“What did you expect?” she asked. And why should you expect anything, she wondered silently.

“Someone taller,” he said. “Older, maybe.” She looked at his face, and felt considerably older than he looked. “You had a contract with us—with Mackensee—after all…”

So the tales told, whatever they were, had not emphasized youth and inexperience. That had to be good for something.

“So what did you want, Lieutenant Mason?”

“I’d… uh… like to talk to you. I am the ranking Mackensee officer in this system.” She could hear both surprise and pride in that. “I’ve heard of you—we all have. And I have a dilemma that you may be able to help with.”

“I don’t think we have a lot of extra resources, Lieutenant.”

“I was thinking we might combine resources…”

“How?”

“Ma’am, I’d really like to talk to you in person, in a secure location. Could you come aboard our ship?”

“Er… no, thank you. I prefer to stay on my ship. You could come here.” That would give her time to find out a bit more about Mackensee on this station.

“All right. I’ll come right over.”

“But watch for trouble on the docks.”

A sound of throat clearing, followed by “Ma’am, I don’t expect I’ll have any trouble. I’ll bring a squad…”

As soon as she was offline, Ky called Martin to the bridge and told him about the call.

“Mercs want to talk to us?” he said. “That’s very interesting. I wonder what kind of problem they think we can help with.”

“I have no idea,” Ky said. “But they’ll be here soon, and I’d like you to sit in.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

Less than an hour later, the external scans lived up to their reputation and programming by signaling the arrival of “multiple armed individuals in body armor.” In the midst of ten Mackensee soldiers in nonpressure armor, faceplates closed, was their lieutenant, dwarfed by their imposing presence. Martin met them, gave the lieutenant a nod as crisp as a salute, and led him to the ship entrance.

Ky opened the lock and extended the access tube. “Lieutenent Mason, welcome to Dockside Vatta.”

“My escort will remain here,” the lieutenant said. He matched his appearance on the vidcom. “May I come aboard?”

“Yes, of course,” Ky said. Inside the ship, she took him to the rec area and settled him at a table. Martin stood at ease by the hatch to the galley. The lieutenant refused refreshments, sitting bolt upright in his chair, lips pursed tightly.

“Well,” Ky said, when he did nothing for several seconds. “Spit it out—what did you want to talk about?”

He glanced at Martin. “That man—”

“Is discreet and honest, Lieutenant Mason. That’s all you need to know.”

To her surprise, Mason flushed red, but he started in. “Here’s the situation, ma’am. The local station director says that the ansibles here are up and running, but we aren’t getting any messages. Any at all. We’ve sent them out, but we don’t know if our people are receiving them. Maybe the ansibles are blocked where they are. I—we can’t leave without orders; we don’t know where to go. And… we’re running out of credit.”

“Wait a minute,” Ky said. “What are you doing here in the first place? Did you have a contract to come here?”

“No, ma’am,” he said. “Lastway’s a good place to pick up contracts; that’s why we have a recruiting station and consulting office here. Out on the edge of settled space, like this, things are… a bit looser, if you know what I mean. You have arms deals… there’s MilMartExchange, you know about them… the largest purveyor of new and used military heavy weaponry and equipