybe he'll know better who to be afraid of next time," Bob snarled. The pad translated it for all of them and the barkeep looked big eyed at his accusation and backed up.

Once he had the story out of him the cop led them back outside. The bar owner was braver as soon as he was looking at their backs and shouted some objections about his ruined door. They ignored him.

One of the under-cops came back from the dead carrying a Biter pistol. He reported to his leader that all four of the Biters had discharged their weapons. The pad translated the leader's rank as captain.

"Incredibly stupid," Bart muttered. He was standing in front of Dauntless, where he'd stayed guarding him, not going in the bar. He had his carbine in hand but politely pointed at the deck.

"Why so?" the Bill with the Biter weapon asked, squinting while he looked at Bart.

"Shoot me with that stupid piece of junk." Bart invited.

"Certainly not!" he said, horrified.

"Look at the Badger," Bart said, stepping to the side a bit and pointing. Dauntless was sitting again, his back to the wall, wounded foot straight out in front of him. Nobody seemed in any hurry to get him a medic. The three shots he stopped with his vest were dull gray badges on his chest. Bart leaned over and picked at one with a single finger. The edge bent back so he could get a grip and he ripped it off the vest with a jerk. It was pressed into the weave of the fabric so hard it might have been glued on. He tossed the coin to the Bill who caught it easily. He looked at it closely before passing it to his superior.

"You're saying this was a Biter bullet?" the cop asked, plainly dubious.

"Yeah, total piece of crap weapon. We have antiques that shame it."

"Take the crazy's invitation and shoot him," the irked Captain ordered.

The Bill didn't seem to mind the idea when it was coming from his superior. The Biter pistol apparently wasn't too different for a Bill to grip. He drew a careful bead Bart's chest and shot. The pistol recoiled pretty substantially, but Bart didn't get pushed off balance. The suit flexed a little right around the point of impact . He didn't stop though, recovering from the recoil and putting another round on Bart's helmet visor. The bullet made a silvery smear across the clear face plate, hit the wall behind him throwing spalled chips every which way and flew off down the street with a 'Burrrrr' sound as the flattened slug spun off through the air. Everybody ducked a little, even though it was far too late to duck anything that was going to hit them.

"That seems sufficient testing," the Captain decided, "before one of us catches a bouncer."

"We call it a ricochet," Bob corrected the translator and got a flat voiced 'noted' from it.

The Captain walked away from Bob and his translator, past the corner where Dauntless sprawled and stood in the street nearly down to the pile of Biters. He was talking to someone, standing with his back to them and indeed got so animated he was making gestures even though it wasn't a video phone. When he finished and walked back he approached Bob.

"My superiors in Station Security instructed me to revoke your welcome on station. Your presence is no longer desired and they request you leave as quickly as possible."

"We don't stay where we aren't welcome," Bob assured him. "We won't forget either. We'll be back to the Dart in no more than ten minutes and I'll tell them to undock as quickly as can safely be done. Does that all translate clearly?"

"Yes, six hundred of your seconds. Do we need to provide transport for the injured one?"

"We can carry him easily enough. Don't bother to escort us. We can find our way."

"Bart, sling your weapon and carry Dauntless. We're going back to the ship." He turned his back on the police and didn't waste any further pleasantries on them. He leaned over by the Biters and scooped up one of their weapons off as a trophy in passing. He half expected the Bills to object, but none of them called out to him.

"You set the pace, Bob. Mozart and I are both faster than you. Unless you want to ride Mozart?"

"They don't need to be rid of us that fast," he told Bart and set off at a good jogging pace. Bart carried Dauntless easily in his arms with the help of the powered armor.

"I'm sorry, I'm probably hurting you," Bart apologized, "it's hard to go fast and smooth in this rig."

"Don't worry about it," Dauntless said. "Just get me out of this Bill shit hole."

"Bob!" He called to the Human's back, "I could hear the cop when he got upset and raised his voice talking to his commander. He was asking for reinforcements with heavy weapons. They must have overruled him because they didn't want the place shot up, because at one point he told them there was already damage to the public corridor from your bomb."

"It was just a grenade not a bomb. A bomb would have made a gaping big hole in their station, not a pock-mark in the deck paving."

"Noted" said the translation program.

* * *xxx

The minor gas giant was beautiful. It was banded in pale violet, crème and a daffodil yellow. The cap they flew over had an angry purple bull's-eye that formed a hex. The round bands below it displayed evenly spaces cusps along their boundaries that suggested the same forces that formed the polar hex worked to divide them into cells too. There were a lot of moons and several rings, although they weren't the prominent feature.

The planet was laid on its side almost aligned with its orbit, so it took a long burn and an unusual maneuver to take up a retrograde orbit opposite its natural satellites. If the Badger ships that put a radio beacon on one of the ice moonlets had hung around they were lost among the other bodies and not radiating anything to make them stand out.

"Here we are," Gordon noted, waving at the forward view screens. "Do you want to call anybody or do anything to get this show on the road?" he asked Trader and Talker.

"We have no control. Fire freely on anything emitting an artificial signal. We've taken pains to post notices there would be a live fire exercise."

"Sounds fine to me," Gordon agreed. "Brownie, Thor, if it squawks kill it. You are weapons free." He leaned back in his acceleration couch and smiled at Lee. She raised a single skeptical eyebrow at his theatrical ease.

"I am weapons free," Thor acknowledged formally.

They coasted along ballistic for another twenty minutes, Gordon closed his eyes, hooked his middle arms in the safety harness and crossed his true arms. By all appearances he might have been sleeping. They didn't have to wait long.

"Signal coming over the horizon," Brownie announced. "Ninety millimeter wavelength. Range is extreme, two point three million kilometers." Gordon's eyes popped open. The main screen showed the potential target with a pale green circle around it.

"Paint it for surface detail," Thor instructed. "Closing rate and acceleration?"

"Mark...Pinged him, details in fourteen seconds. Closing rate approximately forty three kilometers a second. Target is on a lower orbit. The screen split and the left side showed all the vectors in a simplified schematic that didn't try to mimic scale or visual reality. "Target lead will increase significantly as we close. Radar says target is an ice ball of medium density. Not dressed, but no tumble, your typical irregular potato shape. No hard return from artificial structures."

"Come to one tenth g for stability. Set ship attitude to auto control for peashooter, release full auxiliary reactor control to auto and load small round. Auto-fire three rounds for intercept at one point six million miles," Thor instructed, "load next round, but wait for confirmation of miss or impact."

There was a few seconds delay and the ship lurched with the shot.

"Target accelerating, point six three g. First shots will miss," Brownie announced.

"Time delay from our hard ping to acceleration?" Thor asked.

"A bit over twelve seconds," Brownie supplied.

"Fire again for the current acceleration to remain constant," he ordered. The shot went off before he could say anything else. "Fire another round assuming the target acceleration to cease at same time interval it took to activate."

There was about a three second delay and it shot again.

"Fire lastly four assuming acceleration will double at same time interval as the first one."

Again after a slight delay it fired again.

"Reload, but hold fire," Thor said. They all watched the main screen silently.

"Strike! We hit him with shot three. Pinging him again," Brownie paused. "Target is reduced by about a third in cross-section. He has acquired a spin. No further acceleration," Brownie announced.

"We nicked him. Finish it off assuming he will maintain the present velocity. Send a ping timed to paint it after the hit." The ship lurched again.

After another pause Brownie reported, "Hard hit, no substantial portion of target remaining. I have one small return that must be the remains of the drive they used."

"Nice try, maneuvering to avoid fire," Gordon complimented them. "As you see there is an art to it. You can shoot at where you think they may jink," he said, demonstrating an abrupt change of direction with his hand. "It can be an interesting contest of minds."

"It may not be so easy against a real manned ship," Trader said dubiously.

"Oh, I don't know," Thor told him. "I saw Gordon lay three war shots on an empty sky and jump out. We weren't even around to watch and he bagged the USNA deep space battle platform Florida when they jumped into the Fargone system smack into the missiles Gordon left behind for them. He didn't even have a radar return off the Florida to help him guess, because she was still light years away. He just guessed where she'd show up jumping in."

"What is a deep space battle platform?" Talker asked.

"About a half trillion USNA Dollars of starship, before loading it out, at least eight, maybe ten times the mass of this one, a crew of about two hundred and enough weaponry to engage a substantial fleet or to reduce a hostile planetary surface," Thor explained.

Talker and Trader looked at each other. There was an exchange, but too subtle for the Derf or Humans to read. "A crew of two hundred of which of your races? A mix like you folks? And what do you mean by reduced?" Trader asked.

"Target!" Brownie interrupted, "emitting on a different frequency. Much higher orbit, no, correction, making a high speed pass above orbital velocity, headed insystem, higher than us. Pinging them now for surface details. Twenty seconds for a read on them." Everybody waited silently.

"Hull matches the first Biter contact we had here," Brownie informed him.

"Voice contact. The Biters inform us they protest electronic aggression. They seem to have a pretty recent version of the Trade translation software. They protest our 'ping' caused them interference. They called it a pulse. Our computer corrected them and is offering a translation upgrade."

"Inform them we are engaged in a live fire demonstration exercise for the Badgers and it was made known locally. If they just jumped in they almost played target by accident. We know what they are now so we won't fire on them," Gordon concluded.

"The Biter vessel informs us this target shoots back and makes several untranslatable comments about the diet, nesting habits and lack of genealogical history of the High Hope's crew," the translation program informed them.

"Computer, would you characterize the statements as cursing?" Gordon asked.

"There is a probability of seventy to seventy seven percent that any one portion of the statement is negative, due to single matching words and short phrases such as, grass eater, nest fouling and fatherless. However they do not rationally apply to live birth mammals and omnivores. The probability they are a form of cursing in the aggregate approaches unity however."

"Brownie, at what power level did you ping the Biters?" Gordon asked.

"Fifteen percent, Sir."

"Do they have any radar emissions beside their radio communications?"

"Indeed, they do Sir, at a much shorter wave length."

"Paint them very tightly at full available power and run the frequency through a range that covers both their radio and radar," Gordon ordered.

"Aye Sir, rolling ship to bring sufficient emitters on line of sight," Brownie warned. They felt the ship twist under them. "Bringing auxiliary reactor back up and temporarily diverting power from non-essentials." The lights actually dimmed and a lot of amber lights appeared on the control consoles. Brownie was following his orders with enthusiasm, using every watt to be had.

"Painting target. Full frequency shift will take eighteen seconds," Brownie warned. Then the lights came back up to full brightness and several people reported clean start up on environmental systems as well as from the galley and other weapons systems. "No damage, no cross feed on newly installed systems, our radar feeds are all within safe temperatures." Brownie reported.

"What was the point of all that?" Talker asked.

"Just to teach them to be polite. I'd already promised not to fire on them," Gordon explained, "so I just took a very hard look at them with our radar."

Lee spoke up. "Talker, at this range our radar won't burn a hole through their hull, but I doubt they have much left in the way of electronics that are functional. You might let your people in system know that they may need rescued if they don't have life boats, or at least a lot of wire and spare parts."

Talker and Trader looked at each other but said nothing.

"And as far as your previous question," Lee spoke up, "the Florida likely carried a crew of all Humans. The North Americans have a very bad attitude about aliens and they don't like out-world Humans like me much better. When Thor says they could reduce a planetary surface he basically means reduce them to a state they couldn't resist an outside force. It depends on how hard they resisted what that would entail. It might be as easy as removing any weapon sites capable of firing on orbiting ships, or it might mean removing spaceports or even all visible cities. In the extreme I suppose it could mean reducing the entire surface to an uninhabitable state. We would very strongly disapprove of that. Nobody has ever done it and I hope nobody is ever stupid enough to do it, because what goes around comes around."

"That's a new English phrase to us," Talker told Lee, "but it translates, no it actually transliterates, very well to Badger. It's quite an old proverbial saying."

"Good, then you understand exactly," she agreed, satisfied.

Chapter 19

The Sharp Claws, Dart and Roadrunner formed up and lifted away from the cluttered equatorial plane of the gas giant with all its moons, rings and odd pieces of debris before turning to make a jump run for the next star. Two more systems to transverse, numbers 66, 67, and 82, then they'd be back to 80 and the fleet. They were an hour and a half into their run, nothing untoward happening, no communication from the Bill station when the com tech on the Sharp Claws called out on the open common channel.

"Entry radiation! It's on a line from a system we haven't visited," Einstein the com tech called out. The chart says there isn't much there, so they probably just passed through it,"

"What else is out that way?" Captain Frost asked.'

"The Cats system and beyond them a Biter world," the tech answered.

"The Cats don't run their own ships, so I'll bet that is their ride coming for the Biters on the Bill's station," Frost speculated. "May the Bills have the joy of explaining their dead comrades. Especially because I suspect they were left there just to ambush us."

"Assuming there weren't other Biters to tell them on station, unseen," Chance pointed out.

The Dart was in the circuit, but they didn't comment on his speculation.

"Will they dock before we jump out?" Frost asked.

"Another entry right behind them!" Einstein announced.

The com tech. then bounced the data to the navigator to answer Frost. "No, we'll be gone. But they will see we are gone from station scan. It updated about every six minutes, and we hardly left on good enough terms to ask them to edit us out. Are you concerned they will change course and follow us? We are so close to jump we may not be in-system long enough to see it if they do divert from the station to follow us."

"Not at all. The strong impression I am getting is that the Bills are of a different nature than the Badgers we've come to know better. They seem," Frost hesitated and seemed to be having trouble finding words, "much more risk adverse," he finally decided. "I can't imagine them saying anything about what happened until the Biters are docked and then they will probably try to act stupid and say: Who? It will be way too late to try to catch up with us by then."

There was the huffing sound on the circuit that they'd come to recognize as Badger laughter. "You are learning things for yourselves we'd really rather not tell you, because it might seem prejudiced. I see a lot better words listed on the translator screen. But that was so polite. The Bills can rise to physical bravery. Look at the Captain who rammed the Bitter ship. But you are correct that if you have to bet on what reaction you will get from a Bill under stress, the likeliest response will be to avoid conflict and put off a reckoning as long as possible ."

* * *

"That isn't just radar, it's a weapon in itself!" Talker said, shocked.

"Anything can be a weapon," Gordon said with a shrug, "Our radar isn't a cost effective weapon compared to others. Get close enough and you wouldn't want to be in our exhaust cone when we fire the engines up either. But it would make a very awkward expensive weapon."

"What would your radar do to a moonlet of ice like you just hit with the peashooter?" Trader asked.

"I'm actually not sure. I don't know if anybody has tried it. It would depend on what frequency we set it and how narrow we focused the beam down. It might do anything from shatter it to slowly melt it and then boil it. I assume that you know that it takes a lot of power not just to not just heat water but to make it go through the phase changes?"

Talker nodded acknowledgement.

 "I have no desire to sit running both reactors at max sucking down fuel for hours to melt a big-assed snowball,"

"So you'd hope to shatter it?"

"I see no practical reason to mess with it unless we needed a lot of water for some reason. I'll worry about this problem when we find somebody who makes spaceships out of ice. I believe my clan's freighter the Ruddy Rustic took on a full load of water to maximize their mass as much as possible one time, but I never did talk with the Captain to learn the details of how he took it aboard, or for that matter how he got rid of it if he let it freeze again. Since it turned out he didn't need it."

"Why would anyone make a ship as heavy as possible?" Walker asked, suspiciously.

"Well, we were at war with North America over some issues of law. We felt they had broken a treaty with us. They rather disrespected us too. Things were going rather badly for them. They had attacked our territory on Derfhome and lost that force and lost a rather large tonnage of shipping and military craft, both captured and destroyed. They sent a delegation to seek an end to hostilities, but they were so arrogant we didn't feel sure they would negotiate in good faith. They were so much larger than us they assumed they would prevail."

"So we had a ship poised well outside the fringes of their star system to bombard their capital city if they refused to yield. If we'd tried to use some other more conventional weapons they might have intercepted and defeated them, so instead we determined we'd boost a ship straight in to impact their capital city at about twenty four thousand kilometers a second."

"At that velocity coming straight in we really didn't think anybody could intercept it or even deflect it enough to matter. Even if you hit it with some weapon in the last seconds that much mass at such a velocity hitting the atmosphere above the city would do the job, even if you busted it and spread it out a little. But the majority of the continent and northern hemisphere of the planet would have been OK. We're not monsters to want to wipe out a big chunk of the planet, just to decapitate their government."

"Decapitate," Talker said, feeling his throat with a telling gesture, "that's a new word. Is this a common tactic in your wars among yourselves?"

"Decapitation of an adversary's command and control is a well known strategy, but that particular way of doing it has never been used. Still, I expect such a kinetic missile would rouse less anger in the other Earth nations than using, uh, other weapons I'd rather not talk about just yet."

"This means we have yet to hear the worst," Talker told Trader.

"Yes, but there is no way of making them unmet."

"On the contrary. All you'd have to do is say go away and we would," Gordon told them.

"If life were only so simple," Talker said. "Your culture, or cluster of cultures, is still expanding this way. Are all your different planets and nations going to respect it if we say – go away? And that still leaves us to deal with the Biters, who we thought were a problem." He sighed. "Who are undoubtedly aroused in their passions by having someone they can't bully. If you went away I wouldn't expect to find our dealings with them suddenly improved."

"I can't speak for every nation and planet or corporation," Gordon admitted. "The two reps we brought along can speak for Fargone and Red Tree within certain limits. But the Little Fleet will never force themselves upon you unwanted."

"No, we are not happy with some of the things revealed, but neither does it sound like these North Americans are somebody we'd rather deal with. If you know something has negatives, that doesn't mean you jump into something else without looking. I don't mean to insult you, but you are more of a known quality than the others."

"Oh, we have a saying that conveys that sentiment pretty much," Gordon agreed. "Better the devil you know than the devil you don't". It's so well known that sometimes people just say, "Better the devil you know -" and figure the ancillary statement is obvious."

* * *

"I'd like to return to the fleet straightaway now," Chance informed the others as they approached the jump point. "Not stopping for any but the direst necessity, so Gordon doesn't get the news about our conflict with the Biters and being kicked off the Bill's station from them first. I'm sure it will be made to sound like we were rampaging through their systems looking for trouble."

"If he hasn't figured out the fine details of Badger and Bill psychology he has surely gotten the measure of the Biters. He won't be surprised if they begged for a butt whipping," Persevere said.

"Indeed, and they know we are along as a moderating good influence," Fussy said from the Dart. The translation program didn't know what to do with a loud rude raspberry, but Fussy could guess.

* * *

"They want the equivalent of thirty two Earth days to get their act together and load up two ships to return with us to Fargone and New Japan," Prosperity reported. "Do you think that is reasonable, or should I ask a different time frame?

Gordon didn't answer instantly, leaning back in his seat and scratching under his chin.

"How long would it take us to outfit two ships to come here, if it was the Badgers who dropped in on us instead of the other way around?" Lee asked.

"Lee has the right of it," Gordon decided. I'd be amazed if Humans weren't still talking about it instead of doing it at thirty two days. Does two ships mean the Bills are coming along?"

"It does. I get the sense they are number two in the local culture and economy behind the Badgers, although nobody is supplying any numbers or saying it that bluntly. If they don't come along and get in on Human/Derf trade and technology right from the start they'll be a distant second in almost everything," Prosperity said. "But why do you say Humans would still be talking at thirty two days? I feel like there is some unwarranted prejudice there."

"Don't get your nose all bent out of shape," Gordon told him. "Most of the tech we are selling them will come from Fargone or New Japan. Derf know we are second in a lot of ways too."

"With Derf the Mothers decide what is going to happen and issue orders," Lee explained. "They may not be ahead in tech, but their system works faster than committees and consensus, and if the law needs to be changed they just declare it is so."

"Not to say they make the right decision," Gordon admitted, "but they can go wrong very quickly and efficiently." That cracked Thor up.

"Competition may have driven the Badgers planning," Prosperity said, looking surprised like it might be a sudden insight. "The Badgers might have pushed the schedule up, hoping the Bills couldn't get ready in time."

"Tell them yes then," Gordon decided. "But make something clear. If they are under our protection and we share our jump vectors and clock with them, they will take my fleet orders like everybody else. When we are in the deep unknown between the stars there will be one boss. Make that clear and don't soften it nor apologize for it. If they don't like it we'll point the right direction and they can make their own way to our home systems, unarmed and unescorted."

"Ah, you aren't going back the same route, are you?" Lee asked.

"What is the gain in that?" Gordon asked. "The Bunnies won't have had time to sort things out yet to be worth visiting so soon, we did a good enough survey on all the systems for our purposes. If we go back a slightly different route we can potentially double our profitable findings."

"Yeah, I'm totally in agreement. I know how you think. I knew you wouldn't be so concerned about it if we were going back into well known systems," Lee said like a challenge.

"True," Gordon agreed, making a gesture of surrender with both hands.

"Both the Badgers and Bills are petitioning us to leave the Murphy's Law here to protect the station and system from any Biter reprisals. They feel any response would be directed here, because they expect the Biters to see the station as colluding to allow you to visit."

Gordon blinked, speechless for a moment. "Are you sure that's the right word? Is it what they used or did you pick it?"

"No, that's what they picked from the translation program. It's really getting pretty good at fine nuances. The error is not the word, it's that the Biters are crazy."

"Indeed, it's not their station, world or system, unless they have some claim the Badgers haven't revealed," he speculated.

"I'm certain there is not. This is the essence of the sort of problems they have with them. They presume a great deal and feel anything the others do is by their leave as superiors."

"I suspect it is going to be a hard lesson to unlearn this attitude," Thor said.

"How do you feel about leaving the Murphy's Law behind?" Gordon asked. "Are you sure it is within your authority as Fargone Spox to order it?"

Before Prosperity could answer Thor spoke up again. "How do the crew feel about it? They are all volunteers. Best to keep it truly voluntary. To be left behind this far from home may not set well."

"I got verbal instructions about the internal structure of our Fargoer crew from the government and Admiralty in conference with Captain Henry. I know he got written orders, but not what. I'm not really ordering it. With Captain Henry I'm requesting it. So you may assume if he has no objection he found the suggestion within my proper purview. I was counseled to consult with Captain Henry for any major decisions, but specifically told I had no veto on his command authority. He is willing to consider remaining here for a reasonable period of time. He is not willing to stay on a hold at all cost basis, no matter how long we delay returning."

"Can't say that I blame him," Lee threw in.

"Since we can now estimate how long the return voyage would be for the fleet it would be possible to leave a portion of the excess stores for him, and the Roadrunner. Or as he made clear, "If Gordon and Lee approve." He realized you may feel it isn't safe to leave that much firepower behind and wouldn't approve. All the more so if you are going back a different route."

 "Are they making any progress testing local foodstuffs for Humans?" Lee wondered. "If they had some local supply it would stretch what they have. It's too bad we don't have more seeds. If we had more than samples we could test having the Badgers grow our own crops for the crew of the Murphy's Law."

"Well, beside vodka they have a pretty good rum now," Prosperity admitted."That should hold the Fargoers for a year. We have a few grains that look promising. They have starch, so they'll have calories, but we're not sure about trace nutrients. We can make a lot of that up with yeast cultures and synthetics."

"Have you some reasonable estimate how long they could stay?" Gordon asked.

"About a year and a half. Maintenance issues will most likely become an issue before food. But now I have another question, since you revealed you'll be going back by a different route. Would the people who remain here share in the discoveries you might make on the way back? I'm not saying they have an entitlement, but human nature being what it is, they may resent it if they return to find their pay-out is half what the others get. They'll have spent as much time, more likely, and be in a position of some risk. Their duty here is not unrelated to your fundamental enterprise since it secures the new relationship with the Badgers. They won't be there for new claims on the way back, but it seems to me they are still supporting you."

"It's a personal matter too," Lee reminded him. "I assumed you'd remain with the Murphy's Law."

"I'm hurt if you think I was angling for a bigger share," Prosperity said. "I actually thought I'd go back with the Badger and Bill delegation to work with them back home. I know them better than anyone else and they actually asked if I'd be available to help them in their dealings."

"Oh, I didn't know. You have to understand. I wouldn't think it a bad thing to want a full share."

"Thank you. Some would regard it as selfish I believe."

"No, I think we have found so much, it would be selfish to try to cut anybody out when we all went in with the idea of fully sharing. As you said, it's not like they would go home early or something. What they would be doing certainly supports the rest of us. How do you feel about it Gordon? Do you have any trouble giving them shares if we find something like another brown dwarf on the way back?"

"The crew of Murphy's Law? No. But just in case they get ideas, the Badgers and Bills are along for their own purposes. They're not part of the Little Fleet, and the route we'll take back falls in the cone of interest ceded to us. So their ships don't get shares," Gordon said.

"I don't think the idea ever occurred to them," Prosperity said. "Do you want me to tell them quite explicitly?" It seemed to make him uncomfortable.

"They might take offense, if it wasn't their expectation anyway," Lee worried.

"Handle it with a little finesse," Gordon decided. "Don't raise it as a separate issue, but weave it into telling them they have to follow fleet orders on the way back. You said the translation is getting good enough for fine nuances. Contrast that they are expected to follow fleet orders for maneuvers and course even though their mission is not ours and they aren't under the same contract. You should be able to make it plain without making it the point of the conversation or hitting them over the head with it."

"Indeed, I can see several ways to do that. I shall point out that while we are happy to escort them, they may need to patiently wait on occasion for us to do survey work and mark claims, even though it is of no benefit to them."

"See? I had every confidence you could handle it," Gordon said, pleased.

* * *

"What do you call this system or this world?" Lee asked Talker. "I'm tired of referring to it as system 80. Surely we have sufficient translation ability now we can find an approximate name, even if it is just a colloquial expression. Or do you really call it by the catalog number in casual conversation?"

"The Captain of the ship Star Jitter named the world Far Away. The star is just called the Star, on pretty much whatever world you are visiting. Well, the Home Star will be called that specifically."

"Star Jitter?" Lee asked, looking askance.

"See? We have translation troubles already. That's your doubting look I've learned." He consulted his pad. "I see, jitter is an electronics term, or a term in pseudochronoquantumstatistics... Whatever the hell that is," he said shaking his head. A gesture he'd picked up quickly. "What do you call it when you look at a star from a world and the atmosphere makes it move about or even disappear and reappear from turbulence?"

"Oh! It twinkles," Lee supplied.

"Star Twinkle?" Talker examined the translation program at some length. "I get the sense this word doesn't have an air of...somberness. It is used in jokes and to describe frivolous things. But glisten, glimmer, scintillate, flicker? No, twinkle it is I guess." He blinked and got an odd look himself. "Twinkle, twinkle little star?" he asked, amused.

"Oh, that's a child's song or poem. Pre-spaceflight I think. One also speaks of a person's eye twinkling when they are delighted or mischievous."

"How can your eye twinkle?" Talker asked.

"By making a quick movement or blinking. Oh, they sometimes say that you do something with a sparkle in your eye too," Lee remembered.

"Spark, sparks, sparkle, Star Sparkle", he tried out. "It has more action and power. That has a much better sound. A ship's name should fall from your snout with authority," he declared.

"Star Sparkle it is then," Lee agreed. So, why did the Captain name the world Far Away?"

"Oh, I got side-tracked. Excuse me. He named it because it was an unusually long voyage from the Home World. The same I imagine as your Fargone. Right?"

"Yeah, at the time, although we go past it now. It's still closer to the frontier than Earth," Lee admitted.

"And so shall Far Away be in time I pray, if we can explore in safety again."

"I hope so too," Lee agreed. "But I have to tell you Talker, the sky is big. If you got away with going exploring unarmed until you met the Biters, well good for you, but now you should see that may not always work. Time to pull your big boy pants on and be ready to defend yourself. We're happy to help, but in the long run, you're going to have to do it yourself."

"I know. As distasteful as it is we have come to a similar consensus," Talker agreed.

* * *

The Sharp Claws, Roadrunner and Dart entered the next system, number 66, headed back to their fleet. They spread out a little, jumping on the same mark, but not trying to hide their entry signature by proximity. If one was off a bit it still would have rattled them, the late entry badly, but not destroyed them.

This was a Bill system too, but without a significant station and only a small commercial presence. There was a gas giant but no fueling depot, the local mining operation just skimming the gas planet for their fuel needs with little storage. When asked, Fussy informed them there was a source of lithium being mined on one of the moons, an occasional find of boron and the gas giant was unusually rich in deuterium. A few Bills researchers came by now and then to do studies on the reasons for the abundance of light elements, since it was an anomaly.

Their exit from the neighboring station and system hadn't been on the best of terms, so they broadcasted a notice they had no mail or data dump to share. Their course was fast and across the opposite side of the star without a large change in vector, so they'd be gone before the station heard them and could reply.

"Entry radiation behind us," Einstein on the Sharp Claws informed them calmly. Their sensor suite was the best of the three ships.

"One or could it be the pair we saw just now leaving?" Chance asked from the Roadrunner.

"Biters don't jump in sync as far as I know," Captain Fussy said from the Dart.

"And there is his friend right behind. Not close at all," Einstein confirmed.

"They had to turn and follow us as soon as our wave front hit them. That doesn't seem good. They couldn't have known what happened on station, they maneuvered before they could talk to each other," he sat and thought on it a bit, "that means they were coming specifically for us and they did not expect to see us leaving," Chance said, following the chain of logic aloud and frowning.

"Can't argue that," Lord Byron, XO on the Sharp Claws agreed after a very brief pause.

"So that bunch converging on Bob and Dauntless on station wasn't called in from randomly meeting the Biter in the bar, nor was it a simple display of Biter temper," Chance concluded. "It was an ambush designed to keep us there on the station, and maybe to capture one of our ships."

"If I may comment," the Badger Captain Fussy said on the open channel, "it would surprise me, after seeing all this, if the Biters were not arranging for you and a Human ship to be stuck on station. I'd wager they expected to kidnap you or get you stuck in the station lock-up and were counting on the fact that your ship would not leave without you. They'd never expect us to allow new aliens on one of our ships. I have to admit it has been uncommon for us to share up until now. The Cats as you call them have always had a hard time buying passage. People are not comfortable with them. I can say with certainty the Biters would never invite another race to pollute their decks."

"So, when we showed up with three races on our flight deck to greet you in the video it surprised you?" Fat asked amused.

"At the time it seemed a huge thing," Fussy admitted. "Some of the revelations since and brushing the Biters aside with absolute contempt have made us forget what the fuss was about back then. It seems like that was a long time ago instead of weeks. You really got our attention when you vaporized the back off the Biter ship. We figured out pretty quickly that was on purpose, not poor marksmanship, and you could have reduced the whole thing to plasma."

Nobody corrected him.

"Would the station normally arrest a Biter if he caused trouble?" Chance wondered.

"They have on rare occasion arrested a drunk Biter making trouble, but released him to the custody of his ship when they came for him. But that's Biters. They wouldn't expect the same of grass eaters. They certainly wouldn't expect you to fight or stand up to local security as they would."

"I suspect they may have laid plans to capture a human ship at dock before their ships returned," Fat Ortega said darkly, "They'd have been very upset and disappointed if they went to such extremes and it was only a Badger ship that docked."

"I don't like running from these scum," Fat Ortega growled.

"But fighting an action with a follower is much more difficult. Are they chasing us?" Chance asked thoughtfully.

"No, you missed a mail drop a few systems back and they are trying to catch up and deliver it."

"Now Fat, such sarcasm isn't like you. I'm thinking if we hold our present course and jump out as planned at a normal velocity and they attempt to intercept us before jump, then they will be forced to jump deep and have a lot of speed to dump. Seems to me they will be forced to overshoot us and reverse positions with us."

"I've pinged them six times since they entered. When I get a return on that I can give you a better approximation in about an hour twenty minutes," Einstein promised. "We have enough lead on them we could increase our acceleration and get to jump well ahead of them, but then we'd be in the same relationship in the next system, both of us having jumped deep and hot."

"No, maintain our present heading and acceleration. Fussy, if we do need to run later or in the next system, can you pull three g for several hours?"

"I can do three Human gravities after about a fifteen minute preparation period. I can do four g for about six of your hours with only a five percent probability of crew injury. At five g the probability rises to fifteen percent. At four or five g we can't deal with any emergency that requires us to leave our couch or bunk without cutting back, preferably to about two and a half g." They had never revealed their capacity before, but he didn't hesitate to answer under the circumstances.

"We'll try to stay out of their weapon range before jump. I'll accelerate at the last if it is a close thing and we'll go to Battle Stations on the Sharp Claws well before they are in weapons range."

"Time to catch a bite and move around a bit before the action." Frost suggested.

Chapter 20

"May I join you?" Talker asked Lee.

"Sure, pull up a chair. You don't mind if I eat?" she asked.

"No, indeed, I have something of my own," he informed her hefting a very ordinary paper bag to show her.

"That looks like any bag a Earth Deli would use for take-away. Isn't it interesting how many things we've come up with the same solutions? I'm glad you weren't a race of clams or spiders who are so weird we can't talk to you. I mean, we have Badgers and our people trading jokes! Although some of them seem to be as old as ours. Old as in, already old when they were hunting Mammoths."

"This is why I enjoy visiting with you," Talker said, looking at his pad. "I never would have heard of Mammoths. Just the portion of your English web we have is more than anyone can study in a lifetime. Is this accurate?" he asked turning the small computer around, showing her a picture of a group of fur clad Humans with spears using a very hairy Mammoth for a pin cushion.

"They are guessing a lot," Lee admitted, squirting mustard in her sandwich. "They're going from the stone points and junk left around camp fires such as the bones which have the marks on them from butchering. I know they have found whole Mammoths frozen, but not with spears stuck in them and Humans preserved too. I suspect the folks who drew that are academics and if they had to hunt a Mammoth you'd have a lot of squashed academics before they figured out how to do it."

"Really? How would you do it?"

"First, you don't have anything to drink," Lee noticed. "If you want some coffee, it has been cleared for Badgers. You can get it from the big stainless steel urn there. Just put a mug under the nozzle and pull on the black lever."

"I'll do that, I've tasted vodka and what they are calling rum, which Fargoers assure me is a pale imitation, and something called rice that didn't impress me at all." He chose a mug and filled it without being too clumsy. He returned and sat across from Lee again. He sniffed at it cautiously.

"It smells like..." he had to stop and use the pad again. "We have something you'd call a nut. It can be eaten raw, but too much of the raw will give you digestive distress. We roast it by stirring it in a heavy metal pan until it gets browned a bit and the oils start bleeding out. It is eaten out of hand or put in breads and soups. Never in a beverage to my knowledge."

"Coffee is roasted too. It's the seed inside a berry and the pulpy part is thrown away. Then it is ground up to let the water extract the flavor and color better. It is a mild stimulant too."

Talker tried to lap some up. "Nope, still too hot for me."

"Steward!" Lee called. "Do you have a minute?" A Fargoer appeared wiping his hands on an apron. "Do you have a zero g container handy? If it's buried away and going to take you too long don't bother, but Talker here isn't suited to using a mug. I should have figured out he doesn't really have lips. I think a sippy-cup would be much easier. An insulated one preferably."

"I know right where they are Ma'am," he promised her and disappeared.

"If I were hunting Mammoth I would never surround it like in your picture," Lee assured him. "I know I'm not going to stick a spear in it and have it fall over dead. It's going to be pissed off or scared, and take off either to get away or to trample one of these little creeps irritating it. Surrounding it just guarantees no matter which way it moves somebody is going to get squished."

The steward returned and displayed a cup with a handle much like he already had, but of a lighter material, thick walled and having suction tube reaching to the bottom of the cup from the cover that sealed the top off. He filled it with one deft motion from the ceramic mug. The skill with which he transferred the coffee from a mug with a rounded top edge surprised Talker. He sealed it closed so Talker would see how he did it, but offered no verbal instruction, not wanting to interrupt Lee.

"Be careful," Lee did pause to warn him. "It's easier to burn your mouth sucking it up a straw than sipping it from an open cup." He nodded an acknowledgement, thoroughly comfortable with the Human gesture now.

"If it were me, I'd send one young clueless male, who could run like crazy to stick the Mammoth with a really heavy spear, then run for his life. Something with barbs behind the head so the Mammoth couldn't rub against a tree or something and get it out. Then I'd let it get weak and slow from the wound before finishing it off. You might have to follow it a few days, but that's a lot of meat, so it would be worth it."

Lee looked at Talker funny. "OK, I'm not stupid. I know that is your amused look. Worse, I think it's your amused look but busting a gut not to show it. You get little dimples around your whiskers even if you can keep your mouth straight," she accused. "What's so funny?"

"It's involuntary," he said smoothing his whiskers flat down both sides oh his muzzle with both hands. "I fear you'll take offense." He took a sip carefully from his cup.

"So what, you think we'll never offend each other?" Lee said with a shrug.

Talker took a deep breath. "It amused me, that you suggest getting someone to hunt, young and lacking a clue? Clueless? To go recklessly in harm's way. Yet you are quite young. Is this an indictment of your age group or an immodest statement you are a superior specimen of your age group? You did say male. Are the males really so different?"

"I'm told young males my age are a hormone driven horror of recklessness." She stopped and cocked her head over and frowned, thinking. "I remember when we were on Luna, Earth's moon, Gordon got shot in the head and there was no Derf doctor to attend him. They called in a veterinarian. You understand what that is?"

"Indeed I do," Talker said checking his pad. "We also separate the treatment of Badgers and their livestock and research animals." He read a bit more and held up a finger to forestall her a moment. "We do not have what I am reading here though. Animals kept for companionship."

"Yeah, pets. It seemed weird to me at first too. I helped care for animals on our exploration ship. We kept them to test the suitability of living worlds. But this veterinarian, who seemed pretty smart to me, said her experience was that male Humans, dogs, which are Canines, and even aliens such as Derf never grow up. She wasn't joking and she was directly applying it to crazy risk taking behavior. Take that bit of folksy wisdom for whatever you think it's worth," Lee offered.

"I'd find that hard to accept since I'm male. However, Gordon was shot in the head? How is it he's still alive." Talker asked.

"If he were Human he wouldn't be alive. It was an older gun, a genuine antique, of what I'd characterize as a medium caliber. The round grazed his scalp and ricocheted off his skull with enough retained energy left to vent the corridor to vacuum. Trust me, Derf are hard headed beyond belief. If you are going to shoot a Derf use a big gun with a full magazine."

"Thank you, I think I am well advised on that, but it's not an action I am contemplating, but what of you again?"

I'm not typical," Lee insisted. "It's not just ego. I grew up on a spaceship, isolated socially and in the company of adults, my Human parents and Gordon. When my parents died Gordon took over for them raising and protecting me. He's not entirely done yet. It turns out I learned lot more for my age than what other kids learn back in so called 'civilization'. They weren't surrounded by things that if you 'played' thoughtlessly with them killed you. In fact I find it sort of repulsive how they are coddled and protected to the point they fail to do for themselves long after they could if properly guided."

"I like speaking with you because I felt you have a bluntness that perhaps your adults lack. But you're telling me it isn't a product of your age?" Talker asked.

"No, more likely my upbringing. I grew up with people I could trust. There was no advantage to deception. It might be fatal. Gordon had to teach me not to just blurt out anything I wanted when we visited Human society. I still see blunt honesty as safer and less trouble in the long run if you are dealing with decent honest people. I really believe if I deceive you it won't last forever and it will come back on me worse in the end than if I am forthright in the first place."

Talker sat silent for awhile, thoughtful, Lee guessed by his expression.

"And if you deceive me I won't be nearly as forgiving as people raised to regard it as a fun game to see how much they can fool you. Fair warning to you," she said lifting an index finger for emphasis.

Talker tried out the gesture, but didn't ask the meaning. He seemed to get it.

"I was sort of extrapolating from what you said. I was pretty close to figuring that out on my own. But you haven't told us everything," Talker reminded her.

"Like how we burnt the butt off the Biter ship?" Lee asked. "No, but that's not deception, we're just not ready to share that information with you. We aren't covering it up or lying about it. We value a certain amount of privacy. Look up how that word is used. There are a hundred other things we haven't shared, some because we're embarrassed by them. Humans have done some pretty awful things. At least a lot of them were to other humans. It's not like we are just cruel to outsiders. I'm not at all happy how Earth Humans treated me when I visited. If you think I was unhappy, well, Gordon started a war over how they treated me."

"This coffee is interesting," Talker allowed, "but it has a bitter edge to it that is a little strong to me. I can't quite ignore it. Badgers aren't big on bitter tastes."

"The little paper packets there are sugar. It's been cleared too, but we already know if you eat too much it gives Badgers diarrhea. I'd suggest maybe a quarter or a third of a packet in the coffee might please you. The other stuff is cream. It isn't cleared and it might be dangerous. It has a lot of odd proteins and enzymes and not even all Humans can digest it. In fact it's a Human food that Derf have less trouble with than Humans. The Derf have cast iron guts."

"I find that very doubtful," Talker said frowning at his little computer.

"Hyperbole," Lee explained. "It’s exaggeration to make a point."

"Ah, that's a Bill thing, although we show some talent in using sarcasm."

"Human cultures vary too. Sometimes I understand Derf better than my own species," Lee said.

"This internal division...It worries me. Exactly how are you different than these other factions? Gordon has warned me that New Japan may seem as different from Fargone as Derfhome is even though they are both Human worlds. Why did you have so much trouble going to Earth? And yet we don't see you abandoning their claims system after you even fought a short war with them. That surprises me."

"You have time? It's not a short story."

Talker nodded his assent, looking attentive and genuinely interested.

"OK, this will take awhile. You might want another cup of coffee," she suggested. The one with a little sugar had gone down much quicker she noticed. "We went down to Earth to play tourist at a place in North America called California."

Talker stirred some more sugar in his fresh coffee and nodded encouragement for her to continue.

"I was stupid about local custom and hazard. I'd never been a victim of crime and wore a very expensive piece of jewelry that was a trouble magnet," she remembered, grimacing."I was terribly green about how to act in public places..."

* * *

"The Biters are boosting at two point four-three g, compared to our present one point one-one. I have no idea if that is physically easy or hard for a Biter," Einstein admitted. "My initial estimate is they could be within our missile range twenty two minutes before we jump. If we wish to see whether the shot is good before we jump we have to take it quickly. If we shoot later we'll be gone when they engage our fire."

"I'd really rather you not expend another missile on them," Chance said. "We've used up two already. I have no hard data on their weapons range." He was still second guessing himself for having used two missiles on the Biter group. Sharp Claws only carried six of them after all... Maybe he should have told Captain Frost to see if one missile would do the job. But he didn't want to micromanage him.

"Neither do I know their range," Captain Fussy on the Dart volunteered. "We've seen them fight each other, but they tend to come straight at each other with little finesse. Making a run to jump I've never seen one go more than about one point eight g, but they certainly don't look physically frail. I have no idea of their limits. We haven't seen them fire missiles at each other beyond twenty thousand kilometers. The shot they took at your drone was the longest one we've seen. But they must have to detonate much closer than yours to be effective." He didn't ask what their weapons range was.

"Thank you Captain Fussy. Sharp Claws, update me immediately if you refine the intercept point or if they change acceleration," Chance ordered.

"Aye Sir. See to it Einstein," Frost ordered. Not offended at all that it was obvious.

* * *

"And that's how I escaped Earth, and how the war with North America ended," Lee told Talker.

"A lot of that story I can't fully understand yet," he admitted. "I just don't have the mental images for a lot of the locations. I substitute something similar from my own experience. Our courtrooms probably don't look anything like yours. We always have three judges or five, not one. I suspect our hotels may be very different from your description of the lobby. A desert may be very different. I can think of three deserts I've know that are each unique. But I certainly got the general vision of your adventure. In honesty I have to say we have divisions among Badgers. Perhaps as strong as between Earth Humans and those who left the home world. It's complicated and I'll try to tell you when it affects how we treat you." He looked down at his hands and seemed alarmed. They were trembling slightly.

"Are you OK?" Lee asked, concerned.

"I thought I was just caught up in your story, but I seem to feel...odd. My heart is racing a bit and I feel, not scared, but something very similar."

"How many cups of coffee did you have?"

"Four? Maybe five. I was listening and lost track. It's really quite pleasant with the sweetener."

"It has caffeine, a stimulant. Five mugs would leave me wired too."

"There is a plant the long haired race of Badgers chew that has this effect. We make fun of them for using it," he said, visibly amused at himself. "How long does it last?"

"For humans and Derf about four hours. I hope you were not planning to go sleep soon."

"You story was honestly interesting, but I don't think I could sleep now if you were reading math tables, or my favorite aunt was telling me what my cousins have been doing since I was home."

"That's the ultimate test of boredom?" Lee asked.

"The ultimate test of courtesy," Talker corrected, laughing. "I could use this coffee instead of biting my tongue to stay awake. One cousin who she dotes on is an accountant. Need I say how exciting his life is? Another writes novels for single young females. The sort of novels in which something lurid almost happens with predictable regularity, but not quite, because that would be vulgar."

"Oh! Romances!" Lee realized. She was amazed.

"Dear sweet gods, you have the same horrid sort of stories?"

"Yes, it's amazing how much we are alike," she repeated. "We call a class of stories like that a genre and Romances are a big, seller. I tried reading a few, but I didn't grow up properly socialized. I don't think I have the right responses programmed in me to appreciate them. I never was able to finish one."

"My cousin is perfectly suited to writing them. I fear she has never experienced a real relationship with a male, so she couldn't write the implied scenes if she had to. She is a stereo-typical long unmarried female. Do you have a term for those too?"

"Yes, we call them old maids, but it is an old slur held to be very offensive now. Things have changed and unmarried females are not to be pitied. Nor told they are wrong to choose that life."

"Indeed, there is a fruit, tu-tir-id is the sound of the word, and we call such old maids green tutirids because the fruit is very sour unripened."

"I'll be careful how I use that then," Lee agreed.

"I'm a bad influence I'm afraid." Talker said the words but seemed unrepentant.

"What are some other Badger jabs and insults then?" Lee asked.

Talker looked over his shoulders to see who might be lurking about, and he got dimples again on his snout. "Well the Bill's customs practically invite jokes. A Bill, a Badger, and a Cat went into a bar..." He started, leaning forward.

* * *

"Sir. The Biters in pursuit have spread a little. I'm not sure if they are anticipating their jump or some other reason," Einstein on the Sharp Claws informed his captain and Chance.

"I'm not certain either," Chance said, looking at the data feed off Sharp Claw's better sensors.

"Commander, unless you have some objection, I'm going to battle stations early."

"You are responsible for your vessel, Captain Frost. Do what you think prudent. I have no problem with going weapons manned and hot right now."

"I have a gut feeling. When I don't understand things it makes me nervous."

"As well it should. Dart, I'm putting Roadrunner crew in suits and secure conditions for maneuvering. I suggest you do the same."

"We are securing nonessential operations and putting off duty crew in their bunks secured. I'm also suiting up and prepositioning damage control," Captain Fussy agreed readily.

"Good. I had an itch I couldn't scratch too," Fat Ortega admitted.

"I order you to advise me anytime you have a non-specific unease," Chance told Fat. "As much command experience as you have I value any such uncomfortable feelings. Sometimes these things fester in our hind brains and we don't become fully conscious of why in time to act on them. If it turns out it was just a bit of indigestion this time we are still well served to pay attention to them."

"Aye, Sir."

"Acceleration change on the Biters," Einstein called out. "They uh, hang on a second, this doesn't make any sense. I have conflicting... Ah! One jumped his boost up to three point two g. The other dropped his off to point eight-seven."

"One is pushing to engage us. If he doesn't succeed and isn't destroyed himself he will end up insystem from us on jump as I hoped. The other will not engage us in this system but will follow us into the next. They could end up bracketing us in the next system. I have to admire their strategy," Chance allowed. "It's more difficult to deal with than having both one in front and one behind."

"The bastard is going to force us to use a missile on him," Chance complained. "We can't use the Greaser to the rear without cutting acceleration and turning the Sharp Claws sideways to him up close and right before jump. I won't risk it. But I..."

"Entry radiation!" Einstein called out. "Six light minutes ahead and not five degrees off our course. Another! A bit further off beam and overtaking. He's got to be really big! Or a group. That was a bright entry burst."

"Ping them both, but not at levels to damage them," Chance ordered.

We will have confirmation if it is a known Biter hull shape in three minutes," Einstein said.

"Greaser hot to track first vessel to enter and fire on my word," Frost ordered. "I'll try not to use those missiles up," Frost promised Chance. They had four left, but it was a long way back for more.

"The Biter in hot pursuit of us has dropped back to their original acceleration," Einstein noted.

"So he has no idea what is happening either. I was starting to wonder if they somehow got ahead of us to lay an ambush, but I couldn't see them having time to get word out and move ships," Chance said.

"We are illuminated," Einstein informed them. "Biter radar and now the other ship. The second ship is radiating at much higher power density than the first.

"That's not a Biter," Fat said with conviction.

"Voice transmission following radar from second vessel," Einstein said.

"Play it on the open channel," Chance ordered.

The sound wasn't anything they expected. It shrieked, it gobbled, it moaned and wailed a horrible lament that sent chills down their spines then dopplered away to nothing.

"No further transmission," Einstein said.

"That is nothing from any of our species," Fussy assured them.

"Could that possibly be speech?" Fat Ortega wondered.

"Why transmit it otherwise?" Frost asked.

"Sudden thermal emissions on first vessel, and I have an image. First vessel is a match for Biter hulls. The thermal emissions are a match for previous Biter missile launches. Radar now confirms Biter missile launch targets us. Closing is more from our relative velocities than its acceleration. Time to impact nineteen minutes."

"We can jump to system 82 before that," Frost said.

"Another Biter launch," Einstein said.

"He must be able to see with that crappy radar that he has multiple targets," Frost guessed.

"Second vessel shows over seven hundred meters long with eighty by fifty meter cross section," Einstein reported, but he made it sound like a question.

"Greaser crew is weapons free to fire on Biter vessel," Frost ordered. "I don't care if we can jump out before they arrive. You don't fire on us with impunity."

"The large vessel has thermal emissions indicating a missile launch. It appears to be three missiles. Targets indeterminate for a few seconds." Einstein was showing a little stress in his voice. "The large vessel is not braking. They appear to be on an intercept vector with the Biter. Radar clarifies unknown large vessel is targeting us with their fire. Their missiles have much higher acceleration. They may arrive before jump. Especially if they are standoff weapons."

"Program the two missiles in our tubes on the large vessel," Frost ordered. "Full evasive programs and ECM active on the X-heads. Hold fire. Repeat, hold them hot but do not fire. If his weapons get through our close defense we'll send him a little message from the grave," Frost vowed.

"Hit! Radar shows Biter vessel breaking up from Greaser fire. We didn't just hole him, we must have hit something that generated secondary effects. Greaser is working on Biter missiles now. We have...wow."

"Einstein, 'wow' is not...OK, I'm seeing it on my own display. Wow indeed," Chance agreed.

"Large unknown vessel has altered course upon destruction of the Biter vessel. It now appears to be on a course to stop along the track of our hindmost follower. I can only assume he intends to reverse course and intercept him. It is decelerating at fourteen point six g," Einstein reported, awed.

"Why not just shoot in passing?" Fussy asked.

"He doesn't..."

"Detonations! All three missiles targeted on us detonated simultaneously," Einstein reported. "They were nukes, but surprisingly small yield. The spectra were weird."

"Remove missile targeting on large vessel," Frost ordered. "Return to untargeted ready condition."

"You don't need full power when you send a self destruct command. Just enough to vaporize the missile," Chance explained. "They decided anybody shooting Biters was off their target list. But they are probably still pissed at us for shooting him."

"Why?" Fussy asked, still not getting it.

"They never intended to fire on him. They jumped in on his tail intent on intercepting and capturing him," Chance told the Badger with a smile. "Now they are going for the rear fellow on our tail. Even at fourteen g he'd never double back and catch our near follower before jump. He'll still be ours to deal with in the next system."

"The spectra... I think they were pure fusion weapons," Einstein said, remembering to mute the feed to Fussy this time.

"Well, we already knew anybody who could build that are ahead of us in tech," Chance said, and made a subtle switch flicking gesture to Einstein before Fussy noticed too much dead airtime.

"Shit. Who did the Biters piss off who make spaceships damn near a kilometer long that have that sort of legs?" Fat Ortega asked.

"I don't know. They thought we were a problem," he said amused. "May they have the joy of whatever their arrogance has bought them. Einstein, quickly prepare a video mosaic of Humans, Hinth and Derf to transmit to the new fellow before we jump. Fussy, your call to make, do you want cameos of your races added to the mosaic? Less the Biters of course."

"You want to reveal that much to a complete unknown?" Fussy asked. "It also implies we are closer associates than has happened yet, though I expect it will."

"They told me enough about their character when they destroyed their missiles in flight. These folks have weapons similar to ours. You could do worse than imply we are friends under the circumstances."

Fussy blinked once. "Do it," he agreed. Probably with all sorts of reservations there was simply no time to express, possibly exceeding his legal authority too.

"Brief mosaic of our images sent," Einstein reported. "It was head and shoulder shots and I doubt it will win any awards for video composition and directing."

"I'd love to see how they capture the Biters," Chance told them. "Unfortunately we would need to engage the Biters in stern chase of us here and jump very late into the known jump parameters to see it."

"That's why I agreed to associate us in the video," Fussy informed Chase.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"We are jumping out and the new species, new race, will be alone here with the Biters. I can't imagine the Biters surrendering graciously at all. They will resist and try to fire on them and probably make them cut their way in their hull and drag them out," Fussy predicted. "I can easily imagine them either claiming an association as allies with us in their usual bluster, or worse, claiming ownership of us as what you called client races. Neither of which the new fellows are as likely to believe now after they figure out the format and see us all in that video, sans the Biters."

"Our shooting the Biter they pursued should remove all doubt," Chase said.

"Jump in three minutes," Chance announced. "On the even minute by our clock at 17:12. No time to spread out. Let's show the new fellow we have some style leaving."

At 17:120000000000001 they were gone to system 82. Their fleet was one more jump.

Chapter 21

"I'd really like to visit your planet," Lee told Talker. "I imagine it's quite different from your station. Every planet I've been to had something worth seeing."

"I thought you'd had your fill of planets after Earth," Talker said.

"I don't want to be stuck on one it's true. But they can be beautiful and interesting. I especially liked the time we spent on Derfhome walking in the deep forest and meeting Gordon's people."

"So you had a pretty good visit on Derfhome?"

"It wasn't without its negatives. The first Mother wasn't too pleased to have me as a guest. We managed to resolve that without bloodshed."

Talker got that rippled look to his muzzle Lee was learning was puzzlement or doubt, quite distinct from amusement or surprise. "That's always a plus," he allowed.

Lee ignored the wry remark.

"I'll have to ask permission from the planetary authorities. We have quite distinct areas of responsibility. They have not been thrilled at all our activities up here. Worried it will bring trouble to them below. I'd note they were once asked to allow Biters on the planetary surface and refused. When the Biters asked again in less polite terms the planetary officials plainly said they would consider it an invasion and kill them. That they were issuing and dispersing weapons to the general population to act as a militia with instruction to resist even if there was no central directing authority."

"Are you trying to prepare me not to be shocked if they feel the same about us?" Lee asked.

"No. They are aware of the deals we are making and the potential benefits to all our worlds. The Biters never had any real benefit to offer. They'll pay for something begrudgedly if they can't steal it. They've seen images of you and I doubt they'll feel threatened by one small Human female."

Talker could tell from the frown and glare that he'd offended her, but couldn't figure out why.

* * *

"Clean sky," Einstein reported after they emerged in the next system, number 82, and there was no close traffic.

"You may stand down from battle stations and damage alerts if it pleases you," Chance offered. Fussy and Frost both issued such orders, to the relief of their crews.

There was a system traffic history scan being transmitted. There was mining activity but not a living world. Not even much mining activity on the one dead world that supported it. Most of it was in space.

The system scan showed a sped up replay of the Biter ship they'd killed before jump entering this system almost opposite and making an easy change of vector without shedding much velocity. They were well along their crossing when the huge stranger ship entered from an entirely different quadrant. It made a violent right angle burn to chase them. The Biter ship had accelerated hard for jump not attempting to reply to the brief Banshee wail the stranger transmitted once. The scan was so recent the end of the chase and both ships' jump hadn't propagated to the central scan and back to be incorporated in the latest broadcast. However the wave front of that event was long gone since they entered near where it happened. It would take most of their transit before system scan caught up and retransmitted the two ships leaving where they were coming in.

"Record that scream carefully," Chance instructed. "I suspect it is something like – stand to and prepare to be boarded."

"Well what would you do if something that size and power chased you?" Captain Fussy asked.

"I'd try to talk to him. If I couldn't talk and he acted aggressively I'd hit him with everything I had. If that didn't work I'd let him try to board me and blow the ship if he got close enough to let me take him with me."

"You'd destroy your ship before allowing it to be captured?" Fussy asked, big eyed.

"Yes." Chance answered without any attempt to persuade him.

"You'd follow these orders?" he asked on the open channel, but not of any specific officer. He seemed clueless about how offensive and inappropriate such a question was.

Captain Frost just glared out of the screen at him, too angry to speak.

"Well of course..." Lord Byron replied like he was a bit daft to ask.

"Certainly," Einstein answered. "We all would."

"I am on the command circuit back in engineering," Ho'omanawanui said. "I don't usually have anything to say, but let me tell you Badger Boy, if we were defeated, boarded, and I didn't have orders coming from the flight deck anymore, you better damn well believe that we'd have a dual reactor failure you could see at the neighboring stars."

"Oh."

"Entry radiation, ahead. Yes! They overjumped us," Einstein reported. "System scan is no use to them. Neither of us will be on it for a several hours even though it happens to be on our side of the star.

"Locals are saying hello," Einstein reported.

"Captain Fussy, would you speak with them for us please?" Chance asked, apparently unmoved by the previous discussion. Surely Fussy understood which way the wind blew now.

"Certainly, Would you give me some idea how much you want me to reveal of outsystem action and your intentions?"

"I imagine they will want to know what was happening with that huge strange ship. I certainly would. You are free to tell them the Biter ship it was pursuing fired on us unprovoked and we destroyed it. I have no more information on the stranger I wish to share. I would rather not speculate they may intend an interception and capture without any real proof. If they know any more than is on system scan we'd sure like to know. As to the Biter ship ahead of us, you may say it has pursued us very aggressively and we consider it hostile."

"Einstein, would you use the Trade translation program and very politely inform the Biter ship ahead of us that his fellow Biters have been making a habit of shooting at us and we intend to destroy him if we see him do anything but proceed straight through the system," Chance requested.

"Aye, Sir, with pleasure. He overjumped us a couple light minutes, so we'll be waiting four minutes plus time for him to tell us if he's decided it's a good day to die."

"The locals calling us are miners," Fussy reported, "they said some of their fellows over in the area the big ship came in hailed it close enough they should have heard but they got no reply. They agree the Biters are trouble and what you'd call a pain in the butt. They stopped short of saying to go ahead and shoot them, but I think that's the way sentiment runs. They are more concerned with the unknown. I told them the Biter that just exited ahead of the big ship fired on us and then we destroyed them in flight."

"Thank you Captain Fussy. Which of your races are the locals here?" Chance wondered.

"Badgers and what you call Sasquatch. They've an affinity for deep space mining."

"Biters have our message," Einstein noted.

"You know, if I were a miner looking for asteroids worth busting up, I believe I'd just keep my mouth shut and ease around to the opposite side of my rock if I saw a seven hundred meter space ship come in like a bat out of hell," Captain Frost commented.

"There are a lot of folk sayings and popular wisdom about Sasquatch," Captain Fussy admitted. "One unkind saying is that you shouldn't pick a fight with a Sasquatch because they are too dumb to be afraid. But no race that built starships on their own are stupid. I once was drinking with a mixed group and somebody repeated that slight. The Sasquatch just laughed and informed us they are simply out of practice being afraid, because they killed everything on their planet they needed to be afraid of."

"Was he joking or serious?" Fat asked.

"That's what makes it even funnier," Fussy said, "with a Sasquatch nobody can tell."

"Biter ship is accelerating!" Einstein said, surprised.

"Show the vectors on screen," Chance requested. "Away from us?" he asked, surprised.

"Showing probable course," Einstein updated. "He's going to skim the star and go out the other side hot. I bet he's going for the system the fellow we killed came from, before this one."

"He wouldn't talk to you either," Fat noted, with contempt.

"Well somewhere off in that direction are a lot of Biters. I hope he doesn't bring them all back with him." Chance said.

"Three jumps from that system to a Biter colony world. It doesn't show easily in your chart because it doesn't call out the routes, but it's there," Fussy told them.

"We'll be back in 80 before they can be there. They can bring their whole navy for all I care once we are back with the Retribution and Murphy's Law. Even one of the DSE's could give them a pretty hard time from what I've seen."

"Will the folks here shoot off a drone to system 80 so they'll have word about the big ship before we arrive?" Chance asked Fussy.

"Drones are expensive and nobody here is going to spend that kind of money when I already told them we are headed there. We'll be bringing the news home ourselves."

"How did this system get cataloged as number 82?" Einstein asked. "It seems out of sequence."

"For whatever reason it was bypassed and then somebody backtracked and checked it out later," Fussy told him. "That isn't uncommon. Also, Biters don't really have a navy. Each clan has to buy their own, so very few have several and there are a lot of small clans that will never have the funds to buy and operate a ship. If they want a force of any size they'd have to seek agreement with other clans to join up. Absent a big cash payment they'd have to guarantee there will be loot. They aren't very agreeable, and so far every time they mess with you it has been a dead loss. It should be a hard sell."

"Well this one got away, but with a thirty million kilometer lead and a bit higher velocity it would have been a stretch to run him down. I suspect the big ship decided he couldn't overtake him in this system before he jumped out, or we'd have seen him by now. We'd have had to stick everybody in their bunks on gel bags and sippies. I have no doubt we'd have lost a few crew to the acceleration to catch him. I have to get just one lousy missile externally mounted on the Roadrunner," Chance complained. "The Roadrunner could have run him down, But we need some cheaper, smaller missiles too. It don't make any sense to use a missile on him that's probably worth more than their crappy ship."

Fussy added gel bags and sippies to his search and question list, along with X-head, nuke, yield and Greaser. Surely somewhere in the huge chunk of English web they'd received there were some hints of what those terms meant.

"Persevere, I'm putting a file on your screen. It's a brief summation of our circuit and actions in each system. Transmit it to Gordon first thing as soon as we have entered system 80, just in case we still have somebody looking to prevent us getting back."

"You think an ambush is a possibility? Persevere asked. "Or there might be others overtaking us?"

"Not a very great chance, no. But what were the odds that we'd see a seven hundred meter alien starship? Why risk waiting to pass really critical information a minute longer than necessary?"

And that's why he's captain, Persevere realized again.

* * *

"They not only said you can come down, but that if you want to use your own shuttle that's fine," Talker told Lee. "Have you been lobbying behind my back?" he asked, plainly.

"Not a word," Lee told him. "I don't know anybody down there, to even know whose arm to twist."

"Now there is an image," Talker said of the expression.

"I'm surprised you know what lobbying is. That's very much an Earth expression. They don't lobby on Derfhome, and they call it something else on Fargone."

"It took me awhile to find the term. I'm glad it was correct. What do the Fargoers call it?"

"Bribery."

"Sometimes, I'm not sure when you are serious and when you are making humor," Talker admitted.

"Good, the best humor is ambiguous and the truth if shocking best of all," Lee said.

Talker looked like he wanted to say something, parted his mouth even, slightly, then decided to play it safe. "You are otherwise welcome to take one of our shuttles down if you wish the experience. I spoke to your chief engineer and he said our shuttles are about the same for safety."

"Will you provide an escort then?" Lee asked.

"Me personally?" he asked alarmed.

"Not unless you want to. You can foist it off on some flunky. I just need somebody to tell me not to stand where the streetcar is going to squish me, or that some door is to a private club and not a public business. Those sort of things any Badger would know, but not a crazy alien. The sort of things that 'everybody knows', so there is no sign or tourist guidebook. Surely you can imagine that there might be confusing situations or social norms I shouldn't breach."

Talker sighed. "I shall accompany you. Not even our translators have as broad a picture of your differences and oddities as I've gained from our association."

"I have oddities?"

Talker just looked at her. It was uncomfortably similar to a certain look Gordon gave her.

"Wonderful, go ahead and book us to drop on your shuttle whenever you want. I don't need a private shuttle drop. I can have a kit tossed in a bag in ten minutes. Two changes of clothing and a pair of boots, a towel and wash cloth, a few emergency ration bars and some instant coffee and I'm good to go. Will they get all upset if I go armed?"

"We didn't discuss that, but adults are generally assumed to have the right of self defense. It would be rather pointless bare handed. But I respectfully ask you not look like an invasion force. Surely a simple pistol is sufficient. We don't have a high rate of crime and I won't take you in questionable areas. I'd hope you'll consult with me before you draw a weapon or fire it, unless the local wildlife is already chewing on your leg."

"Wow, that's a really interesting revelation."

"That we have dangerous native animals?"

"No, that you have 'questionable' areas. Look up slum and the wrong side of the street. I had a real education about crappy neighborhoods on Earth and the Moon."

"I will, but I think I know what I'll find."

"Maybe you can take me through a questionable area in an armored ground car with the window tint turned up dark," Lee suggested, excited at the idea.

"You know, the more you talk about it, the less I want to visit Earth."

"Smart Badger! Too many of the crazy locals would regard you as a talking animal. They would probably think you'd make a terrific fur coat."

Talker shuddered ripples running down his sides. He drew his hands down opposite arms, forcing his fur back down. "I value your bluntness, but sometimes you disturb me."

"Hey, I agree. They first time I ever saw taxidermy work it just totally creeped me out."

Talker looked that up on his pad and didn't come back to the conversation right away, horrified.

"I know you've said Humans dream. So do Badgers. Do you sometimes have very bad dreams from seeing something like this that continues to bother you? I might tonight."

"Oh sure, I was once trapped in my sleeping bag with little dinosaurs about a meter and a half tall trying to chew their way in and eat me. I kept shooting through the bag when I'd feel a head pushing at me," Lee said making a gun with her finger and thumb to show Talker what she meant. "The little monsters kept trying to get good grip through the bag. I had so many dead dinos piled on me I started worrying about being crushed. I had bad dreams for months. We call them nightmares."

Talker stared at Lee, horrified. "Now I know I'll have bad dreams tonight. How do you get over such a thing?"

"Sleeping in the arms of a seven hundred kilo killing machine who has vowed to protect you really helps. Time really does heal these sort of problems. Do you have your own private room where you sleep with a door?"

Talker just nodded a yes.

"Well, putting a stack of soda cans, or anything that will make loud noise if disturbed in front of the door and sleeping with a loaded weapon might help tonight. If you are afraid to be alone and feel embarrassed to tell anybody, let me know. I'll come sleep between your bed and the door. Nothing is getting past me unless it can survive thirty big holes blown through it," she said stroking her holster flap.

"I'm emotionally touched that you'd consider doing such a personal thing for me," Talker said.

Lee looked a little put out. "Talker... if you haven't figured it out yet. I consider you a friend."

* * *

"I'm taking Lee down to visit the planet," Talker told Trader that evening.

"Doesn't she understand you are an important executive? It's really a waste of your time and talents when you aren't short of things that need your attention," Trader objected, irritated.

"To quote her, she said I could 'foist it off on a flunky', but I am obligated. She has befriended me."

"I'm not sure what that means with these people. I've observed Humans who consider themselves friends and Derf that proclaim they are friends. I even have a couple Human/Derf combinations that say they are friends, but I'm not sure of the depth. One gambler told me that the surest way to lose friends is to loan them money. So I'm uncertain of the word. It's slippery."

Talker looked sad and didn't answer right away.

"Or are you really saying you have befriended her? I'm much more certain what it means to you."

"Did you ever refuse to go to bed as a child, afraid of monsters?" Talker asked.

Trader looked at him strangely. "As a matter of fact my grandmother told me horrid folk stories about mythological beasts that terrified me. It irritated my father no end. He finger snapped me on the end of my nose and sternly told me to go to bed, right now. I think he told the old woman to stop the scary stories, because she didn't do it again."

"But did you sleep that night?" Talker asked with a smile.

"Not very soon, or well. But it forced me to understand that there weren't any monsters."

"But you see, Lee knows there are monsters." He related the story of the sleeping bag to Trader and Gordon's confirmation of it with added details, as well as her kidnapping on Earth. "Yet when something frightened and disturbed me and I asked how one could deal with bad dreams from it, She didn't tell me to get over it. She offered to sleep on my floor between me and the door, to put herself between me and the monsters. She didn't make fun of my fear or try to tell me there are no monsters. To her experience, the world is full of real monsters and it is perfectly rational to be terrified, but you just keep shooting."

"You are most certainly obligated," Trader agreed. "I had no idea... "

"No offence taken. It's good you understand what we are dealing with in these people. It just seems to get bigger and more complicated all the time."

"The little one is brave," he paused, as if he thought to qualify it further, but decided not to.

"Indeed," Talker agreed.

* * *

"Clear sky," Einstein announced. "Report sent. However the station and world are behind the star for system 80 from us. Assuming our fleet is still sitting there. I'll retransmit as soon as we have a line of sight but somebody insystem should be listening on the station frequency and hear it, just for insurance and posterity."

"No need," Captain Fussy told him from the Dart. "You may assume in any of our well populated stellar systems with a living world we will have repeater buoys positioned about the plane of rotation to relay information to the system scan. You should be able to get a reasonably up to date scan by pinging one of them the same as you would the station. It isn't like system 67 that doesn't produce enough economically or see enough traffic to warrant the expense."

"Thank you, query sent. I'll bring up that scan available on our net as soon as I have a reply if anybody wants to study it. The furthest Badger activity on a dogleg to the opposite side should be about ten hours. The station will only be about six hours out of date now," Einstein commented.

"Overlay our scan data on my screen with our own initial wave front propagating forward with a green line please, Einstein. And add predicted vectors to real time with scaled arrows on each object in motion. It helps me visualize things in a system so crowded and busy. How close are you comfortable going around the star Captain Fussy?"

"I'd rather not go inside the orbit of that little rocky planet you show, if we are decelerating to intercept the station. If you want to volunteer, to let us run tightly in your shadow, then go as close as you please."

"Now that's an interesting idea. I haven't tried that," Chance admitted. "No need to do that today. Persistent is posting our course, outside the planet's orbit as requested, to station rest right now. Sync please, gentlemen."

* * *

The Badger shuttle was comfortable for a Human, and not just a little one. Lee figured it would be usable for even the largest Human. Derf were another matter, unless it had a pressurized cargo hold. Lee was a bit surprised Gordon didn't insist on coming down with her, maybe a little disappointed too. He could still be in command and on top of things with a com pad on his belt. The light speed lag to his ships would never have been more than a few tenths of a second.

She'd have been upset and offended to have pointed out this was normal separation anxiety for a teenager not quite used to being on her own. Not voluntarily at least. Gordon thought it good for her to be away from him a bit on a nice safe, short trip. She'd only be gone a day or two. She'd only packed two changes of clothing.

Talker for all of his name wasn't a big talker on the shuttle. He was right there in the next seat but not as chatty as usual. Lee wondered if he was afraid of small craft? Some people were afraid of flying, whether airplanes or orbitals. Gordon once told her some people have to get blind drunk to trust themselves to a plane, and having a port to see how high they were made it worse, not better. She had a sudden insight and tapped a note in her pad to investigate if there were similarly people afraid to be on a spaceship. It seemed like after a certain distance, when the world was a ball and you couldn't see the terrain below, fear of heights shouldn't apply. To her brain at least it stopped being down and instead seemed more over there. She had over a thousand questions like that in the file to investigate, some day.

Talker looked so unhappy she put her hand on his and gave him a little pat. He looked startled and then happy enough even she could read it on his face. He rolled his hand over and held hers loosely on the armrests between them. He seemed to take comfort from it so she didn't pull her hand back even when she started to cramp up a bit.

They landed in rain which was still a wonder to behold for Lee. It didn't appear to bother the flight crew at all. She'd seen rain a few times in northern Michigan on Earth, but it still amazed her to see it falling from the sky. She hadn't stayed long enough to see snow. Fortunately they walked into the terminal through a sealed walkway and avoided a soaking.

Quite a few Badgers raised their hands in greeting to her and she did it back, until she realized they were just holding a phone or camera up, taking pix of what was a strange sight to them. Talker mercifully didn't comment on her gaffe.

Nobody checked their luggage. Indeed nobody made them stop and provide ID or passports. There was no quarantine and no customs as far as she could tell. They walked to an airdoor with a downdraft strong enough to flutter her clothing and she expected from appearance of the grey sky and rain it would be chilly outside. Instead it was warm and muggy.

A number of people, all Badgers, were getting on something that looked like pictures she'd seen of a trolley car. She watched for Talker to move forward and kept her mouth shut when he didn't. A couple really strange looking ground cars picked up some individual travelers until they were the only two left standing under the extended roof that sheltered the roadway from the rain.

Finally when everything else was gone a large flatbed truck eased forward from the rain and stopped in front of them. She wasn't prepared for something so utilitarian to be their ride, and Talker was three steps ahead of her before she woke up to what was happening and scurried to catch up. The cab was so high above the large knobby tires it took two corrugated metal steps to reach the cab. Two very large steps up for her with no hand hold. Her light bag she tossed up through the door, her smaller heavier bag had to be lifted to each step in turn and then slid into the cab.

The cab had plenty of room for three and luggage. A fourth rider wouldn't have been a hardship. It was slightly cooler, which Lee welcomed. She was starting to get sweaty already.

The driver looked very much like Talker, except he was dressed in a coarse vest, floppy hat and a pair of molded mud boots that came up almost to his knees. She knew they were mud boots because they had a good coating of the stuff, minus the generous amount shed on the floor. It smelled - earthy.

"Do you speak anything I'd know little alien gal?" he inquired.

"I'm learning Trade, but I'm not very good at it yet," Lee admitted. "You can speak to me in trade and what I don't get the translator program in my pad will fill in. Well, mostly."

"Isn't that confusing hearing both conversations at once?"

"Oh no, if it's a word I know it skips translating it. If I tell it I know one it drops it too. Or if I use a word three times correctly it will drop it on its own without being told."

"Three times correctly?" he asked, looking surprised. "You have better computers than us then. I can't trust mine to correct basic grammar, much less trust it to judge usage."

"One more thing to sell you," Lee said sweetly. That seemed to be her answer an awful lot.

"Then you better tell His Excellency the Voice here to give me a raise if I'm to be buying star carried goods. I'm Amiable," he informed her.

"I'm sure you are," Lee agreed, "you been most pleasant so far and kind to pick us up in the rain."

"The translator should have capitalized that and noted it was a proper noun," Talker said.

"Oh, what a sweet name. I'm Lee. I'm afraid my particular group of Humans don't use a lot of names with meanings. Or they have lost their meanings over so many thousands of years that they are lost to common usage. We have quite a few Humans from Fargone in the fleet however, who have marvelous names rich in meaning and the hopes of the parents."

"Amiable's folks probably just wanted a quiet little fellow who wasn't constant trouble like his brother before him," Talker suggested.

"What is this 'His Excellency the Voice' stuff?" Lee asked.

"I've often wondered that myself," Amiable quipped.

"Consider Talker a convenient Trade abbreviation of my full title," he suggested. "Amiable has been with my father three times as long as I've been alive. If he had to address me by my official job title his head would explode. If you say my name with his eyes closed I'm sure he still pictures me as about eight years old. But tell me I'm not doing a decent job old fellow," he challenged.

"The Biters aren't raiding our ships and the strange new aliens haven't rained death and destruction on the planet. So who am I to complain? My concerns are more about the miserable damned burrowers who keep getting in the sweet root crop."

"Don't let him fool you. He has no hesitancy to advise me asked or unasked about matters of import far exceeding crop pests."

"And have I ever told you wrong, my lad?"

Talker turned and regarded him with a piercing gaze that didn't seem to affect him.

"No," he admitted.

"Given your experience, and wisdom of age, what do you make of us strange new aliens? Since you have such an excellent history of good advice I seek your counsel," Lee asked.

"Now see? Why can't you ask all sweet and fancy like that?" Amiable asked Talker first.

"You are the only sample I've seen," he told Lee. "I understand there are two more species. From what I see you aren't put off by an old man in muddy boots and a farm truck instead of a fancy ground car, and you climbed up yourself without standing waiting for somebody to take your bag and hand you up. You were looking all around on the platform like somebody who doesn't like anybody sneaking up on them, and you keep one hand free and handy to your holster. I think you'll do just fine."

"She has befriended me," Talker said simply.

"You could do a lot worse," Amiable assured Lee.

"Where are we going?" Lee asked after a stretch of silence suggested the previous conversation had run its natural course.

"Why, to our home of course. Do you think I'd drop a friend off at a hotel?" Talker objected.

"I didn't know you had a place on this planet. Do you have family too? Do you have room?"

"Enough family you'll probably be confused. Some of us may look very similar to you. Don't be shy to say if you can't place a name with a face tomorrow."

"I have a public eye on," she said, touching a pin they'd taken as fine jewelry. "If it isn't offensive to record for my own use."

"Not for your fleet records?" Talker asked

"No just for me as a memento, and like you mentioned, to help me remember."

"But once you've recorded it who's to say your superior or the head of your fleet won't demand it of you little gal?" Amiable asked cynically.

"There's something you should probably know," Talker told him, voice strained.

"Yeah?"

"Their voyage of exploration is a private undertaking for profit, not under control of any of their various governments. They hauled a couple government spox along, but just as a favor."

"Sounds expensive," Amiable immediately decided.

"Yes, very. Lee owns a two thirds share of the whole venture. She owns three of their six starships outright and financed her share proportionally. I doubt anyone is going to demand anything of her."

Amiable didn't take his eyes off the road. It was obvious the truck was under manual control not any traffic system. He did mutter something the pad couldn't translate at all.

"That wasn't Trade was it?" Lee asked.

"No, it was far more colorful colloquial Badger," Talker admitted. "I'm trying to... do the phrase justice," he said, working his pad. "About the best I can do is – 'Screaming little gods of the Hot Mamas' – but I can't really explain it without some history. I think you impressed Amiable. That isn't easy to do."

Chapter 22

"We have a relayed message from Chance. All three ships are safely returned. He forwards a short summary of actions and says they accomplished their objectives. He plans a leisurely return, wide of the star, at a moderate deceleration. They will be at rest in orbit trailing the station the day after tomorrow about 1000 hours Retribution ship time," Thor informed Gordon. "Sending it to your screen."

"That was brilliant of him to show a mosaic of our different races, minus the Biters," Thor said, after reading awhile. "It had to be done quickly too."

"Agreed, they were down to a couple minutes to compose and transmit it. The fellow shows good command presence. But what a droll sense of humor he displays," Gordon said after reading a bit.

"Yeah? I'm reading it too. What amuses you?" Thor asked.

"How he keeps apologizing for things. Due to over estimating Biter abilities they expended two x-head missiles to destroy a fleet of six vessels. He laments that in hind sight he would have been better off to use one and finish off any survivor with cheaper weapons systems," Gordon said.

"He does have a point," Thor agreed. "We should look into some of the legacy technologies. It's not like we are shooting North American deep space battle platforms. They still had some nice cheap little conventional warhead missiles as recent as twenty or thirty years ago that would work just fine, and we could carry more of them too."

"We'll talk to the New Japanese and the Fargoers about that," Gordon agreed. "The interesting thing I see in this transcript is he told Captain Frost to fight his ship. So it was Frost's decision to fire two missiles, not his, but he takes responsibility for not overriding him."

"I take that as a positive," Thor said. "It is his command ultimately."

"Hmm... He claims to have some insight on generalized psychology of the Bills. Maybe. I can't tell you how many times I thought I'd finally figured Humans out after actually living with them for years. Then they turn around and do things you never expected. Now in middle age I'm starting to doubt I even know Derf."

"That's one of the things I like about you Gordon, your humility."

* * *

Talker's home was on a hill with a wonderful view of their farm operations below, laid out in neat squares and rectangles. There were modern looking barns and building down there in the flat valley, but the home itself was a castle. There was a residence with windows to look down at their holdings, but they had to look over a stout wall that ringed the hill. They went in a serious gate then had to make a sharp turn and pass another gate.

"This is a nice big farm," Lee said. "It reminds me of the Red Tree Keep Gordon took me home to on Derfhome. Theirs is built back into a hill and dug way down deep in it instead of sticking up, but you guys both have obvious issues with physical security. Do you name your holdings?"

"Yes, it would translate pretty much as Safe Haven. Our family could never have had anything like this on the Badger home world," Talker explained. "That's why my father came out to Far Away. Land was available much cheaper if you got in early, and he did. My eldest brother will inherit this. We don't break a property up and turn it into a bunch of minor holdings for inheritance. That's a road to poverty. Pretty soon the small parcels are sold off and gone."

"I bet it drives the younger ones to explore and seek their own place too," Lee noted. "Or you'd all be back home on a city house sized lot."

"Where they wouldn't need me, so me and mine would likely be stuck forever being poor," Amiable said. "Do you have such folk on any of your worlds?"

"We do. I lived with such a family for some months. I'll tell you the story sometime if you like."

"I'd be happy of any tale with which you wish to gift me."

"He has a few of his own," Talker warned her.

The truck was parked in a row of assorted vehicles, a couple of which were nice ground cars.

"Was it a test of my attitude to come pick us up in the truck, instead of a car?"

"No Missy. It was running short on time. If I took the time to clean the field grime off to drive one of the nicely carpeted and upholstered cars you'd have been standing waiting a lot longer. Are you used to people testing you like that?"

"A little bit, yeah. That makes me want to know how I need to act when we go in here. When I met Gordon's family he didn't coach me at all and just let me do what came natural. I don't want to start off here stepping on any toes."

"Another wonderfully visual phrase," Talker noted. "My father will greet you, as hospitality is his to offer or not. Had I any doubt he'd welcome you I wouldn't have brought you. He may embrace you. I hope that doesn't offend or worry you?"

"Heck no, if anything I'm under-hugged," Lee complained.

Amiable marched off without any leave taking, probably back to his mud. Talker took her small bag and headed in the front door without explanation.

"What do you have in here, rocks?" Talker complained.

"Money," Lee told him. "I thought maybe I'd get a chance to go shopping."

"The servants will put it in your room," he said, and left it inside the door.

The entry was unguarded in contrast to the Red Tree Keep. Lee remembered William guarding the entry with a pang of nostalgia and regret. The wide hall inside the doors ran straight all the way to a back door. It had to be over a hundred meters long. Open three stories high, it had balconies inside and stairs to them at both ends. Once again it was cooler than outside but not really chilled like a Human building would be. Talker led them to about the halfway point and turned left through open double doors. Instead of a huge open hall with rafters above the Badger main room like a Derf Keep, it reminded her of something else, the hotel lobby where she'd been assaulted on Earth. The lighting was a bit more subdued than she'd chose. There were large comfortable chairs and couches in groups all around, with plants and a small fountain. To one side was a huge screen with nothing displayed right now. Most notable was that it wasn't laid out symmetrically. You would have to meander around things to get to the rear of the room. Talker took her hand before working his way through the room.

In the far corner was a desk with a Badger working at it, head down. How odd not to have a private office, Lee thought. Even the Mothers kept a private office where they could conduct confidential business, even if they sat court most of the day in the great room.

There was a space around the desk and associated pieces of about three meters however, marking it off as special. There was a sofa, big enough for three, facing the desk closely and two arm chairs to one side angled toward each other.

The Badger didn't rise until they entered the open perimeter. The carpet was different around the desk too, Lee noticed, marking it off. Then he looked up and froze for a second. Lee was sure he looked at their clasped hands. Was that a problem? Talker dropped her hand and stepped forward. Father and son hugged and held each other, talking for a bit before stepping back. Talker turned back to Lee still holding his father's hand.

"Most here would address my father as Lord, but you are not of his household. I told him you are a person of substance so he invites you to address him as 'Goy', which I'd translate as fellow. It indicates a similar status, but it says nothing about larger or smaller, or older or newer, both of which matter in our society."

"I'm touched, but uncomfortable. I am much younger and less experienced, and I have ships and vast tracts of land, but I have yet to build a home on them where I could return his hospitality properly. What can I add as a mark of respect to honor him?"

"He speaks Trade. Father, I should tell you, Lee has formally befriended me."

"Ahh..." That was obviously significant to him. "In what way did she make this bond?" his father asked. He tilted his head and regarded his son intensely. Lee could see now he had white flecks in his fur all down his muzzle.

"She offered to lay before my door to protect me with her body as I slept, without condition, and only expressed that it was a pact of friendship after. I'm afraid she was irritated with me that she had to explain why, feeling the act should define the relationship without naming it."

Lee noticed he asked how she made the bond, not how she expressed it.

"She has a point," he agreed. "Did the Traveler and the Farmer stand and swear friendship or just do it?" he asked.

"He refers to an ancient play," Talker said. "My father is the victim of a classical education I'm afraid, which he inflicted on me in turn."

"And it seems to have served you well despite your cynicism. Starships and computers are all fine and good and serve us well, but people remain the same, and studying their character good or bad will never go out of style. If it pleases you little female you may call me Par Goy, which is Dear Fellow, if that is not too intimate for you. It suggests you are a concern of the household. By my word you have a place at our table and may seek our door as long as you are bound to my son."

"That sounds nice. I have no door of my own, but you are welcome on my lands any time you wish, and I have leave by the Mothers of Red Tree Clan to offer hospitality at their keep by my name and invite you to use that should you chose to visit Derfhome. I am 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."

"Well that's a mouthful isn't it?" Par Goy asked, amused. "I accept your offer. Derf have short and long haired folk too?"

"Not as extreme as us," Talker told him. "I saw pictures and what they call long haired just looks like someone in winter coat. They have dark, what they call cinnamon, and light that is almost blond."

"Well I'm pleased to meet you Lee." He held out his arms in obvious invitation, and she stepped in and hugged him. He was taller and she turned her head on his shoulder. He brought his chin down over her head and held her firmly.

"You smell good," Lee decided.

"Ha! I was sipping a spicy sweet liqueur when you came in. I probably reek of it. Do you think you can try a little safely?" he asked, holding her away by the shoulders double handed.

"The sweet part is safe, and so far all the distilled things have been safe. Let me try just a drop on my tongue, and if I don't swell up and get covered in hives after a few minutes we should be good."

"Sit," he said, leading her to the sofa by the hand. "We'll talk a bit and supper should be nearly ready by then, unless you want to go lay down a bit? Are you are tired from your trip?"

"I've traveled in a lot worse. I've been in Human buses for days, Derf mail trucks and Earth Human police vans. Amiable in a farm truck with a view out the front was a treat, even if I don't think that was all mud on his boots."

"He didn't?" Par Goy asked Talker, horrified.

"He said he'd be late if he'd stopped to clean up," Talker said with a shrug.

It was interesting. Badgers roll their eyes too.

* * *

"Entry radiation behind us," Einstein called out on the open command circuit. "Quite deep. It may have been on a line where we entered or a very close vector."

"If it's Biters chasing us it's too late," Frost said. "We'll be docked or near the rest of the fleet before they can catch up. We'll see if they get in our face again and tell us to stand too. I'd love to see what it would do to a Biter ship to run the Retribution's or Murphy's Law radar at max power focused on them."

"Does roast Biter taste like chicken?" Fat Ortega asked.

"Probably. Everything else seems to," Chance agreed. "Let me know if we get a message, but watch the relay buoys, to see if they talk to the station in the clear too, " he ordered.

* * *

Dinner was across the big hall in a much smaller room than the one where Lee met Par Goy. There were about two dozen family members and introductions were deferred until after dinner. There had been more than 'a bit' of a wait until dinner, they'd talked a couple hours. She was hungry, but just a little buzzed. The sweet liqueur was strong and reminded her of both ginger and cloves. She had to remember to note them both on her pad as something the Badgers might appreciate.

Dinner for Lee was a bland grain that was similar to rice or barley, with a syrup on it that Talker assured her was also tested. She added her own coffee which Par Goy tried, and like Talker preferred it with a little syrup in it. The coffee helped clear her head. She had an almond and toffee ration bar and a peanut and chocolate one break the monotony of the bland grain. By the time she got back to the High Hopes she'd be sick of sweet stuff.

They went back across the hall after dinner and sat in a circle of chairs and couches across the room from the big screen. There was a stub wall between their grouping and the screen and the sound was a discrete murmur. She found out all the children ate separately and those over a certain age joined their elders after dinner. Most of them went to the far screen but a few were interested in the strange guest seated between Talker and Par Goy. Most stood back and tucked their hands together and gave a little bow on being introduced, a few left to join their peers at the screen after their curiosity was satisfied, but one marched right up and held her arms out to be hugged.

Sitting down was just the right height to be head to head to the little one and she scooted forward and hugged her. Rubbing her head against her muzzle which she liked, lifting it over lee's shoulder and hugging harder. After a good long hug, and the kid was strong, Lee dropped her arms down waist high, although Badgers didn't have much of a waist, but didn't let her go.

"How old are you Tish?"

"I'm nine years old. I'm going to go on ships like you when I'm older."

"Good for you. I like ships."

"You must! My mother told me you own three."

"I do. But they are very expensive, and you have to use them to make them pay for themselves. Planets can be very pretty too. What would be the point of ships if we didn't have planets to go to?"

"I hadn't thought about it that way," Tish admitted. She thought about it a bit, curling her muzzle up. "This is a piece of our planet," she said pulling out a big pebble. Daddy says it is an agate. I found it on the beach and kept it to remember our trip to the sea. You can keep it now to remember our planet and me. It's much prettier when it's wet."

"Thank you," Lee said taking the translucent stone. It was swirled with red and yellow bands on top of crème color. "I'll give you two gifts. This is a necklace from Earth," Lee took off her Byzantine necklace double handed and put it over the girl's head. She'd found it was bringing up unpleasant memories every time she contemplated it, yet she still admired the workmanship and hated to just scrap it. "You can remember me by it. My other gift is that you may demand a ride on any of my ships that call when you are old enough to be away from home alone."

With Lee's hands free again Tish grabbed both of them in her hands.

"Wow, thank you. But that's going to be a long time." She was obviously ready to go right now.

"I'm sure it will be, but you have to know all kinds of things to go on ships," she said reasonably.

"Then I'll learn," she said, stepping back and doing the little hand clasp and bow the others had done from afar. Lee didn't clasp her hands but she returned the little bow.

"You don't have to return a bow to a young one," Talker told her.

"That's in case I'm not around when she's old enough," Lee said.

"You're as bad as Amiable," he said.

"Thank you."

"The chain is beautiful work," Par Goy said. "What do you call it?"

"It's made in the style of the Byzantines," Lee told him. "I saw it on Earth and liked it. I was ready to pass it on."

"These Byzantines are a nation on Earth?"

"They were a culture over a region of Earth some millennia ago. We have nations come and go but we try to save what is good when we can, including the art forms."

"That is wildly inappropriate for a small child, but only by custom, not law. I doubt we'll ever pry it off her. She'd yell thief and take me to court before she'd yield it."

"A nine-year-old could take her lord to court?" Lee asked.

"Her lord and grandfather. She's a willful child, just like her father, and I fear she'd prevail, because the head judge who sits here is a frosty old woman who is unimpressed with privilege and custom. She'd probably award her punitive damages to teach me not to test her again. She's been known to strip a lord of a tenth of his estate as punishment when he was spectacularly wrong. I've stood before her on two occasions, but I was very, very careful to make sure I was in the right and not just full of myself before I presented a case."

"I think I like how you do things here," Lee told him.

"Does the necklace need any care not to damage it or to keep it from corrosion?" Talker asked.

"I once had a male Human about three times my size try to yank it off my neck to steal it. He practically lifted me by it and it doesn't seem any worse for the wear," she informed him.

"What happened to him?" Talker asked, wide eyed.

"He had a... mishap. He, uh, slipped and fell, totally blew out a knee and hit the floor face first so hard he busted his facial bones. He was knocked out, concussed, and couldn't remember any of it later." Lee was gaining maturity and control under Gordon's tutelage, but she still let her face slip for an instant remembering, with a small toothy smile that was chillingly inappropriate to the story.

"How unlucky," Par Goy said, without a trace of sincerity or belief.

"Some people are just clumsy," she said with a shrug. "The necklace is platinum and gold, so I don't think you need worry about it tarnishing."

Talker muttered something in Badger darkly, shaking his head.

"Isn't that what Amiable said earlier?" Lee asked, suspiciously.

"You should know, Tish is Talker's daughter," Par Goy said. He was entirely too amused.

* * *

"This is bizarre, the Biters are asking asylum if I understand this correctly. They say some crazy people from another clan fired on a huge ship that showed up at their second colony world. It pulled up next to their station as bold as can be. They can't talk to them at all to make them understand it wasn't their clan shooting at them," Captain Frost said reading Einstein's net post. "The large ships have shot back at Biter ships, apparently much more efficiently than their attackers, and what really has them upset is they snatched a couple ships and made off with them."

"Well of course. What do you do if a ship four times as big as any you've ever seen stops to say hello? You just automatically shoot at him if you are a Biter," Fussy said.

"Apparently the ship leaked ammonia when they shot it. They are appealing to us as fellow oxygen breathers," Chance said. "I think that's a bit much to assume. They might have hit some system that uses ammonia. It could be a refrigerant or any number of uses rather than crew environment. "

"I'd be much more impressed if they could plead their case based on courtesy instead of what they breath. I don't care if they breath chicken soup if they have some manners, but wait... we're talking about Biters aren't we?" Fat Ortega growled.

"Snatched how?" Lord Byron asked. "Are they so big they stuffed them in a hold?"

"It doesn't say. I'm having trouble dredging up much sympathy," Chance admitted.

* * *

"My sons are not going to be happy that their little sister was the one who got the gifts and the attention," Talker told her.

"How old are they," Lee wondered.

"Twelve and fifteen."

"Where were they when Tish was throwing herself in my arms?"

"Watching stickball on the screen," Talker admitted. "It was a big game today."

"Sure was, game on hard, across the room. She won't ever be the heir will she? Assuming you had an estate to pass on like your father."

"Some Badgers would take offence at that, as a dig on not being the first son. I'm not sensitive about it and don't think you meant it unkindly but be aware. But you are asking about being an heir for the land? Not unless every male cousin was dead and she was the last choice to keep it in the family. She can own her personal property like the necklace. In fact it would be easier for her to own ships than land. Except, if she were a city Badger. She could own lots and buildings and businesses in town. That's been different as long as I am aware of, far back in our history."

"That stinks. She is wasted on you people," she told him.

"That hurts."

"The more for being true," she said not backing down a millimeter.

"I hope to someday do just the same as my father and go to a new world and establish an estate for myself. Even if I expressed it as my will to leave an estate to her, my society would never allow it."

"I may gift her an estate from one of my plots on Providence." Lee told him. "Not my main valley I'm going to keep for myself, but I have several others. She wouldn't be bound by Badger law or custom there. I wouldn't worry about her actually. I think she'll do just fine even without my help or yours. But I think she'd make a good neighbor."

"I thought we were going to have an exclusion zone where we don't make claims in a cone off towards your worlds?"

"Claims? No. But most places anybody can buy land, and I can give what's mine to anybody I please. Don't you folks buy and sell real estate?"

"In the cities, but the countryside is almost all in large estates that are very hard to break up, on purpose. It takes a catastrophe to remove an estate from ownership. Some severe genetic fault in the bloodline, or in the past some plague or natural disaster. There is almost always intense pressure for the cities to expand and when an estate does open up to add on to a city the parcels sell for ridiculous prices. What good would land do Tish? She still needs a husband, or is she going to live away from Badger society?"

"I don't know. I'm pretty happy without most of Human society. Last time I enjoyed the pleasure of Human society they called my father an animal and a furry freak and locked me up. Do you really think that if she had a big tract of fine land and the wealth and income from it the fourth or fifth son of some fine Badger family wouldn't look at that and decide it would be a comfortable life being her husband and never mind it was under some alien law where he might have to leave some things to a daughter?"

"I'm a third son, so I understand the frustration of never being heir. I've done pretty well by myself, but yeah, I can see some fellow who will never have the funds or connections to get an estate on a new world being very happy with a rich wife and damn the inheritance laws," he agreed.

"Talker, be honest with me. How often do second or third sons murder their brother to get the estate?"

"Probably less than you think. I know of only three instances in the last hundred years, and one of those he was declared innocent because he had cause."

"What sort of cause? Self defense? Lee asked.

"No, he showed in court his elder brother was mentally defective. He was just plain stupid, unable to run the estate and he wouldn't take advice of either his brother or his hired men. His tutors testified he was innumerate, and he could barely read simple things. He was giving crazy orders to plant things unsuited to their climate and spending money they weren't earning. It was going to dissolve the estate as a functioning business in another season or two."

"There is no way in your law to have him declared incompetent and a guardian appointed?"

"None, it's too readily subject to abuse. It's much easier to attack with a lawyer and a pliable judge to gain control of an estate than to shoot the idiot dead."

"Well, I liked some of your law. I guess I can't expect all of it to please me."

"Why do I have this horrible feeling you will make it a project to change any of the parts that displease you?" Talker asked.

"Not for awhile," Lee promised. "I'm sort of busy right now chipping the rough spots off Derf society and redefining the relationship of the Mothers and town people."

"Are they aware of this?"

"Some," Lee admitted, "especially my bank. I'm not around when I'm off like this, so they are using my money to quietly bankroll cultural subversion. Nothing illegal or violent, just a little assistance to people doing the things we want encouraged. If somebody needs a little money to go to school or start a business the bank can give them support and no need to say why they are treating them so well. A few of them were already basically working on it themselves, but they have my leave to fund little things that help at a higher level. It's not like I'll miss a few million here and there and won't be able to buy lunch tomorrow."

"You are a very dangerous person," Talker told her. "You'd upset ways of doing things that are stable and have worked for a long time."

"Worked for you. Did you not just tell me it fails sometimes to the point somebody has to be killed to repair its failure? I doubt Tish would tell you it's a wonderful system if she is tossed aside like a piece of trash for some distant cousin who was lucky enough to be born male. I did get just a hint there when you said you didn't have any choice to favor Tish that maybe you'd want to. I don't object to how Tish would be treated with any prejudice against Badgers. My mom taught me that Human societies who threw away half the resources of their culture by not valuing their women stagnated and declined too."

"She's my daughter. Of course I'd favor her some way if I could. Maybe not over her brothers. I'm not sure I'm ready to be that radical. But right now Badgers have one big winner per family, and everybody else is pretty much out of luck. I don't have it in me to challenge the whole system," Talker admitted. "I'm just glad we have our one winner instead of being like Amiable, from a family that lost all their land and status and has had to work for others for three generations."

Lee nodded, deep in thought. "OK, I see several problems. It's complicated. I need to study it quite a bit and talk to people. It may takes years just to figure out what to do. And it has to be a solution that uplifts everybody," she decided, "not just changes the winners. I don't think I can even expect to see it happen in my lifetime, but maybe I can get the ball rolling."

"You are what, fourteen years old?"

"Closer to fifteen," Lee objected.

"And as young as you are you can think of starting changes you won't be alive to see?"

"Well sure. We're seeding water worlds and Terraforming them, that won't see a Human able to walk around without a breather mask for hundreds of years. "I'll be buying into a few of those too."

"That is a noble cause," Talker had to admit.

"I mean you no harm at all," Lee assured him. "People are often their own worst enemies. It can take a view from the outside to see what's wrong sometimes."

"That's a very presumptuous attitude. Give me an example of somebody who needs rescuing from themselves," Talker challenged her.

"The Biters. They could play at all that haughty aggression when they kept it at home, but Gordon isn't going to put up with it, and I suspect if we hadn't come along you folks would have got fed up with it and decided to spend the blood and money to put them in their place, eventually."

"That is something our governments were discussing," Talker revealed. "It was going to be expensive."

"Our technology will trim the bill some," Lee predicted, "if not the cost in money at least the butcher's bill."

Talker looked at his pad. "That's been our government's biggest tax, the service of extra sons. Butcher's bill... What a fascinating horrible language you have."

* * *

"Entry radiation, same rough direction as the Biters came in," Einstein noted. "This is on the system scan relay Fussy showed us."

"Big sucker," Fat noted. "Bigger than the other ship we saw maybe. Who do you think that is?"

"Somebody the Biters won't be happy to see," Chance predicted.

"Station refuses docking to the Biter vessels. Told them not to bring their troubles here," Einstein read off scan.

"Good for them. I'm not sure how that will stop them, but nice to see a little backbone," Frost said.

"Gordon, Chance here. We were going to assume a similar parking pattern to when we left. Dart going wherever he pleases of course. We are about an hour out. Do you wish us to make any adjustments to that plan?" he asked.

"Nope, if that entry burst is one of the big boys you saw then nothing we have could beat it to jump from orbit here. Running just looks bad, like we are guilty of something. Let's wait and see what they want. If it's the Biters they are welcome to them. If they want to touch one of ours we'll see if that big a ship can eat a dozen X-heads all at once. That big a target, how the hell could we miss?"

"You people are insane! With all due respect Sir... "

"What are the alternatives Fussy? We can't talk. We can't run. Might as well be crazy."

"My pardon Sir. I have no missiles so I should stay silent. Who knows? Maybe I wouldn't be afraid to shoot at a ship that big if I had some."

"Without going into too much detail, Fussy. If I could get twelve weapons on that target I might be able to vaporize it completely despite the size and not leave anything but the grit that condenses back out of the plasma ball."

"I believe you. I'd rather not see it happen if we can avoid it."

"We'll try to avoid it. I never even wanted to shoot any Biters, and they keep making that a harder attitude to retain all the time."

* * *

"We have a little situation here," Gordon told Lee. "The Badgers are going to suspend shuttle flights in a few hours. You read the after action report Chance sent in when he reentered the system yesterday?"

"Yes, I thought he did well. I took his apologizing as tongue in cheek. He might need to stop doing that with a different commander though. Another commander might think he lacks confidence. I just take it as a sign he is so confident he isn't afraid to criticize himself in after-action, and a little black humor perhaps," Lee said.

"I will probably warn him about the dangers of too honest a self appraisal sometime, after enough time has passed to soften it a little. But it looks like we have a system entry of one of those big ships he saw. Possibly chasing some Biters. Any sort of movement might be upsetting to those folks, we have no idea what they are like. That's why the Badgers are grounding the shuttles. I agree with that. I don't want ours flying either. I'd be just as happy for you to stay down there another day or two. It's probably safer down there on the planet too."

"It's pleasant here. That's no burden. I can wash a change of clothes. Can I still get the data stream? I haven't been following it, but nothing has been happening. If you have a bigger ship than I've ever seen maneuvering up there I'd love to follow the action."

"You can't see much on a com pad. But yeah I'm not shutting down our local net."

"I have my spex with me. I'll go off to a dark room somewhere and see it just fine."

"That's fine. You can even talk to me, just don't distract me if things go all hairy."

"I wouldn't think of it. Just be careful, OK?"

"As much as I can, yeah. Love you too," he replied to the real implied message. "Out."

Lee walked in the other room. "Talker, I was wrong. It looks like the Biters may have bit off more than they can chew without either of us needing to rein them in."

He lifted his muzzle from his screen, interested, then frowned and looked at it again. "This is a reference to horses? Does anyone ever finish learning this language?"

"Honestly no, I don't think so, if that's a serious question. There are antiquated forms, regional dialects, and all the technical jargon of a hundred thousand professions. You could probably spend a month just learning all the terms they use to describe sailboats and seamanship. Some of which we still use for starships."

"I was afraid of that... "

Chapter 23

"If I've fulfilled my duty I'd like to be released," Captain Fussy of the Dart requested. The Dart, Sharp Claws and Roadrunner were all back at rest with respect to the station and their other ships again.

"I'm done with you and satisfied, thank you," Chance said on the command channel. "Gordon should release you though."

"Thank you for your service. I'll ask through your command if we need you again. Are you going to stand off?" Gordon asked.

"No actually I'm going to dock," Fussy told him. "As you said. We can't run and we can't talk. If they are the sort to fire on an unarmed civilian station I guess we're all screwed."

"We won't initiate it," Gordon promised.

"I had no thought you would. We haven't seen your fleet be the aggressor once. By your leave, we are proceeding to dock."

"Have a cold one for me," Gordon said. If Fussy didn't understand that he could ask the software.

"The one Biter coming in insists he is going to dock," Captain Frost noted, monitoring station com. "They told him plainly they can't stop him from grappling the collar, but the dock doors are hardware locked from the inside and won't open to their air lock."

"OK, station scan has detail on the big entry," Gordon announced. "Another one of those seven hundred meter ships. Those must be their scouts or destroyers. The two behind it are twelve hundred meters long. Impressive isn't it?"

"I can't imagine why you'd need a ship that big," Lord Byron complained. "Nobody is going to do bulk hauling between stars. I don't think it could ever be made cheap enough."

"Bocce ball court off the ward room mess?" Fat Ortega quipped.

"Swimming pool on 'C' deck?" Chance added quickly.

"Think big," Parsimony Cho challenged them. "Polo fields in the middecks," he suggested. "And of course that means you need stables."

"I'd like that," Thor agreed. "When I ran out of filter duty I could assign mucking out the stalls."

"I'm sure our Commander Gordon is already thinking how he might steal one," the usually quiet Captain Priceless Fenton told them from The Champion William. That was super chatty for him.

"Perhaps just borrow one," Gordon allowed modestly.

"System scan indicates they are skimming the star much closer than I'd ever care to at a sedate ten g. My system reports the numbers faithfully but tags them with an error message because it doesn't believe the numbers," Einstein reported. "We have to modify the code."

"Their course and acceleration extrapolated indicates they intend to come to rest here or make a very slow pass, which is interesting because they set the course when they were blind behind the star. That means they know what is here on the other side of the star. Could they have put a drone in without making enough entry radiation to call attention to it or have some other way of spying on us? I'm not at all sure they can interpret system scan yet," Gordon said.

"Perhaps they are masters of the miniature as well as the colossal," Frost speculated. "They may have tiny stealthy jump drones we can't see."

"That's a possibility," Gordon acknowledged. "When they are a half hour out I want everybody at battle stations and damage control positions. All crew will be in suits with helmets on, even off duty in their bunks. Brownie will assign fleet targets as I direct and if we are fired upon we shall return fire on the offender with every missile we have in a tube. Greasers and peashooters will cover the pause while missile tubes are reloaded. Are there any questions?"

"Do you intend to reply to them if they fire upon the station or Badger ships?" Lord Byron asked.

"No. They have not asked for a pact of mutual defense with us or with our nations. Perhaps because they don't have the means to hold up their end, but who knows why, really? The Dart was under our protection, but he is dismissed now. I will not risk our civilian ships and people without being offered a signed on paper wet ink treaty, with spelled out terms and obligations, and I might not take one offered even at our governments' urging if I don't really like the terms."

"Do you intend to object if they fire upon the Biters?" Ho'omanawanui on the Sharp Claws asked.

"Hell no... I may give them supporting fire as needed," Gordon made clear. "Unless they take out a big bite of station where that idiot Biter insists he'll dock. They need to know to talk and understand what's happening before they use weapons indiscriminately. It looks like they had the brains to do that with Chance's group. At least one of their commanders did when he fail-safed his missiles. Any reasonable intelligence should not assume alliance based on simple physical proximity. Life is complicated and you don't use a nuke and then say oops."

"Tell the North Americans," Thor said drolly. Remember how they shot each other up at Fargone?"

"As I said... Any reasonable intelligence," Gordon repeated, but it was humor, not a reproof.

"The Biter is making their usual hotshot approach to the station," Einstein noted.

"That would be sufficient for me to ban them permanently if I ran the place," Gordon said.

"Ah, the alien ships are hailing us from way out. Perhaps that indicates a little caution seeing a station and this many ships? Is that a match for their previous transmissions?" Gordon asked.

"The first couple seconds, then it diverges," Einstein said.

"Be prepared to transmit images similar to what Captain Chance used with them before. I may want to send video off the bridge." Gordon thought on some of Lee's recent advice. "Have Ha-bob-bob-brie report to the bridge right now. Tell him not to waste time cleaning up or anything, just move it."

"His supervisor says he's on the way," Brownie reported.

"Well we don't want to seem standoffish. Transmit this back to them with my image in video," Gordon checked to make sure he had a decent head and shoulders view in his console camera before speaking. 'Hello big boy, I doubt you can understand this but maybe in a few days or a few years you'll translate it. We assume you are chasing Biters. 'Gods only know what the idiots have done to you but that's not our concern. I'd like to get along with you, but if you touch one of my ships I'll ram a nuke up your butt and ruin your day so fast you won't know what happened. I hope that doesn't happen.' Send them a composite image of our ships and Humans, Derf and Hinth together."

"Sent," Brownie confirmed. It took less than a minute for him to add the images.

The next transmission had no audio. It just showed the Dart, Roadrunner, and Sharp Claws together in formation.

"He's asking why we didn't include the Dart because he's seen them together." Einstein suggested.

"Probably, and it’s a reasonable question. Send a picture of the Dart and a Badger," Gordon said. It was soon on its way. There was still enough light lag to make waiting uncomfortable.

The mosaic of both groups of species Chance sent from his little task force in the far system came back, with one disturbing addition. An image of a Biter was added. Not any image they had sent, and the Biter looked a bit rough, beak hanging open eyes vacant. Gordon would guess he was dead.

"Send the same matrix back with the image of the Biter blacked out. Then send a copy of the star chart the Badgers gave us with their races around it, but be sure not to add the Biters or their worlds we had added after the original chart. Make very sure of that," Gordon repeated.

The image of them all with the Biters included came back again.

"Just repeat the mosaic with blanked out Biter."

A fair line drawing of a flat plate station came back with a Biter ship hanging on the edge.

"Well that's as clear an accusation as I've ever seen. Why is he docked on your station if he isn't part of your group?" Thor translated. "Kind of hard to answer."

"Look on the partial web we carry. Find a picture of a big stout door with a locking bar dropped across it, holding it shut," Gordon ordered. "Do a search for similar terms and images too."

"I have several," Brownie offered, putting them on his screen. "That's brilliant," he added.

"Hell, send all of them," Gordon ordered, ignoring the compliment.

One was a picture of a Derf keep door, with a massive wooden beam in iron brackets securing it, another was an old woodprint of large plank door with a wagon overturned against it and all sorts of barrels and beams and furniture piled in a heap to block it, backed by men with edged weapons. There was an old ad from Earth for a telescoping lock pole that braced under the door knob, and a picture of a road with two main battle tanks pulled across it at an angle to each other. blocking the way with armed men behind them.

Another old drawing showed a stagecoach stopped before a tree cut down across the road. A photo showed a long line of people waiting to get in a club and a padded red velvet ropes strung between chromed theatre stanchions blocking the entry. One bouncer was holding an unfastened rope out of the way to let two people in and the other bouncer was holding his palm up denying the next couple entry. An old picture showed a long line of antique ground cars stopped before a raised drawbridge with a ship going through.

Just to top it all off they ended with a video showing a main entry through the blocky barbican on the face of a castle. First the massive oak and ironwork portcullis comes crashing down sealing the entry and then the draw bridge swiveled up covering it.

"If they can't figure it out from all of that they don't have anything in common with us," Gordon predicted. "They'd have to not use doors and I know damn well they have airlocks."

They didn't respond, so either that answered their question or confused them beyond any reply.

Ha-bob-bob-brie arrived in a maintenance jumpsuit that had seen some serious use, liberally coated with several lubricants and metal shavings.

"My daughter thinks you are underutilized, and upon consideration I decided she is right. Will you accept an immediate promotion to bridge crew, details of your training and duties to be worked out after the crisis we have on our plates right now is resolved?"

"I serve at your pleasure, here or cleaning slops," Ha-bob-bob-brie said. "Tell me what to do."

"Good man. For now strap in the number two com console, observe and keep quiet unless you see us doing something stupid," Gordon ordered. Ha-bob-bob-brie strapped in and reconfigured the couch.

The relatively smaller alien ship stopped and took up station trailing the Badger's space station in orbit, using some radar but nothing high powered or aggressive. The two larger ships caught up with one staying back by the smaller ship and the other inching forward slowly. They transmitted again directing it literally as a beam at the Biter ship that hadn't docked. There was plenty of back-scatter leakage to listen in. When there was no response they inched closer and repeated the same message.

Up close there was texture to their hull. It appeared metallic but more burnished than polished. There were lots of things mounted externally both large and small, but no lights and not as cluttered as the hull of the Retribution.

"You're getting this all on video aren't you?" Gordon asked. Confirmation came from Brownie and Einstein, as well as others.

The Biter ship broke orbit and started away at a bit over a g. Eight flat robotic drones like flying carpets flashed out from the big ship. Less than a meter thick, they were too small to be manned and too quick for the Biter to evade them. They attached themselves flat to the Biter hull and forced it back to the large ship despite the flare of their drive showing that they were resisting. A hatch several times longer than the Biter ship opened on a dark dock or hold and they were forced relentlessly into the black maw. They finally gave up and shut down their drive before they disappeared inside. The huge hatch slid shut on them. As soon as it was closed the big vessel left, briskly.

"Bon Voyage," Thor said sarcastically.

"I bet those things would be handy to push small asteroids around," Frost said.

The other huge vessel inched forward and stopped. They transmitted another burst of what had to be speech. But it was still incomprehensible. Then they waited silently for several minutes. When there was no response they eased over slowly toward The Champion William. A similar hatch opened up like the other ship had entered but the hold on this one was illuminated in a pink glow instead of dark. They transmitted again and waited. Finally just two of the flat drones flew to The Champion William and attached much slower than they had to the Biter ship.

"Uh oh... " Gordon said.

"We couldn't hear or feel them make contact," Captain Priceless Fenton informed them calmly on the local net. "I do not see this as an hostile act yet. They are acting with much more restraint than they did with the Biters. Please do not act rashly for us until we see what their intentions are more clearly."

After a pause the drones gave the DSE a tiny nudge. Starting her drifting toward the hold.

"I'm going to use the maneuvering jets just enough to bring us to rest, not pull away, and see how they respond to that," Priceless informed them.

The Champion William stopped motion, hanging beside the huge ship. After a couple minutes they repeated the unintelligible gobble and nudged them gently toward the hold again.

"I'm stopping again to see if they force it," Priceless said. Once again they stopped and hung there motionless.

"They can undoubtedly hear us speaking. I'm seeing this as an invitation not a kidnapping. I'm asking permission to enter the hold under my own power before they act to push me in again. I believe we may have an opportunity to establish real contact and communications here."

"Permission granted," Gordon told him. "I see it the same way, but you are the ones taking all the risk."

"Helmsman, move us toward the hold at about the same velocity the drones were moving us," They heard Captain Fenton order, leaving his mic open. They started a slow drift and the drones released from their hull, flashing away into the hold they were approaching.

"I hope to see you all again soon. Thank you for allowing this experiment, Gordon." Then the hatch slid shut and the data link was gone. The vessel didn't hang around to talk further, hurrying after its mate. The smaller ship hanging back cut straight through the middle of them after its larger companions.

"They should have named him Fearless instead of Priceless," Thor commented.

"The aliens are pretty damn brave too," Gordon told him.

"How so?" Thor asked, visibly uncertain what he meant.

"He just took an armed ship into the guts of that thing. I have no idea what they build their hull from or how they line their shuttle dock or whatever he's in. But I have a hard time believing that it wouldn't be a major problem for them if Priceless detonated all three hot to launch X-heads he carries inside their ship. Beside the explosion itself the primary beam is still generated even if you don't program the secondary beams. And being inside them they'd get the back end of the primary beam that is usually wasted. At least I've never heard of anybody slick enough to position an X-head precisely between two targets to use the back beam too."

"Yeah, that would probably leave a mark," Thor acknowledged.

* * *

"Are you sick? Do you have a headache?" Tish asked concerned.

Lee hadn't heard her come in. The room was dark, the only light in the library spilling in from the open door to the hallway. The carpet was thick and that muffled her steps too. The Badgers tended to click their nails on the harder floors like out in the hall.

"No, I'm fine," Lee assured her.

"My mom or dad don't usually sit in the dark like that leaning back on the headrest unless they have a headache or feel sick," Tish explained.

"I'm using my spex," Lee explained, reaching up and touching them. She still could see Tish follow the motion of her hand in the dim light. She wondered if the kid could see better in the dark than her? "There's a bunch of stuff happening up above with my ships, and it's way too complicated to watch on the little screen on my com pad. This projects it at my eyes so it looks like a big screen in front of me with lots and lots of detail. You can use it overlaid on what is in front of you, but it's much easier to see plot boards and system scan projected with the dark ceiling behind them."

"Are your ships in trouble?"

"Possibly. One of the ships was pressured to leave with one of the huge ships that came in looking for the Biters. He volunteered to go... somewhere. It was very brave and I hope he comes back safe. But it was worth the risk if we can learn to talk with these people. They build spaceships twelve hundred meters long. I don't know how to translate that for you. Do you want my pad to say it in Trade for you?"

"No, that's eight hundred thirty pik. I read about meters and hours and all your measurements."

"Really? I'm impressed."

"I thank you for telling me the truth that your ship is in trouble. Father would just tell me never mind, that isn't something for little girls to worry about."

"Parents always look at children differently. Even my adopted father Gordon treats me differently than my biological father did. And we all lived together for years. Your father has to see you are fed and sheltered and protected, I just get to enjoy knowing you and I'll be gone in a month maybe and there are no promises I'll ever see you again."

"If I don't see you, thank you again."

"You're welcome. I was starting to wonder if I would see you again. Been hiding in your room?" she teased.

"I went to my aunt's house yesterday, and I'm not allowed in a lot of the rooms in the house. I can come in the library and the kitchen when the servants are there, but not when it's empty because there's sharp and hot stuff that can hurt you. I'm never to go in my parent's apartment or the servant's quarters. And they never told me, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be allowed in your guest rooms."

"Well if you want to see me just come to my door and rap on it with your knuckles and I'll come to the library here or wherever you want and visit."

"Thank you. Couldn't I just text you?"

"Silly me. I didn't know you had a phone."

"Not a voice phone, and I'm not allowed a camera, but I have a tablet computer that can text you."

"OK, you are welcome to text me anytime." But she thought and added. "I sleep pretty much the same time you do."

"I wish I'd come earlier. I'd have liked to see the ships moving and doing stuff."

"I have it recorded. But I'm not sure the spex will work the same for your eyes. Do you want to try it? I can watch on my pad and see enough to tell you what was happening."

"Oh yes, please." She climbed up on the big leather couch and wiggled back under Lee's arm.

The nose bridge was way too narrow, but they got the spex perched on her muzzle as long as she held them, because the ear pieces didn't work at all, but the image was just fine.

Lee explained the situation a little and plugged an ear bud in for the translation program.

"You getting it?"

"Yes, but having it translated doesn't help if I don't know a lot of the space words in Trade either. But I think I understand what is happening."

Everything being adjusted Tish held the spex straight with one hand and held Lee's hand with her free hand while she watched.

When they got to the part with video of the big ships she got all excited. When they grabbed the Biter ship she said, "Wow, oh wow!", and almost forgot to hold on to the spex.

"Thank you," she said again at the end, handing the spex back. "I really hope they bring your ship back OK, and nobody gets hurt." She paused. "Well, maybe the Biters if they're going to keep hurting everybody. They must have been nasty with these new people too, huh?"

"That's the story," Lee agreed. "Maybe they'll straighten out and stop being like that."

"Maybe," Tish said. But she didn't sound convinced.

* * *

"You're awfully quiet. Worried about The Champion William?" Thor asked.

"Worried sick. Isn't everybody?" Gordon asked.

"No, I'm pretty confident actually. I'm just a little jealous what marvels they may see. If they had any harm in mind I just can't believe they'd have handled her so carefully and not just grabbed her and forced them to go along the same as the Biters."

"That's what I keep telling myself. Why couldn't they have grabbed the High Hopes? I'd much rather be taking the risk than them. We're about the same size as her. Was it just a random pick? Luck of the draw?" Gordon asked.

"If they'd given you a choice who to send, it would have been a very poor choice to go yourself. You have some responsibilities to the fleet you know. It's not your place at all to go flitting off on an adventure, if you'll pardon me for saying so. Priceless will do just fine," Thor assured him.

"I entertained a few doubts about him but that embarrasses me now. He didn't hesitate and his crew hopped to his orders marvelously."

"You just never know who is going to perform when it counts until the hammer drops," Thor agreed. "You can run all the tests and exercises you want, but when they know it's make believe with no real risk it takes the pressure off."

"What if they don't come back before we leave?"

"I thought you were more concerned if they'd come back at all," Thor said. "They have a fuel scoop. They have all our navigational data. If they are brought back here after we go they can follow us home the same way we came in or take a new route back and maybe add some discoveries that way."

"It's a lot riskier for a single vessel."

"Riskier than volunteering to fly off in a huge alien vessel when we have no idea what manner of creature is flying her and can't talk to them?"

"Put that way, going home a new route alone is tame," Gordon agreed.

* * *

The hold or shuttle hanger was illuminated at a level Human eyes saw as twilight, more pink than golden. It was indirect but the source wasn't obvious. It didn't have that glow you'd expect if the surface itself was fluorescing. The walls were not plain. There were depressed areas and ridges that suggested underlying structure. There were several huge hatches on the side that would lead deeper in the giant ship and a few smaller ones too. Where the tugs that had pushed them docked was not obvious. There were a few small protrusions here and there that might be sensors or controls but nothing that was obviously familiar such as a key pad or buttons or levers. No conduits or rivets. No bolt heads or camera lenses. Nothing that would make it familiar in any way.

The effect was jarringly alien. Far more so than the video they had seen of any of the ships the races they were meeting built. Not even pix of the damaged Biter's ship which the Badgers had finally shared with them after being asked for it several times.

"What do you have for local gravity?" Captain Fenton asked.

"Just a hair over point one three g dead on a perpendicular to the deck," Probity Schlemmer said.

"Any variation in it? Check back in the stream and see if there are any changes. Did it ramp up smoothly when we settled to the deck or what?" Fenton asked. "It didn't seem abrupt but it's so light I wouldn't trust my senses."

Probity didn't answer immediately reading his board archive. "You're right. The accelerometers embedded in the ship showed a different reading on our 'Z' axis. We had a force pulling us down to the deck, but we had different readings on the side away from the deck. In effect a gradient to ease us down so we didn't bump. That was ramped just before contact so we didn't bump and then withdrawn over about three seconds to allow the present full force to hold us to the deck. That explains the slight elevator sensation we experienced. Damned if I have any idea how you'd do that."

"Nice of them not to sling us around," Fenton allowed. "Any radiation beyond the visible light?"

"Nothing hard, no radio... OK I'm getting a faint periodic pulse of infrared outside. Nothing that would bother you bare faced. I don't believe you'd even feel it."

"Any opinion what the purpose of it might be?" Fenton asked.

"No Sir, no idea," Probity admitted.

"Sir, I have a thought, if I may?" Burt Wong, his XO offered.

"Certainly, Mr. Wong. Commander Gordon has been trying to get me to be less formal. Please speak freely. We are not exactly in flight operations," he said with a rueful smile.

"I'm familiar with some systems that do exactly what Mr. Schlemmer is describing. I used to help my father install security systems that used just such pulses."

"Security systems?" Fenton asked.

"Yes, burglar alarms basically. I suspect this might be a bit more sophisticated, but I'd guess it is a sort of LIDAR that reads the position of everything in the hold and notes if anything moves."

"Sounds reasonable. They'd have an interest if we start moving around," the Captain said. Is there any atmosphere out there?"

"Not a bit Sir. Not even a trace of lubricants that I expected," Probity said.

"They must use different antifriction tech," Wong suggested. He looked like he was going to say something and stopped, closing his lips and sitting back.

"You had a thought, Mr. Wong." It wasn't a question.

"I imagine we are leaking much more than them. They might not be sure what is leakage for environmental and what is leakage from systems. If as Burt mentioned we are leaking any lubricant traces they might think we like a little hydrocarbons or halogenated organics in our breathing air. I doubt they can detect any of the silicone stuff. It has really low vapor pressure. But I wonder if we gave them a sample if they might not put the hold under pressure for us?"

"How would you do that," Fenton asked. "Put out a suit reservoir for them to open?"

"No Sir. I had a thought to cycle an airlock without pumping it down. I'd bet that they are watching the hold as closely as we are and likely with better tech."

"An interesting idea. We have ample reserves and can replenish them when fuel mining. Mr. Wong, have engineering bypass the safeties and do as you said on a small maintenance lock," he ordered. "I was contemplating sending a party out and that would make it much easier if they might be induced to supply atmosphere."

"Sir, what do you intend the party to do? Examine the hold surfaces?" Wong wondered.

"Not early on. Perhaps after some contact. I'm concerned it might seem intrusive. No Mr. Wong, we are on a for-profit mission. If we can we should trade with them," he reminded them.

* * *

"I'm sorry I missed you at first meal," Talker told her midday. "I had a lot of messages and calls because of the drama above."

"No problem. I was up before the sun and didn't eat with anybody else. I had one of my ration bars and went down to where I saw lights and people working already. I saw Amiable and got to drive a tractor to plant stuff."

"A tractor?" he asked, incredulous. "He actually let you drive it?"

"Yeah, you know, we put satellites up around a world and then you can carry a little unit no bigger than a phone that reads the distance from several of the satellites and tells you where you are. It's really handy because you can't get lost, and doing something like the planting you can follow a straight line across a field and space things out exactly really easily."

"How accurately?" Talker asked, skeptically.

"Most units will tell you right away where you are within a circle about as big as I am tall. If you spend a little more for a military grade reader it will be half that. After you have it on ten or fifteen seconds it averages out errors like multiple transmission paths through the atmosphere and will tell you where the unit is within about..." She held up her thumb and index finger spread apart.

"Something else to sell you," Talker quoted her.

"Yeah!"

"After a bite would you care to go shop in a little town nearby?" he offered.

"Oh yeah. I'd love to go in some shops. Anything crafty or jewelry or art. Is there a bank that would trade me for some local money?"

"Metals?"

"Yes, silver and a little gold."

"I'm sure they will, for a small fee of course."

"Of course," Lee agreed.

Chapter 24

"We have some pressure slowly building up outside. It looks like nitrogen right now," Probity said. "It's still a pretty good vacuum but there is definitely some nitrogen. If they have a good read on our air mix why would they bring pressure up so slowly?" he wondered.

"I would think because we are obviously not an atmospheric landing craft," Captain Fenton told him. "If being in pressure could be in any way harmful to our vessel we have time to make adjustments or raise a fuss with them. The same as our low gravity is probably because we don't have landing jacks. I'd glad we have a pretty clean hull. If they'd picked the Retribution it has so much junk grappled on the hull I don't think you could sit it on a surface without crushing something expensive."

"I'm getting some oxygen and helium now," Probity reported

"I bet they substituted that for xenon. We started the voyage with plain old planetary atmosphere from Fargone which had more xenon than Earth air. So they probably saw traces and wondered why. Argon is the noble gas more common in Earth air. I'll be surprised if they add any carbon dioxide or water vapor," Fenton noted.

"May one ask how you intend to trade with no common language?" Burt Wong asked.

"I'll lay a blanket on the deck and put items on our side, each sitting on a sheet of paper. On the other side of the blanket I'll put three sheets of paper for them to sit an offering in trade. It's worked for people who share no language before. I'll be surprised if they don't understand given their use of images already."

"What if they don't understand our intent and take it all as a gift, offering nothing?" Wong asked.

"Then we smile and accept that we have furthered interstellar brotherhood by our gifts," Fenton said with a shrug. "But we don't offer another round either."

"What would you offer, Sir?" Probity asked.

"A few coins from the ship's safe. Perhaps they'll figure out it's our money. I'm not sure what else. Suggest what we can spare from ship's stores, or if anyone has any personal trade goods they'd like to try. It's open for volunteers," he offered.

* * *

"The pressure is up to where you could go out with a mask. They are bringing it up so slow. I bet if we go out they'll take it as a signal and stop raising the pressure," Probity predicted.

"Let's not rush out then," Captain Fenton counseled. "The level it's at now would be very stressful. I've been on high mountains on Fargone and even with oxygen you can't perform at your normal levels. It's tiring and it affects one's judgment too."

"I've walked around at eighteen kilopascal pressure before," Wong said, "but I wasn't actually working, just strolling slowly. Some of the group I was with got sick. A few threw up even."

"And Fargone runs near three percent more oxygen than Earth," Fenton reminded him. "No, let them get it up around forty kilopascal before we go out."

"We have a wool bunk blanket and four trade items waiting at the lock," Wong informed them.

"We use real wool blankets?" Fenton asked. "I detest those things. I can tell you there isn't one in my cabin. Who gets stuck with those scratchy things?"

"About a third of the men actually request them, Captain. It was on a list of preferences common crew all filled out. A lot of people don't like synthetics. The good quality ones are of combed wool and very tightly woven. They aren't scratchy at all," Wong insisted.

"Even so, I couldn't have all those sheep on my conscience," Fenton told him. He managed to keep a straight face until Wong looked at him sharply, then he grinned. Humor in their captain was something new and would require some adjustment.

"What do you have to put out, Mr. Wong?"

"A few gold coins, an equal number of silver coins. I don't want to hint at which we find more valuable. Mr. Dawson from engineering volunteered a large format printed photo book of Ireland of which he has gotten tired. Mr. Lee has volunteered a jade carving of a Buddha. I have a suggestion if you would consider it. The Badgers gave us samples of their gravity plates. These people obviously have much better technology of this sort. I propose putting the sample Gordon dispersed to our ship out there and see if they offer a superior form to show us why our primitive sort is not of interest."

"Perhaps it would be better not to try to sell it to them," Probity suggested. "After they examine it they may be irritated if it is junk in their eyes. Set it out but to the side of the blanket, perhaps with something obviously broken as a hint."

"Housekeeping has several extra replacement vases for those they use for decoration in the better cabins and the mess," Wong said. "They have them just because they are breakable. Bust one sufficiently to show it is defective but not shattered beyond telling what it was and put it out with the gravity plate."

"But broken glazed pottery is razor sharp. I don't want to put something out that might cut someone. It doesn't even sound safe for our crew to handle putting it out there," Fenton worried.

"The galley has a number of clear plastic food containers for things like bread and to thaw frozen hash browns. I've seen them. Lay a vase in one and just smack it on the floor sealed up. I'm sure it will crack and no further handling will be needed," Probity said.

"And excellent idea," Fenton agreed. "Make it happen please, Mr. Wong."

* * *

"Are you taking me to the same bank you use?" Lee asked Talker in the ground car.

"I thought about it last night and asked my father what would be best for you. We think we can do better than the bank. He reminded me he has a small collection of old and novel coins and suggested coins from a whole new group of other species would be more valuable as collectibles than just the value of the metal. The bank would certainly charge a fee to convert them. A coin dealer should pay you a premium for them instead."

"That's a marvelous idea. I haven't lived on a planet enough to be aware of all the little niche markets in an economy." She got in her bag and rummaged around, looking at one coin critically and trading it for another. One she put in her shirt pocket. "Here, these are the three kinds of coins I have. Please give them to your father for his collection as a thank you for the suggestion."

Talker glanced at the coins she dumped in his hand, but put them in a pocket because he was driving the car manually. "I'm sure he'll be very pleased, thank – you," he said awkwardly. The abbreviated phrase didn't seem to come naturally yet.

* * *

"OK, we have 40 kPa," Probity said. "May I tell security to put the trade goods out, Sir?"

"Yes, we didn't discuss it yet, but I want this on a voluntary basis, and just two men. I don't want a mob out there and I don't want long guns. The second man will stand back and observe as the other lays everything out. Then they'll come in to encourage the aliens to come examine the goods. He may have a pistol in a holster but I want you to pick somebody calm and reliable," he ordered. "We are basically at their mercy anyway."

"Are you concerned they may take off with us like the Biters?" Probity asked.

Both Wong and Fenton looked sharply at each other. Wong started to open his mouth and clamped it back shut abruptly and nodded at Fenton to indicate it was his privilege to speak.

"Mr. Schlemmer, I do not wish to upset you, but in all likelihood we have already been whisked away. There is no telling how many star systems we may be removed from the Badger's planet by now given the performance we have seen these vessels display."

Schlemmer did a real face palm, not for dramatic effect but in real shock. "Of course, if they can control setting us down so delicately, we wouldn't feel them move, would we?" he finally realized.

"Indeed, it is a new thing, contrary to all our experience," Fenton admitted to soften it. "Mr. Wong see to it we have a camera on the area where they are laying out the goods and make sure it is being recorded. If you might manage a couple different angles on the view, that would be good too."

* * *

The Badger coin dealer had a very small shop and one assistant. Just outside the door Talker took her hand and held it until he'd informed the owner what sort of business they intended. They were invited to sit at a long narrow table with just two chairs on each side. There were a few soft pads on which to place things and a couple small lamps with no cord and a shaded spotlight head that could be directed by bending a gooseneck.

There were quite a few coins displayed in little framed mounts on the walls. There were also some clear display cases with what Lee presumed passed as art. A few were small statues, a bowl that appeared to be carved out of stone, and something that was probably a musical instrument. It looked something like a big banjo with a short neck, something she'd never really seen except in music videos.

The assistant went for tea for the Badgers with a separate pot of hot water for Lee to make her own coffee. She had a few packets of instant in her pocket with a couple ration bars in case they were delayed returning to Talker's place. The dealer picked up the empty packet and sniffed at it.

"It is safe for Badgers if you'd like to try it," she offered. "Most Badgers seem to find it too bitter and prefer it with a little syrup."

A few words sent the assistant off to fetch the sweetener. He was brave enough to try it plain first and made a little face. "Yes it is too strong for me. Quite a different flavor though." He added the golden syrup and stirred it thoroughly before trying it. "I'm afraid it must be an acquired taste," he decided.

"It is. But I fear I've done so already," Talker told him. "It's bad to have a taste for star goods. It will remain horribly expensive even if we have a regular trade."

"But next time I come here, or at least send someone, I'll make sure we have coffee to plant and grow your own. Chances are it'll grow here if some bug or blight isn't fond of it too. It's picky about micro-climate however. On Earth it grows on mountainsides. Not too high or too low, but only really thrives in a certain band and range of temperature and rainfall."

"Wouldn't it be more profitable to keep its growth exclusive so there remains a high value market for the beverage?" the shopkeeper asked,

"Not for long," Lee told him. "Somebody would eventually get some seed or cuttings and smuggle them no matter how hard you tried to control it. I'm not going to grub after, uh... What do you call coins of very low value in Trade? I'd say pennies in English."

"Dint," the dealer supplied, "the word is the same in Trade and Badger."

"A Din is a bigger coin," Talker supplied, "and most of the time a 'T' sound is the, uh... diminutive," he said in English after consulting his com pad. "But not as consistently in Trade as in Badger."

"Just borrowed Badger words?" Lee asked.

"Exactly," Talker agreed.

The dealer got up while Talker was speaking and approached the wall with all the small framed items. He pointed a small device from his pocket at one of the containers and brought it back to the table. How it worked wasn't obvious, but the wall appeared blank where he removed it. Lee found that interesting. He sat again and slid the container across the table to her.

"This is an older Dint. You won't find them in circulation as money now. It's sought by collectors for the design. It's my gift to you," he said plainly.

"Thank you," Lee said examining the container as much as the coin. It was a burnished metal frame with no corner seams, about fifty millimeters square. The metal edge was quite narrow and a transparent pane of some material was recessed on each side. If you looked closely the coin was located in the center by being in another sheet of transparent material with a hole.

"How can you open it up? Or can you without damaging it?" she wondered.

"Certainly," he got a soft cloth out of his pocket and laid on one of the pads. "One edge is marked," he said," pointing at two barely perceivable dots, no more than fly specks at opposite ends of one side. He grasped that side of the frame and the opposite, pulling. "You don't need a lot of force, but you have to maintain a pull for several seconds." The marked edge came loose and with it the center pane with the coin slid out dropping the coin on the cloth. He picked it up with the cloth, not touching it, and presented it to Lee. She didn't see how her fingers would hurt it. The coin had a dark brown patina, but she went along with his custom. The design on one side was a Badger head in profile but the other side was a complex design of curves and swirls she could not place as any real object.

"I lack a reference to know what this depicts," she admitted.

"Oh, yes if you'd never seen one it might just appear an abstraction," the dealer admitted. "It's a rather large showy flower," he said, her pad supplying the new word in English. "It was the emblem of a prominent clan and then the logo of their trading company. You'll still see it on packaged products and the front of their offices and stores."

"So then the Badger is the head honcho for the clan or company?" Lee asked.

After the computer sorted that out the storekeeper agreed. "Yes, but about six generations back."

"Hah, the computer just filled my whole screen with synonyms," Talker said amused. "The Big Wheel, President, Main Man, Big Cheese, El Jeffe, Boss, CEO, Magnate, Godfather, Director," he read off a few. He blinked a few times and looked at Lee hard. "So many of these... I don't know how to say it," he said, frustrated. "They don't make sense. I feel there is an attitude behind them."

"You are too polite," Lee told him. "There's lots of attitude. You see more of it the further you get away from Earth. Humans show a wide range of respect for authority. Earth has a lot of people who put authority on a pedestal and worship it. Fargone is full of people who will mock any display of pretentious dignity and titles. They don't go in for flowery titles and official costumes."

"Costumes?"

"Uniforms, not the sort soldiers wear so they know who is on what side. I'll give you an example. When I was in court on Earth the judge for my case sat elevated behind a special sort of platform and wore special black robes to show he was the judge. This job you have, Amiable said you were 'His Excellency the Voice' so I know you have titles. Do any of your positions with a title come with special clothing? Do you use your title out in public when you aren't doing your job?"

"No!" Talker said, horrified. "In fact, since you mentioned courts, I sometimes need to sit and listen to important court hearings. If the people the case involves don't choose to be at the hearing the judge may send me to inform them of the decision. In court they would address me as His Excellency only, never my given name, because the two are not connected. And when I read a discussion to someone I'd say 'Hear the Voice of the Court' first thing. I'm just the voice, not the court."

"Do you wear a special hat or coat or anything?"

"No! The document is given to the person after a reading and it authenticates itself with the chop of the judge and a seal. If I wanted a special hat my family would send me for a psych evaluation."

Lee sighed. The computer still needed to supply four words for that simple conversation.

"On Earth, in the English high court, the lawyers and judges not only wear robes but wigs too. My Earth lawyer once told me about needing to stand before that court and finding that buying a proper wig on short notice was rather difficult. It was an entertaining story."

Talker spent rather long on the computer. "Fake hair? We don't have such a thing. Why?" he asked.

"I guess when you don't have as much hair as you guys it bothers us more to not have any. And the wigs lawyers and judges wear would take a lot of work to style your real hair that way. Times have changed and people don't wear their hair so long now either. It's complicated."

"Unnecessarily so, I suspect," Talker concluded.

"I agree. But Badgers have some ego or this fellow wouldn't have his face on one side of a coin would he?"

"Yes, but that also hasn't been the custom for the last couple generations," the trader said.

"Would you share your given name?" Lee asked him. "Do you do business often and never ask or give names? I'm Lee. I'm really 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. But if you say good-morning using all that it's afternoon before you are through."

"Now that's an interesting question. I'm so used to what is customary I wouldn't normally think about it. I just expect most of my customers won't offer names until they have done business with me three of four times. And we usually chat a bit over tea before getting down to serious business. But you may call me First if it pleases you. I was the firstborn and my parents weren't especially imaginative."

"Thank you, First." She put the coin back in its hole and pushed pieces together. It popped right back open with a little click instead of latching. "We may both be old before I've been here three or four times given what a trip it is. I appreciate moving things along."

"You have to hold it closed for a moment for it to latch, just like there was a delay in opening."

Lee closed it and said, "One hippopotamus, two hippopotamus, three hippopotamus," and let loose of the frame tentatively. It stayed closed this time.

Talker and First looked at each other amused. "What?" Lee asked. "It just helps you mark the time more accurately than counting silently in your head."

"Indeed, but our short unit of time is the willet. We say one willet, two willet, three willet, just the same. A willet takes about a willet to say in a normal voice."

"That would be handy. A second isn't long enough spoken normally. But is that sufficient chit-chat over tea so we can talk some real business?" she asked, lifting a bag of coins to the table.

"Yes it is Lee, what do you propose?"

* * *

"Oh My God..." Probity said aloud, but he still had his wits about him enough to send the video to the Captain's console as well as the rest of the bridge.

Fenton's mouth was a hard line. He might have reproved Probity if he hadn't looked at his screen.

Their hosts were coming out to inspect the trade goods. They entered from a door that looked like any hatch on a human ship but just barely missed being flush to the deck.

"Well, we finally found something that's really different," Wong said. He said it so softly you'd think he was afraid the aliens would hear him out in the hold. Nobody else volunteered anything. They just watched.

There were three of them. Long and segmented, about waist high, a coppery hue and shiny, but whether they were soft or hard wasn't readily apparent. The front segment had not two eyes but a two clusters of eyes of various sizes wrapped around to each side. There were limbs underneath. Or perhaps they were tentacles. They were thin and moving and far too many to count. If they were jointed it wasn't obvious. It was almost like a brush under them. In the front there seemed a T-shaped mouth of some sort barely visible, so low it was almost underneath. There were appendages on each side of the mouth. They were without a doubt tentacles because they moved fluidly, two sturdy ones on each side and a bunch of finer ones in descending thickness and length.

"It's interesting. The infrared reading says they are hot blooded," Probity told them.

"The whiskers... feeding aids?" Fenton asked.

"Maybe, it looks kind of like a catfish that way. I think some animals have chemical or electric sensors in them. Usually to feel around in a dark environment," Wong said.

"But catfish have eyes don't they?" Probity asked, like the idea confused him.

"Sure. They have both, just like these guys."

"You have good video feeds? We don't want to lose this," Fenton demanded.

"Video, audio, and even radio just in case they are carrying com gear," Probity assured them.

"Who know? They might have organic radio built in those whiskers," Wong speculated.

They went straight to the blanket ignoring the ship. Two stopped about their own length back and the third approached the edge of the blanket and stopped overhanging it a bit looking. He produced two artifacts from somewhere underneath. One cylindrical shape he held with one of the large tentacles slightly over his head and pointed down at the trade items. The other was a cylinder with complex shapes on the end. That he waved over the goods, sometimes in a circling or stroking motion.

"Tell me what you think he has there," Fenton invited his crew.

"Well the way he's pointing it, the thing over his head has to be a camera of some sort," Wong said.

Probity was nodding agreement.

Summer Hokkaido sat the systems board dealing with engineering. They hardly ever heard a word out of him on duty or off, but he spoke up. "That potato masher thing has to be some sort of multi-sensor instrument. I'd love to know what it can see."

"I had to look up potato masher," Wong told him. "It does bear an uncanny likeness.

"The one who didn't hang back and is doing all the real work – do you notice he's not only shorter but doesn't have as many segments?" Fenton said.

"You're right. Maybe they add segments as they age? Could be he is younger," Wong agreed.

"Or a different gender," Summer speculated.

The shorter alien touched everything with a whisker after waving the device over it. Whatever the mechanical sensor was good for he still wanted to sense it with whatever his tentacle touch told him apparently. He hadn't picked anything up though.

When he got to the gravity plate that changed. He scanned it and conferred with the others in a soft hooting and cooing somewhat different than their radio recordings. He flipped the gravity plate over and scanned it again. The vase seemed to mystify them. They hooted about it a little then one said something shrill, much more like their radio broadcasts. The junior, or at least shorter alien picked the container up and tilted it. The vase crashed against the end and he almost dropped it. He definitely jerked hard when it slid inside. He sat it back down much more carefully than he picked it up.

After he looked at it a little more he laid a larger tentacle along the seam of the container as if to open it. A short sharp word from one of the others made him withdraw the tentacle.

"Somebody there just called on a radio. It was really low power, not even a watt, but it was definitely some of their speech," Probity told them, "not data or video."

It was only about fifteen seconds before another alien entered from the same doorway. He was a short one too. There were three little plates following along behind him like dogs at heel. Sleds or gurneys or whatever you wanted to call them they were self propelled. They didn't have any visible support, just floating a few centimeters off the deck.

The container with the vase was carefully dragged, not picked up, onto one transport. The other carrier received the plate with no special care or ceremony. They small pile of gold coins was lifted one by one and put on the third plate.

"Uh – oh, I don't think they figured out that these are trade goods," Wong decided.

However once it was loaded the alien reversed the operation and stacked them all back on the paper on the blanket. Actually he stacked them neater than they'd been before.

"I'll be damned if he wasn't weighing them," Captain Fenton declared in surprise.

Sure enough the process was repeated with the silver before the fellow leading the plates left the hold with them. They never opened the book. Perhaps they didn't understand it opened. Or possibly they'd scanned the interior so thoroughly they didn't need to open it. The jade carving however was picked up and carried to one of the alien staying back. He rolled it around in his tentacles and seemed reluctant to hand it back to be returned to the paper.

Another alien came in with more plates, but these were not bare. He drew them up and allowed the fellow who did all the grunt work to unload them.

A coil of silver wire went in front of the gold coins and another coil of gold wire went in front of the silver coins.

Wong was laughing so hard they had to wait for him to get it under control. "They're saying, 'We're not that dumb buddy boy. Show us how you value these metals against each other before we trade.' I have to admit, I'd have done the same. I bet those weigh the same as the coins they are across from within a fraction of a gram."

"Well we'll reduce the amount of the gold coins in proportion to the last quotes we had when leaving Fargone. I'm not about to give them Earth ratios for silver," Fenton said.

"Earth is a lot further away. That's only fair," Hokkaido declared.

The book didn't garner any offer. The jade carving however got a mystery offering, a clear rectangle about the size of a domino.

The aliens withdrew and left them to consider the offering. Fenton sent a couple men out to swap the pile of gold out for one approximating the value of the silver wire. The silver coins he withdrew. The mystery rectangle was examined on the spot. By its absorption spectrum it seemed to be common silica glass. They checked for trace impurities and its dielectric value. Nothing seemed remarkable. "Perhaps it is unusually strong?" Wong speculated. When they tried to test it by mounting a strain gage it wouldn't stick. The first time the engineer thought he'd been clumsy. It fell off again.

"I might know why they think it has value," Probity said. "Do you have some water out there?"

"Just a bottle of water to drink," the tech said.

"Hold your thumb over the end and dribble a bit. See if you can hold it flat and catch a few drops." The water beaded up in balls as if it were mercury and ran off with the slightest tilt.

"Ha! They're trying to sell us self-cleaning glass," Probity said, amused. "I guess it was a big deal to them but we've had all sorts of variations on it for a long time."

"Oh well. I guess all tech doesn't advance at the same pace," Wong said. "And that tells me there may be something we think is old hat they'd be tickled to have, even if they are ahead of us other ways."

"Leave the glass," Captain Fenton ordered. "Put it back but off the edge of the blanket, and open the book up before you come back in. We'll give them some time and see what they bring out. Any ideas for new items for us to put out would be welcome. It doesn't look like they are book worms though."

Someone groaned, but it was with a closed mic and just made the Captain smile.

"I hope we don't fall into calling them Worms," Wong pleaded. "It wouldn't matter to me but I think it would be bad PR with the general public."

"Bugs is even worse," Fenton said. "But everything they look like is some kind of damned bug."

"Caterpillars," Summer suggested quietly. "I guess they get a pass on the yuck factor with most people because they become butterflies."

"Yeah, that works. For all we know this is the larval stage and they become something else. I'm declaring a break for us to eat and walk around. I'll set a temporary watch in here for us. If they come back quickly have them page our coms," Fenton said."

Chapter 25

"These are in good shape," First said, laying his hand on the bigger pile. "I'll pay you a margin of thirty percent over actual weight for them. The others are worn. Some of them so badly the detail is badly gone, the weight is off measurably from the sharp ones, and the edging flutes barely left in the middle of the coin. I'll offer you a fifteen percent premium on those. Or just do the better ones if you want. I don't usually offer coins in that condition, but these are such a novelty I think they will sell. I think they will be rare for some years too."

"Yeah it'll be a long time before we have enough traffic to saturate your market," Lee promised. "You have a deal if you'll pay me all in gold, because this was as much as I wanted to carry and at a premium it's going to be too heavy for me if I swap silver for silver."

"Done," First said, and looked funny at her hand thrust out. "What is this?"

"We usually clasp hands and shake them up and down a few times gently to seal a deal."

"How interesting," he said, taking her hand and letting her lead on the force of the shake. "Does it have legal force in your culture?"

"On Derfhome you'd do it in front of witnesses and it's a binding contract and gets posted to public notice whether it is written up or no. Same on Ceres, and the Fargoers do it and swear on their honor at the same time. If you renege on Fargone and it becomes known nobody will do business with you. I mean, they won't even sell you food. On Derfhome your Mothers will probably exile you from the clan if you foreswear your word. It used to be common on Earth but you only find it in rural areas now. Most of Earth and Mars if it isn't signed on a wet ink contract it doesn't even matter if you have video of it. But on At Last or the Lunar Republic if you fail to keep a contract you've shook on, they will demand you meet them and give them satisfaction."

"What sort of satisfaction?" he asked puzzled.

"The satisfaction of facing each other with pistols and giving them a chance to put a bullet between your lying eyes. They take their word very seriously," Lee assured him.

"I think you should make a special note to advise people of that custom if Badgers start playing the tourist on your worlds."

"That's a good idea. I imagine we'll need a similar travel guide here," Lee guessed.

* * *

"Here they come," Probity said. He was still finishing a last cup of coffee from supper. The aliens had their little transport plates with them. They could see the vase box on screen clearly already.

They stopped short again and the short fellow, they assumed it was the same one, came forward and moved the jade carving off to the side of the blanket, retaining the sheet of paper. He did the same with the book, leaving it open, and the gold coins.

"Why are they moving everything off onto the deck?" Probity asked. Nobody wanted to guess.

They weighed the gold, decided it was a favorable ratio and loaded it on a plate leaving their silver wire in return. After some discussion and a radio message they put the glass piece with the gold wire to be removed from trade. Then they carefully folded the blanket up by halves and put the vase box and the gravity plate opposite it, but there was a second thinner plate on top of theirs.

"They'd rather have the blanket!" Fenton realized, shocked.

"They want the jade too. Look at this," Wong said. Opposite the carving they put a coil of gold wire. Easily three times as much as they'd accepted for the silver.

"Ask Mr. Lee if that is a satisfactory trade for his carving," Fenton instructed. "One does wonder why the man brought along a souvenir if it wasn't of some sentimental value," he mused.

"I sent him a video of it. He says to go for it, that it is a cheap tourist carving from Hong Kong he got on vacation that is of no particular value," Probity told him.

"Very well, when they withdraw we'll grab the gold and the gravity plate replacement. I hope they gave us the upgrade version and not just a little better plate of the same sort we have."

"Captain... "Wong came very close to cutting off Fenton's last words. His voice was strained but you don't interrupt the Captain or talk over him. Fenton took no notice or offence.

"Yes, Mr. Wong?"

"Would you have one of the cameras zoom in and take a better look at the vase container?"

"Certainly, Probity see to that would you please?"

When the camera was focused on a close tight view they could see the vase much better.

"They glued it back together?" Probity asked.

"I wouldn't bet on it," Wong said in a strained voice.

"Reproduced it? They wouldn't have time," Fenton insisted.

"What are you thinking then?" Probity demanded.

"I'd rather not say. I tell you what. I'll write it down and put it in my shirt pocket here. I may or may not show it to you later. I'll think on it."

"Fine, we don't have enough mysteries." He obviously thought Wong was being overly dramatic but wouldn't say so to his superior officer. Wong scribbled and tucked the note in his breast pocket.

 The trouble soon became apparent. The aliens didn't intend to withdraw. At least not completely. They backed off toward their hatch a bit and then stood waiting.

"It looks like we are being invited to trust them," Captain Fenton observed.

"As you said, we're really all at their mercy even sealed up, so why not?" Summer asked.

"Mr. Wong, tell your men to collect the wire for Mr. Lee and get the plates and vase. Mr. Hokkaido, since you are so willing to trust them would you to put out two more blankets in trade? If they are so valuable surely three won't saturate the market."

"Yes, thank you Sir, I'm delighted to get a close look at them," Summer said.

"Well, despite your enthusiasm, I don't suggest you try to shake tentacles with them or get too personal," Captain Fenton cautioned him. "But you are welcome."

* * *

"Believe me, Lee. A pocket full of the smaller coins will probably buy anything you see today," Talker insisted. "You don't have to carry that heavy bag around. If you find anything that won't buy I'll tell them to bill it to me," Talker offered.

"You guys use credit?" Lee asked suspiciously.

"Look at my father's estate. Do you really think any merchant in town doesn't know us?"

"Yeah, I guess that was silly. So what do Badgers do for art? Is there a place in town that sells jewelry or paintings? Maybe something crafty stuff like baskets or wood carvings?"

"How can you tell art from craft?" Talker asked her, perplexed.

"That's easy. Gordon told me art is always a lot more expensive."

* * *

Summer had two blankets, only about six kilograms which was nothing in this gravity but the bulk made it awkward. He didn't have as much low g experience as the two others sent out and walking with his arms around a big bundle didn't help his balance.

He laid them down in line with the other offerings. The other two crewmen came back out with him but held back from approaching the aliens all at once, fearing it might look too aggressive. He laid them in line with the book and considered it thoughtfully. On an impulse he leaned over and turned the book to the end sheets. He had a soft tip ink pen in his pocket and wrote. "Presented for trade on the Occasion of Humans and Derf meeting the first alien race of radically different form. Aboard their vessel. Fargone year of landing one hundred twelve. – Summer Hokkaido – and repeated his name in Japanese characters – Systems Specialist aboard The Champion William, Deep Space Explorer in the private expedition of discovery known as The Little Fleet."

Except for the Kanji characters of his name it was in a beautiful flowing English script. He capped the pen and left it on the open book. When he looked up the shorter alien had approached, not really close, but close enough to get a shot with the camera held over his head again. Summer was surprised, not so badly he jumped, but it threw him off stride and not knowing what else to do he bowed to the alien before retreating.

The alien stood his ground, even when the other two crew came forward and removed the alien offerings. After all three Humans retreated one of the longer aliens came forward and examined the book with renewed interest. He took the pen in a finer tentacle, trying different grips on it. Finally he held it with two tentacles wound around it five or six loops but in opposite directions. He'd seen Summer take the cap off and replace it but seemed to struggle a bit to do it himself. He first brought the pen close, perhaps to smell it, then drew a line on the surface of the hanger deck. That resulted in much hooting, screeching and waving of the facial tentacles and radio traffic.

"Come on back in," Captain Fenton instructed them. "I think it'll take them awhile to respond." Indeed the aliens removed themselves too.

When Summer returned he had some news. "Captain, when that fellow with the camera got a bit closer I smelled an odor of ammonia about him."

"That's interesting. Unless they can hold their breath like a whale they seem to breath the same stuff as we do without needing any masks or pressure equipment. Ammonia may be one of their metabolic products but I think the Biters assumed too much to think they breathe it."

"If they excrete it maybe the Biters shot up the crapper or their recycling equipment," Wong speculated. "I don't see how they could have been holding their breath unless they speak with something like a diaphragm instead of like all the rest of us do."

"We should go off shift and let the 'B' crew wake us up if anything happens," Fenton said. "I'm scared I'll miss something though. Anybody who needs to can go off shift," he offered. Nobody took him up on it.

* * *

There didn't seem to be any organization in the open market at all. They didn't put all the food dealers or truck farmers together. Lee observed that food grilled on a stick seemed to be universally obvious to everybody whatever they called it. The Badger selling that was doing a brisk business. Right next to it was a stall selling plants and roots. Vegetables to eat Lee assumed. Then a buyer was offered a sample slice of some sort of red root while she watched, so yes... it was food.

There were stalls with shoes and hand tools, small electronics and functional pottery with a pretty blue glaze. She figured out after a bit that a lot of the household goods were used. They saw simple handmade baskets meant to be functional not art and similarly utilitarian rugs. After one quick circuit of the outdoor market in the heat of the day Lee was ready to see some fancier goods in the shade.

"Is there somewhere we can sit a bit and drink some water?" she asked Talker.

"There is a restaurant with shaded tables across the road from the market," he informed her. "Come, we'll take a break there. I'm ready to stop marching around too." He took her hand and led her, even though it was crowded. They had to squeeze through the crowd but he held on tight.

Talker bought an iced fruit drink and Lee stayed safe with plain ice water. "Do the other races in your star group all drink cold things?" Lee wondered.

"I know Bills do." He stopped and thought hard. "I've been to a dinner with Sasquatches and Cats but I never paid any attention to what they drank. I don't know. The owner of the restaurant would likely know better than me. Do you want to ask for him to come talk to us?"

"No, it was just idle curiosity."

"You didn't buy anything in the market," he said. But there was a question implied.

"I guess Badgers don't go in for over decorated folksy stuff. I was looking for something like a bowl that had carving or painted decorations, perhaps a small rug to perk up a ship's cabin with bright colors and patterns. People seem to be content with very plain things."

"Most people... Badgers that is, don't like things busy to the eye. The ones you call Cats do."

"Search in the partial web we gave you for folk art and then just ask for images. There should be something there to give you an idea what I expected."

"Nooo... We don't have anything at all like this, uh, stuff. What is this?" he asked, showing her an image on his hand pad.

"It's a lamp but encrusted with sea shells, the exoskeletons of marine creatures, for decoration."

"And this?" he asked of another picture.

"It's just a plain wood table, but carved and painted bright colors." It had lines and rosettes of triangular chip carving but filled in with bright gold and white paint below a purple face.

"It's so busy with unneeded things the eye doesn't see the basic form," he complained.

"OK, I admit I wasn't very observant. Looking at all the people across the street, I don't see anybody in polka dots or plaid. I guess a Hawaiian shirt would be unthinkable."

"I see polka dots and plaid," he said shuddering at the web images, "but Hawaiian doesn't return anything but an article about an island and language. We don't have most of your English web yet."

"Look under Aloha shirt," Lee suggested.

Talker blew green juice out his snout and hastily covered it with a napkin. After blowing his nose he shook his head in the learned Human gesture and barked a phrase in Badger.

"That is the same thing Amiable said!"

* * *

"Hey, they finally made up their mind," Probity said.

Wong started a bit and looked embarrassed. He might have drifted off which was bad form on the bridge but they had sat a double shift.

The aliens filed in and deposited a small amount of silver in front of the book, carefully lifted the pen to the side and sat another roll of gold wire in front of it. The blankets received two different items. One looked suspiciously like a pair of small tablet computers, the other was difficult to guess its function. It was a squat cylinder of substantial size with some protrusions, flat black on the outside with a wide funnel on top. It sat on three squat legs that flared out a bit with a flat plate on the end of each. Leaning against it was a clear plastic sack with a sliding seal on top. That wouldn't have looked out of place in a Human kitchen to store vegetables or keep something like shoes on your closet shelf. What was odd was that it seemed to be full of dirt.

The aliens again retreated slightly but didn't leave the hanger.

"It's kind of hard to judge what the value of manufactured goods is when we don't have a clue what they do," Wong groused.

"They know what our tech level is, way below theirs I'm sorry to say. Anything we get from them will be a potential bonanza if we can reverse engineer it. I'm willing to trust it will be useful."

"You really think we're that far behind? Probity asked.

"If you gave somebody in Rome a hand comp would they even be able to figure out how to charge it when it ran down? Much less take it apart and figure out how any part of it worked?" Fenton asked.

"No, not Rome, maybe shortly after the First Atomic War," Wong agreed. If they didn't destroy it with static. They might still have it figured out from the dead pieces in a decade or two."

"I'm disposed to trust them. If we can't figure it out what have we lost? Two bunk blankets."

"Sir, if I might suggest something?" Summer asked.

"Please, speak freely Mr. Hokkaido."

"My junior spouse is from a French subculture in North America. They have a lovely custom when doing business of giving a little something extra to the customer. If you had groceries delivered for the week the grocer might put a box of salt in with what you ordered for free. If you sent your shoes to be repaired the cobbler might put new laces in them without charge. They called it a lagniappe. I think it builds good will."

"A lovely custom, but what would you leave them, another blanket?" Fenton asked.

"No, that would be too grand. It's a little gesture. I saw how much they valued the pen. I have a box of colored markers I brought along thinking I'd do some drawing. I haven't used them so I doubt I will. If I do get the bug I still have some pencils. I think if the pen thrilled them they'd just love the markers."

"Very well, how will you convey to them it's a gift?"

"Just by sitting them well away from the trading area towards them. If they don't understand and set something out in trade just leave it."

"Sounds reasonable. If you'd fetch them please we'll send them out with the fellows to collect the trade. No need to send you out again, unless you have some need?"

"No, I'm happy with my one excursion. Thank you for that, Sir."

"Certainly. You might take your gift directly to the lock. They'll be waiting for you," he urged.

* * *

"This is more what I had in mind," Lee admitted.

The shop they were in was a short stroll down the street from where they sat and cooled off, on the shady side of the street now, with the sun going down. It was a jeweler's and more. There were artistic household objects but she could see now how they favored subtle decoration instead of bold.

There was a wide bowl of fine silver, very plain from across the room. Up close it was peened with larger coarse hammer marks at the bottom, seven or eight millimeters across and slowly getting finer and shallower toward the rim. They were barely visible cupped marks a scant millimeter across just before the rim was rolled over and beaded.

"This is beautiful," Lee said, admiring it. "But too large to pack away in my cabin."

"I'd think having such a majority ownership if you wanted something stowed in the ship's general storage nobody would argue with you," Talker said surprised.

"I'm sure I could," Lee agreed. "I'm already getting heavy shares. But everybody knew that going in. If I start adding on perks and special treatment somebody is going to resent it. That's why everybody eats the same food and got the same mass allowances regardless of rank or investment. When we found a rich source of platinum everybody got a souvenir chunk like I gave you, all the same. If I really, really had to have it I'd find room, even if I had to pack it in with my clothing. Maybe when I build a home I'll start collecting things like this. But right now I'll find something smaller."

"These are very well done," Talker said. It was spoon and knife sets for the table with some larger serving pieces. The handles were of some green stone. Lee noticed Badgers don't use forks at the table and had commented on it at dinner. Talker had replied drolly that they were well aware of forks and their utility, but Gordon had warned Talker he'd had to disarm Lee on occasion when she used her fork to express her dissent, so they'd hidden them all. If she wasn't afraid to stick a fork in a Derf what chance did he stand? He asked. It was a true story but that was long ago. Well, a couple years. She wondered what other embarrassing stories Gordon had shared. Talker was lying, they really didn't use forks at each place setting, but he thought it hilarious to tease her with the story.

"Ohhh! Look at that big serving fork," Lee said with theatrical glee.

"Stand back! That thing is lethal," he said, shouldering in between her and the display. The poor shopkeeper didn't know what to make of them acting so strangely, perplexed.

"Coward..." she muttered.

"Sir, the table utensils are very fine. Would you have a set for thirty two with a double set of the serving utensils sent to Safe Haven and bill the house manager?"

"I'll see that it beats you home," the shopkeeper promised.

"Look at this," Lee said from where she'd wandered ahead. There was a sort of a bust of black stone, but it was just a display for the necklace hung on it. It was a chain but the links were some sort of sea creatures. They curved as if jumping opposite directions nose to tail forming opposite sides of each oval link. They weren't detailed to be realistic but rather had a bit of a cartoonish look.

"Are there real fish that look like this?" Lee wondered.

"Yes, and very good to eat too, but this is a simplified representation. I'm afraid they have adapted too well to the local environment. They'd push out the native fish if we didn't control them. Fortunately they must come up rivers to spawn, so we can limit the number allowed back to the sea."

"Of what is it made?" Lee wondered.

"Ma'am, it is copper and gold worked together," the storekeeper supplied. Making a layering gesture.

"This is what I want to take for a souvenir," Lee decided. "It won't have any bad memories attached like the one I gave your daughter and it's lovely work."

"It may hold some bad memories after you pay for it," Talker warned. "This fellow is famous and gets three times the weight of the metal for his craftsmanship."

"As he should. It's beautiful."

"Very well. Sir, would you send the necklace along with the tableware? I told the young woman I'd put her things on my accounts if so she found items beyond what money she carried."

"To Safe Haven?" the man asked.

"Yes, she's our house guest and attached to the family. It will find her," he assured him.

Lee considered asking to just wear it. That hadn't worked so well for her in the past so she dropped the idea.

"Certainly," he agreed and gave a little bow. Lee had to restrain herself from returning it. She suspected that would irritate Talker.

* * *

The things the aliens left in trade were bulky and they had no idea what the large piece weighed. It was a low g environment but it still could be awkward to carry a large mass. They took a little wheeled wagon to collect them, of which they had several aboard. They were common to use in surface camps exploring. Wong worried it would look primitive next to their floating lifts, but they were primitive relative to the aliens' technology.

"It sort of looks like pictures I've seen of an old pot-bellied stove," Probity said of the one alien item offered for a blanket.

Once the wagon was loaded one man headed back to the ship with it. He locked the handle and pushed it ahead of him. It was easier to get traction that way in the low g. The other man took Summer's gift toward the aliens slowly. When they reacted a little he stopped.

"Did you see that? When they started getting uncomfortable they all stepped closer to each other," Captain Fenton said, watching it on screen.

"Herd behavior," Summer surmised.

The crewman tossed the package gently toward the aliens so it landed halfway between them. The shorter one came forward and ran fine tentacles over the package without picking it up. There was a bit a hooting and a short burst of radio. The crewman made a gesture with both hand palm out and shoved them away from him as he backed up.

"Good try," Fenton acknowledged, "But I'm not sure they'll understand. They don't have hands."

However when the crewman turned and hurried after his partner that made up their mind. After a few hoots and a screech the shorter alien grabbed the package of markers and hurried after the others who were already headed for the exit.

"No wonder they seem in a hurry," Probity said, "the pressure is dropping. I'd say that's a pretty good indication they're done."

"Perhaps we're being returned?" Wong said, hopefully.

"It'll be a few hours at the rate the pressure is going down," Probity told him.

"And unless they have some super advanced pumping system we can't imagine the process goes slower as the pressure drops. This seems like a good time for us to get some rest and let the relief team watch things for us. Mr. Wong advise Mr. Abbott to relieve us and you may leave when he arrives. Advice him to awaken us if anything of significance happens, even if it happens sooner than we anticipate, and we haven't had much rest."

"Aye, Sir."

As tired as he was, Fenton showered and put on a fresh uniform, leaving his shoes off but otherwise ready to return to the bridge. He couldn't relax without preparing so he could return quickly.

* * *

"I'd like to go back up to the High Hopes tomorrow," Lee told Talker. "I didn't plan on a four day stay. I've hand washed and reworn both my outfits and I'm getting low on ration bars. Would you see if there is a shuttle seat available please?"

"I'll reserve two for us," Talker agreed. "I know you are disturbingly egalitarian but I do have some official influence and can request priority reservations without serious harm to anyone."

"I'm surprised you know the word. I wouldn't except Gordon drills me on vocabulary mercilessly."

"I looked it up specifically to describe you. It doesn't offend?"

"Offend? Heck no. I took it as a compliment. Two seats? You're coming back up?"

"Certainly, I've kept up with some of my work by com but there are things I'll need to do when we return. It has been pleasant to visit home though, and you afforded me a perfect excuse."

"I'm going to miss you when we leave," Lee said, looking unhappy.

Talker looked really surprised. "But I'll be going along to Derfhome and on to New Japan with the fleet. Did you think our government would send a... well, a flunky?"

"Oh, I should have never taught you that word," Lee said, laughing. "It can get you in trouble."

* * *

The com alarm woke him up. They didn't activate the video, but the officer in command informed him, "Captain, I think you might want to return to the flight deck. The pressure was steadily dropping for a long time, but then it was suddenly purged the rest of the way all at once."

"I'll be there in just a couple minutes. If you haven't yet, call my usual bridge crew and direct them to return. Please have the galley serve us coffee and sandwiches on the flight deck."

"Aye Sir. I called Mr. Wong. I'll call the rest now," Abbott agreed.

Fenton looked at the com clock. He'd managed almost six hours of sleep. He'd functioned on a lot less than that many times in the past. His shoes went on and he sealed them, he clipped his portable com on his waistband, even if he likely wouldn't need it and exited the cabin. One of the perks of being the captain was he was forty meters from the bridge, hatch to hatch.

"I relieve you Sir, thank you." Fenton thought Abbott or his crew might resent being relieved as soon as action started again, instead he saw relief painted on the man's face.

The rest of his bridge crew wandered in over the next few minutes, Summer coming in last with wet hair. He obviously had fallen straight to bed. He couldn't blame the man for his choice. Then they sat with nothing happening, which validated Summer's actions.

It was another twenty minutes before the great hatch opened to space and the gravity, slight though it was, disappeared. Bright light came in and painted the bulkhead in front of them but the star that produced it wasn't directly visible.

"Well, is this an invitation?" Fenton asked. "They aren't pushing us out with their little magic carpets. Not even a polite nudge like before to show what they'd prefer."

None of the crew voiced any opinion. Like the ones they'd relieved they were happy not to be responsible for action that would put the entire ship and crew at risk. That was the captain's burden.

"Mr. Wong take us out with some caution. We'll see what they have decided to share with us. If they brought us to a new place they must think it will be of interest to us. They are very speedy indeed, but even if they go off and leave us I can't imagine we are gone so far we can't find our way home."

The spectra of the star showed immediately it was a new one to them. When they cleared the hatch and rolled the ship slowly a planet came into view displaying a significant disk. It was without question a water world, and likely living. There were oceans and land and the usual patterns of clouds with which they were familiar. The land seemed to have areas tinted purple instead of green that might still be vegetation. They were not orbiting it but rather seemed to be ahead of in a stellar orbit. The huge starship did not move away, and Fenton felt like they were being tested to see what they would do.

"Let's take a look about shall we? Send out a couple pings, at a third power. That should be more than sufficient to paint anything in the immediate neighborhood. Let's see if they object to that. We certainly don't want to take the time to do a comprehensive optical survey."

The ping showed a cloud of ships around the world, hundreds of them. "Only about a third of the ships in orbit around that world are of the same class as the one that brought us here," Probity said. "There are ships smaller than we've seen before, a few of a size we are familiar with, and some larger structures. I'm not sure if they are bigger ones are ships or orbital habitats."

"What's that coming around from behind the planet?" Summer asked.

Nobody replied. They watched as an arch grew detached from the horizon of the planet and grew large as it advanced. "Wow, that's a huge moon," Wong said in wonder.

"They timed it to show it to us coming out of occultation like that," Summer insisted.

"That's to the good then I'd say," Captain Fenton said. "No matter how alien in thought they may be, now I know they have the gift of dramatic flair."

"I can't imagine what the tides would be like under a moon like that." Fenton said.

"Should we investigate the world further?" Wong asked, and then immediately regretted it.

Fenton considered it, pursing his lips, a look of intense concentration on his face.

"No, I don't think so. If they'd wanted us to get up close and friendly they'd have taken us into orbit around it. They're showing us what they are, but they still are reserved. We saw they didn't want us to approach too closely when they were trading with us too. They bunched up and backed off easily. I'm going to say it would be better not to be pushy right now. We'll take this record back. Do a star scan too, Mr. Hokkaido. Perhaps we can locate ourselves from the data. Then, when that is done position us back in our transport. Perhaps they'll do us the favor of returning us to the fleet."

"They made it look easy to set us on the deck light as a feather," Wong said apologetically, after they'd made jarring contact with the hold deck again. The aliens for some reason waited this time until they were repositioned to start applying the same slight field to hold them in place.

"Since you've never had to land The Champion William before, and she isn't designed to touch anything but a docking collar, I count any landing that doesn't breach pressure or have any important parts knocked off as a success," Fenton graciously allowed. Wong said nothing, still embarrassed. Nobody said anything as the slight gravity ramped up and the massive hatch slid closed.

"I know we are well served not to be jostled about," Summer allowed, "but I wish we had a screen or something to let us know what is going on. Are they that different from us that they could be carried off by strange aliens indifferent to what is happening and not be concerned?" he wondered.

* * *

Talker took Lee's hand again when they arrived at the port to board the shuttle. She was getting much better at reading Badger expressions and the looks they got holding hands was telling her a lot. She was finally understanding hand holding meant a great deal more to Badgers than Humans. Badgers looked at them and showed approved or not when they saw the clasped hands.

 She'd been touched by it as an intimate gesture when he first did it, but now she was seeing it as a public statement not a personal one. She experimented with initiating it when circumstances made them detach instead of waiting for him. He didn't object at all. In fact she was pretty sure, as her ability to read Talker's face in particular grew, that he was pleased when she did so.

She was embarrassed that she was considered news and that they had been singled out for attention by groups with camera rigs who kept their distance but took footage of them shopping and waiting to board the shuttle. She just wasn't comfortable being treated as something special. She was sure Gordon would make fun of her modesty. Talker was right. She was egalitarian down to her very core. It was somewhat comforting to realize it was beneficial not only for her species, but for their whole group of races and cultures to be seen as something positive by these new people. It was revealing too that when she thought back, that there had been not many, but a few looks that had been disapproving, a glance at their hands and then a frosty look. On the other hand, even with a few disapproving looks, she felt safer here with Talker than she would have on Earth.

Thinking of all that and weighing the implications she gave Talker's hand a sudden squeeze. He looked up at her in clear surprise. She took it for an unsaid question.

"I do thank you, and value your acceptance."

"Whatever made you say that now?" he asked, looking about. "Did something happen I didn't see?"

"Yes, I just finally added up everything in my head... In my own thoughts. And suddenly saw how much I owe you and how much worse things could have gone if you weren't a good person."

He studied his computer when they reached their seats. She didn't think he was going to reply but once he was sure of his words he spoke quietly, just for her ears.

"You burden me with high expectations, but it was I who was slow to see how you gifted me with your friendship. I'm just trying to catch up now. Indeed, remember my father's words when you met him? He saw that the lesson of what you had done was as plain as a classical morality play. I will try to be fair to you. I don't know that I have it in me to be good. I fear we are getting into areas where words are slippery things and we have too few of them yet to discuss philosophy, much less religion."

"Your actions speak louder than words," she told him.

"Indeed there is a proverbial saying much the same in both Badger and trade."

"English too," Lee admitted, "but it fell off my tongue like I'd coined the saying myself."

"Coined the saying?" he asked, and consulted his computer. "Yes, I guess every truth has to be struck in the die a first time. But people discover them for themselves anew over and over. Don't they?"

"Some do," Lee agreed. "Just be aware, we aren't all good either."

"I had no such foolish expectation," he assured her. Then the shuttle launch made them heavy and cut off their conversation.

Chapter 26

"The pressure isn't coming back up, so I guess they had their fill of trading," Probity guessed.

"Now if they just don't deposit us in the Hyades Cluster..." Wong worried.

"They have been relatively benign so far," Fenton pointed out. "Perhaps even benevolent if the stuff they traded us turns out to be of value."

"Are you having anyone evaluate it?" Wong asked.

"I'm not sure we've up to it. What if we do something stupid they would be astonished anyone was stupid enough to do, and lose the ship? Our comrades would never know why. Imagine giving a propane torch to stone age savages. Would they know to turn a valve or press an igniter? Or might they toss it on their camp fire to see what happens when you cook it? For that reason alone I'll defer messing with them until the rest of the fleet can be tied in on a com link, but a safe distance away."

"I imagine it will take us as long to get back as it took coming out to their world," Summer said.

"Yes, but when we scanned the sky the primary reference stars were in very close relationship to where they appear from the Badger's world. So they didn't take us all that far. I'm confident we'd have oriented ourselves and got back within a few weeks," Probity told them.

"Which means we have no need to sit here when we are all short on sleep," Captain Fenton decided. "Abbott and his crew can come back and relieve us and keep a dock watch. They may sit a bit of a long shift but we're pretty sure it will be an easy one. Wong, get them back up here and everybody get some rest, a decent meal, and whatever you need to recharge," he said, getting up and taking his privilege to go off duty first while they waited for the hand off.

* * *

"Planets are fun to visit, but four days down below tired me out," Lee told Talker. They had lifted on an empty stomach and were having lunch. "I may get bored waiting a month for your people to get their expedition ready, but I doubt I'll go back down this trip."

"You might not have to wait a month. The latest word I'm getting is everybody wants to push the date up. Which is sort of amusing since they thought the original departure date was a real push. That's one of the things I wanted to tell Gordon face to face instead of on com."

"What made them change their mind?"

"A lot of things, but the biggest seemed to be the Biters putting us at risk by docking on our station. We could lock them out but it was hard to convince whoever flies those huge ships we aren't allies with the Biters. Gordon saved us there. His communication was brilliant. It upset our people they were powerless to actually keep them from docking, or kick them off the docking collar." He ate a bit and looked back up. "I'm pushing for an early departure actually," he admitted.

"Hmm... Did you ask Gordon to help you with that?" Lee wondered.

"No." Talker seemed unhappy. He didn't add anything to his brusque reply for some time.

"We have no alliance with your political powers," he finally added, unhappy. "It was beyond the authority of the representatives you carried here to commit their governments to such a serious obligation as a mutual defense treaty. The most they could do was carry word back we wanted such a thing. Also, Gordon made it quite clear that The Little Fleet wasn't for hire as a mercenary force at any price."

"Oh... I wouldn't have thought to do it that way," Lee admitted, "through 'official' channels. Honestly, I don't have much use for the way governments do things. I know you are part of your government and I don't know how it works very well yet. I haven't bothered to find out as long as you didn't interfere with us with a bunch of stupid red tape and regulations. I've been treated so badly by Human governments I don't have any use for them at all now. I think the Derf system of clan mothers is better on the average, or at least could be reformed, but I'd have never thought to appeal to any of them for help."

"Red tape," Talker said reading his computer. "Interesting, I admit the concept is not - unknown to us. You might be surprised how much I've worked behind the scenes to prevent just that sort of obstruction from happening here. I'd even say it has been my main job. But what would you have done if we had given you a long list of conditions and regulations for entry and trade? Maybe taxes or what was your other word?" he asked, checking the computer again."Ah, tariffs!"

"We'd have just gone away. I wouldn't put up with that foolishness and I'm sure Gordon wouldn't. We didn't land and meet with the Bunnies because their obsession with their government makes them act crazy. Their opening position was they already owned everything we had! When we put this expedition together we came this close to writing the Fargoer's off to equip us and going to New Japan to outfit us." She held up finger and thumb a few scant millimeters from touching. "They tried to pressure us with official bull pucky at first, instead of just asking nicely for things we were prepared to freely give them."

"On what basis could we have asked Gordon's aid then?" Talker asked confused, still not getting it.

"I'd have asked him to remove the Biters as a personal favor, for friendship," Lee said.

Talker looked stunned, silent for long enough for Lee to make progress on her sandwich.

"I'm not saying he would have helped for a hundred percent sure." Lee was quick to add. "But it's the only thing that might have motivated him. Especially since the Biters seem to possess an absolute talent to piss everybody off, Gordon included. The fleet crews already dislike the Biters so much they'd probably volunteer to fight them on general principles if he just asked. And if he wanted to help you it's not like it's all that difficult to get Biters to do something stupid to give him an excuse. All he'd have to do is ask them politely to stand off the station and I can almost guarantee they'd go all crazy on him."

"Ah, I can see the possibilities now, when it's too late to try it. But I thank you for the lesson.

Lee shrugged. "It never hurts just to ask."

* * *

Late in their next duty shift the hatch on the alien spacecraft started opening, bringing them all to a sudden and hopeful alert.

"We have radio chatter!" Probity declared when it was only open a few meters. The full opening revealed the Retribution fully illuminated, and in the distance the flat plate of the Badger space station.

"Mr. Wong, move us out smartly before they change their mind and think we don't want to leave," Captain Fenton ordered.

Wong had them moving gently while the acceleration alarm was still sounding. "Aye, Sir. I've rarely been so happy to see anything as familiar as the Retribution hanging there waiting for us."

"As soon as we are well clear see if you can establish contact with the High Hopes, and interrogate the Retribution if you can't Mr. Schlemmer."

"We are receiving a hail from the Retribution, Sir," Probity told him. "Would you care to reply?"

"Just send - Is this our stop?" Mr. Schlemmer. "I used to ride the city bus as a student, but I never had to ride one without windows. It's unnerving. If we ever have to go off with these folks again, I hope we can talk to them enough to ask to ride grappled to their hull instead of like freight."

Captain Fenton was really loosening up to joke over comm.

The only thing worrying them was the alien ship. It didn't leave. Offering no further radio traffic and its hatch closed now, it was still a looming massive presence.

"Mr. Wong," Probity said in unusually formal tones. "Might I see the note you made about the vase now? Or is it to remain a mystery?"

Wong passed it over. A bit of a stretch but neither had to leave their station.

"The vase will be like new, and we won't have any idea how," it said.

Probity looked at him funny. Wong could have rewritten it easily, but he didn't think he'd do that.

"Thank you Mr. Wong," Probity said, and passed it back. Nobody else asked to see it.

* * *

Lee assured Talker she could take him to the bridge without formally asking Gordon's permission. "I own two thirds of the ship and offered to buy Gordon out anytime he wants. I guess I can jolly well have a guest on the flight deck if it pleases me."

"A week? Can you really cram enough stuff in two ships that fast to last you a year safely?" Gordon asked on hearing Talker out. "Do you even have all the things you'll want to take on Far Away? I know it's been settled a few years but it's still the edge of your frontier in this direction, right?"

"The things for which we'd have to wait are people," Talker explained. "Look, I've looked up the words and expressions I need for this conversation very carefully. I spent longer researching this than we'll take to discuss it, because I wanted to express it well. Lee opened my eyes to a lot of the psychology involved."

"Is that why you are here with her?" Gordon asked, giving her a bit of a fish eye. "Has she become an unspoken advocate to your interests under your influence?"

Gordon noticed Lee looking at Ha-bob-bob-brie at the com console. He'd have to discuss that with her later too.

"Yes, she has a certain, what do you call it? I thought I was ready," he said, exasperated. but stopped and studied his computer. "She has declared friendship not just to me but I see by her actions with my daughter. Also, she has a certain economy of expression," he finally said. "She may also help me express myself clearly. She's getting better at Trade than I am with English," he admitted.

"She can cut right to the heart of a matter," Gordon agreed. "Did she however advise you to have her present?" he asked.

"Gordon! Would I do that and not just say so right up front?" Lee said, indignantly.

He considered it briefly. "Probably not. You just plow straight ahead and have no patience for sneaky, but you may need to learn how some day. On occasion it does have value."

"You haven't discussed this with Prosperity?" he asked Talker.

"I lack trust in Prosperity at this level. Prosperity might have divided loyalties outside your fleet. I'm afraid I'm the one who wants to be sneaky today," Talker admitted. If ever Gordon was certain a Badger looked embarrassed, Talker was now.

"Indeed? And why do you look so upset over it? Is it so foreign to Badger culture to be a little – circumspect?" That word made Talker go back to his computer.

"So many synonyms," he sighed. "If I were dictator I think I'd make it a law that there can't be more than six words for a thing. Surely that would be enough?" he asked.

Gordon just waited for him to get to the point. Obviously he was avoiding doing so.

"Are you recording this?" Talker asked abruptly.

Oh-ho. That was a shift. Gordon lifted an eyebrow theatrically. A learned human gesture but very effective.

"I'd like to speak... "

"Off the record?" Gordon asked.

"Exactly!"

"For whom are you speaking off the record?" Lee asked. Talker looked a bit stricken.

"See what I mean?" Gordon asked. "I bet you didn't even ask yourself that yet, did you?"

Talker shook his head no as he'd learned. Saying nothing aloud.

"We are recording it because we put all our conversations with you into the data base to be processed and improve the translation program. Would you like to disconnect for a bit?" Gordon asked.

Talker nodded his head yes.

"Thor, we'll be going to my cabin to have an intimate little conversation," Gordon informed him. "You have the watch. If the star goes nova or the Biters attack with a massive fleet you may disturb us."

Thor looked at each of them in turn with a sour look, unhappy to be cut out of the loop. "I'm glad you are taking a chaperone," he said, nodding at Lee. Talker was checking his computer as they left.

* * *

Gordon's cabin was luxurious for a star ship. That meant it was about enough room to park a ground car and a private bath just big enough for a Derf to turn around to use the shower, although he kept banging his elbows on the walls. About a half meter smaller and he'd have to back out and turn around to get the other side wet. He called for a steward to bring coffee and some Badger safe snacks and they waited until it arrived before starting a conversation that would have just been interrupted.

After the steward left Gordon got in his clothing drawer and got a shallow tin, and a small case.

"High Hopes, disable all recording of this cabin until notified from the bridge I wish it to resume."

"All recording terminated," the generated voice said.

"Computer, we wish no sensor output from this cabin whether recorded or not," Lee added.

"I must advise you that creates an unsafe condition for fire and requests for help," the AI said.

"See? It still had a mic feed out even if it doesn't archive it in records," Lee said. "Computer, verify instructions. This is Lee Anderson, password delta, delta, bingo, top."

"Verified and processed," it acknowledged.

"Computer, send emergency medical aid to the captain's cabin," Lee said.

There was no response.

"Just to make sure... I don't think it is smart enough to lie to us by omission. But still..." Gordon said. He dug a wad of silicone putty from the tin. One small blob he pinched off and stuck over a mic hole on his comm console. The larger part left he squashed over the camera lens above. Then he unfolded the little case and pressed a power button. A grid of nine lights blinked yellow until one by one they all turned green.

"OK, I'm pretty confident we have privacy," Gordon told them. "Would you pour?" he asked Lee.

"I like coffee," Talker said after a sip. "But this is so good it doesn't even need syrup."

"This is my private stock, not ship's instant," Gordon informed him. "It's upland estate Fargone beans, ground right before they're brewed. It was twenty eight Fargone silver dollars a kilo when we left, so it damn well better be better than instant."

"Those are the fifty gram coins you had?" Talker asked Lee.

"Yep. Fine silver too. Not nine tenths like Earth coins."

"Thank you, it's an experience." He sighed. "I want to ask a favor," he directed at Gordon.

"Really? And it has to be a secret?"

"Yes, for several reasons. One is selfish. If I did it on my own I'd be 'ruined' as you said, Far Away is the frontier. Bluntly, I'm Speaker, but in the larger picture I'm a minor official in the boondocks. Do I have that usage right?"

"Yeah, boondocks, sticks, country. You have the sense of it."

"So, knowing all sorts of high powered politicians are scrambling to cut each other out and get here to go back with you or at least send their handpicked deputy... If I managed to make us leave early, and leave them behind, can you see it would be a problem? My career would be over. I'm sure my father's reputation and estate would be harmed, even though I hate to admit to you that Badgers can be that petty and vindictive. Not to mention it would confirm Lee's worst expectations about any government. That's the selfish part."

"Wanting Lee's good opinion is selfish?" Gordon asked.

"Yes, in..." he made a big sweeping gesture.

"Ah, the grand scheme of things, we'd say."

"Thank you. I like that expression. But I feel it also serves both my species and our associated species. Or races in the vernacular."

"Yes, I've given up fighting that usage too," Gordon agreed. "By associated species do you mean the ones you knew before we arrived or all of us now?"

"I meant the old ones, but I was about to expand it to include you too. I think the people we have now to send are practical people who will get the job done to protect us from the Biters and blend our cultures without serving their egos first. The people coming from the home world... I'm afraid they are more like what Lee described as the norm for Earth. I mean, why do you think we are out here on the frontier? We had our fill of the crowded home world and regulations and the rigid mentality. How do you think things would be working out between us if instead of you – Fargoers and Derf mostly – we were dealing with Earth Humans?"

"Slowly, at best," Gordon admitted. "My own clan Mothers had to negotiate an end to the war we had with them recently. Instead of addressing issues they mostly want to engage in ritual..." He stopped and looked at Lee. "Well the usual terms a sailor would use are so vulgar I don't even want to say them in front of Lee."

"Why Gordon, you're always trying to expand my vocabulary," she objected.

"There are better directions to expand it," he assured her. "Your point is well taken," he told Talker. "We are probably more like each other on the literal fringes of our cultures. But if it will be so damaging to send the expedition off without the bureaucrats isn't it just putting off the damage until later when they'll try to dismantle it and put their own imprint on it?"

"If I do it, yes. But if the crazy aliens who they have never met and are probably afraid of dictate it, what can they do? What can I do? Just make the best of the situation. After all they are terrifying huge carnivores with devastating weapons. I'd just have to make nice-nice as best I can." He made a gesture of both hands thrown up in frustration that had to have been learned.

"Rrrrright," Gordon growled halfheartedly, and made a pathetic little mincing claw swipe in the air. "Nice-nice is in our data base?" Gordon wondered.

"Lee used it actually. The Bills use a double word for emphasis so it had a familiar ring."

"So basically you want me to be the bad guy so it doesn't fall on you?"

"That sounds so harshly judgmental... but yes, please."

"They'd be smarter to be afraid of Lee, but I can see I'd be an easier sell. I've seen misdirected blame work well on other occasions. Fine, I'll do it."

"It's really," Talker started to say, and then stopped at Lee's single index finger held up.

"Once you've sold something – shut up – all you can do is mess it up and undo what you have accomplished," she advised him.

Talker nodded mute agreement and re-booted his thoughts.

"I'll issue a note to you and the station authorities saying we leave in seven of your standard days, and get your butts in gear or be left behind," Gordon told him. "Blunt enough?"

"That will work. I'll try to get them to commit a third ship to go with the idea in mind it can be sent right back within a week or two to carry news of how our early negotiations and deals go," Talker said.

"Send the Dart if you can," Lee suggested. "I was told they have fuel mining gear just like our ships and she is fast. The sooner they get back here with word things are progressing, the less chance they will send a follow on expedition that might mess things up."

"I'll make sure Captain Henry on Murphy's Law knows he should obstruct and generally be a pain in the butt if they try to get him to quickly lead a second expedition after us. He'll stand on his orders and be unpleasant about it too. Let them think we're generally disagreeable. We'll, as you say, save the nice-nice for you." Gordon said. "He's a good man, he'll follow the script as ordered without being part of our conspiracy."

"Oh neat. I don't think I've been part of a conspiracy before," Lee said, smiling.

* * *

"Why?" Prosperity asked waving the printout he'd brought along in his hand. "This isn't what we arranged. It's very disruptive. How can we plan anything if the deadline keeps moving up?"

"Be glad he didn't give you an hour deadline," Thor said. "I'm not comfortable with that great hulking spaceship sitting there watching us. The sooner we're gone from his sight the better as far as I'm concerned. I keep wondering if he's waiting on friends, or if the Biters will come do something stupid that will entangle all of us with them like almost happened before."

"I honestly had grown accustomed to them observing us. They haven't done anything all this time. I don't see what would make them act differently now," Prosperity said.

"Just let me say, it's different when you have the burden of command. I've had a small taste of it," Thor told him. "You don't risk ship and crew on casual assumptions and ignore unknowns. If it wasn't really important to keep the start we have with these new people, I expect we'd be headed for jump in the time it takes to sound the acceleration warning."

"You won't say anything to Gordon about it then?" Prosperity asked.

"You want me to try to influence him? If I were to say anything at all, it would be – "Are you sure you don't want to bug out of here right now?"

"Thank you for the perspective. I'll prioritize and get whatever I can accomplished," he decided.

And what is Gordon's real program? Thor wondered. That must have been a very interesting meeting in his cabin. If he wasn't telling him yet he must not need to know to support it. He'd just done that pretty easily hadn't he? It was a horrible itch not to scratch, but he was sure he'd find out in time. Should he ask Lee what was going on? He considered briefly. Very briefly. Yeah, and look to Lee, like Prosperity did just now to me? – Right after I take up Russian roulette for a hobby, he thought.

* * *

"Sync your clocks with Brownie while we are at rest to each other," Gordon told them. "He'll give you our vector and projected jump time. We won't do a close mass jump with this mob like we do alone. You can spread out at hundred kilometer gaps. If you're really sloppy about timing that spacing may give you a thump, but it won't do any damage."

He said that mostly for the Dart, the Badger Deep Space Explorer Wonder, the Bill DSE Green, and the mixed crew freighter Cash Only. His boys knew the drill. Gordon gave a nod to Ha-bob-bob-brie that they were ready.

"Far Away control, departing at intervals on filed flight plan by your leave," Ha-bob-bob-brie said very formally, but in English. It was his first act of duty in his new job. It was amazing they had progressed to good enough translation programs to follow normal traffic procedures on their first departure.

"On your own clock count, Little Fleet. Be careful out there."

That was a nice homey touch. I wonder who told them we say that at home? Gordon wondered.

The High Hopes led, and the rest followed and matched velocity and position. The clocks agreed again in motion. They boosted at a comfortable one point two g and the new ships seemed to be calibrated to their standards just fine. There was no unnecessary chatter and just a few comments on systems deviations. Nothing critical enough to prevent jump or make anyone turn back. The bridge crew had a light lunch at the normal time and would go off shift after jump without doing a long day.

"Sir! System scan catching up with us. The Big Boy is maneuvering. Looks like he is going to follow us. Sending the feed to your screen," Jon Burris said.

"Well, isn't that interesting?" Gordon said. "He'll catch up with us just about the time we're committed to jump. I'd say he has our capabilities and performance envelope figured out pretty well."

"You think he intends to go with us?" Thor asked.

"He has the legs to stop short after we're past the point of no return, but what would the point be?"

"Oh, this is going to be fun when we pull into Derfhome and he's with us," Lee said. "People are going to absolutely freak out."

"I'd be much happier about that if we could just talk with them a little bit," Gordon admitted.

"He's with us for this jump. It's a stretch to assume he'll follow us all the way home," Thor objected.

"Want to bet?" Lee challenged him.

"You've been around the Fargoers too long. I could bet all my shares against you and you'd never notice the debit from your accounts if you lost."

"Still, that's what he's going to do," Lee insisted. After she considered the problem a little she told Thor. "You're right, it isn't fair. Instead of a set amount, a tenth percent of our net worth," she offered.

"Ha! You're on," he agreed.

"Wow, look at him go," Brownie said. calling their attention back to the plot. They watched in wonder and silence for a long time, watching.

The alien didn't follow them. It sprinted ahead on the same vector at impossible acceleration and jumped out ahead of them.

"Well, I'd say we have an escort," Gordon said, implicitly agreeing with Lee.

"I have to talk with those guys," Lee declared. "I want a ship that can do that!"

"Well, they like soft point pens and wool blankets," Brownie reminded her of the report. "A small gift can't hurt as the basis to open a dialog. They breath air and have eyes. If you ignore the tentacles and concentrate on the similarities surely you can communicate some way. Try sign language or sit and draw them pictures. They must be using those pens for something."

"Yes! I'll start practicing. I mean, I can sketch a little, but I'll learn to do it better and fast to carry on a picture conversation. I'll want a link to them where we catch up."

"Why such a rush to get a faster ship?" Thor asked. "It will be nice in time to have them. Now that we see it can be done we're part way there. Especially if that gravity plate turns out to let us do what we see them doing for acceleration. But the High Hopes got the job done," he said proudly, patting the console.

"I'm fond of the High Hopes too," Lee assured him. "After all, it's been my home most of my life. But we bumped up against the Badgers and Company in this direction. The Caterpillars or whatever we end up calling them are also in the same general neighborhood out this way. If we go the opposite way to expand our frontier as widely as possible, to find fresh open territory we have to cross the entire sphere of Human exploration, before we even start to hit virgin territory. That's what makes sense to me, more than just going off at a different angle on this same side. We can do it with what we have now, but if we can get their tech to do it faster it will sure save us some time and effort."

"Wait a minute Lee. You're talking like this is a done deal. You've never said anything before about mounting another big expedition to the opposite end of known space. You have the Fargoer's and the Mother's ships involved here. You have to ask them if they want to do such a thing again. You have to ask crew if they want to go deep again. They may want to stay home and enjoy some of the money they just made. You can't just assume all this," Gordon said dismayed.

"I wish to make early application," Ha-bob-bob-brie said, without even looking up.

"Huh, sounds good but I'm not taking off for the ends of the universe again without a flipping case of hot sauce in the galley next time, so we don't run out." Jon Burris groused. He always had a gripe.

"Damn right, sign me up to go," Brownie said over his shoulder.

"See? Sure, some crew will leave," Lee said, waving Gordon's objections away. "Look at the claims we have. If we need new crew or even whole new ships they'll be fighting over a spot with an outfit that has our history. Our status and payouts are going to be epic. Even though we still haven't found an unclaimed living world. Wouldn't you like to try for a green voyage ring for your other ear? Did you think I was going to retire at fifteen?" she asked her dad.

Gordon felt his bare ear thoughtfully. "We'll see," was as much as he'd say.

The End – For Now

The Last Part – My other books and links

Other Kindle Books & Links by Mackey Chandler

April (first in series)

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, who give them a thin technological edge in rebellion. 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 Middle of Nowhere (third in April series)

http://www.amazon.com/The-Middle-Nowhere-April-ebook/dp/B00B1JJ7RQ

April returns home from her trip down to Earth unhappy with what she accomplished. Papa-san Santos is finishing her rescue of the Lieutenants, Her traitorous brother is dead and so many things are uncertain. The Chinese and North Americans both continue to give her and Home a hard time. But April, Jeff and Heather are gathering allies and power. China, trying to steal Singh technology, gets its hand slapped badly by Jeff and the Patriot Party in America is damaged, but not gone. Their project on the moon is not so easy for North America to shut down, especially with the Russians helping. Heather proves able to defend it forcefully. They really didn't know she owns a cannon. The three have their own bank now, Home is growing and April is quickly growing up into a formidable young woman, worthy of her partners.

A Different Perspective (fourth in April series)

http://www.amazon.com/Different-Perspective-April-ebook/dp/B00DFL42PU

Despite winning a war against one of the world's super powers and undertaking a mission to Earth to try to demonstrate their independence, April and her new nation still find their freedom tenuous. There are shortages and hostility and machinations against them behind the scenes. Their small technological lead on the Earthies is about the only advantage they have besides courage and sheer nerve. But they are attracting the right sort of people and if pressed, they still are capable of bold action. Home is growing physically and maturing. So is April.

A Depth of Understanding (Fifth in April series)

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00IJ02NK8

April's nation Home has removed itself from orbiting close to Earth, but problems continue. Their enemies try to use the United Nations to act against them, as if that isn't a transparent subterfuge. The new Lunar nation of Central acts to help them, but at considerable cost. Meanwhile Home is expanding their reach into the solar system and gaining new citizens who appreciate opportunity and freedom. The things Home citizens decide to do, both new and old are interesting. The trouble from Earth is contained, but the whole matter is far from over.

Paper or Plastic?

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004RCLW68

Roger was medically discharged after his service in the Pan Arabic Protectorate, cutting off his chosen career path early. He is living in rural Sitra Falls, Oregon trying to deal with hyper-vigilance and ease back into civilian life.

When an unusual looking young woman enters his favorite breakfast place he befriends her. Little does he know he'll kill for her before lunch and start an adventure that will take him around the world and off planet.

When you have every sort of alphabet agency human and alien hunting for you survival is the hard part. But you might as well get rich too.

Family Law

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006GQSZVS

People love easily. Look at most of your relatives or coworkers. How lovable are they? Really? Yet most have mates and children. The vast majority are still invited to family gatherings and their relatives will speak to them.

Many have pets to which they are devoted. Some even call them their fur-babies. Is your dog or cat or parakeet property or family? Not in law but in your heart? Can a pet really love you back? Or is it a different affection? Are you not kind to those who feed and shelter you? But what if your dog could talk back? Would your cat speak to you kindly?

What if the furry fellow in question has his own law? And is quite articulate in explaining his choices. Can a Human adopt such an alien? Can such an intelligent alien adopt a human? Should they?

How much more complicated might it be if we meet really intelligent species not human? How would we treat these 'people' in feathers or fur? Perhaps a more difficult question is: How would they treat us? Are we that lovable?

When society and the law decide these sort of questions must be answered it is usually because someone disapproves of your choices. Today it may be a cat named in a will or a contest for custody of a dog. People are usually happy living the way they want until conflict is forced upon them.

Of course if the furry alien in question is smart enough to fly spaceships, and happens to be similar in size and disposition to a mature Grizzly bear, wisdom calls for a certain delicacy in telling him no...

Link to full list of current releases on Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004RZUOS2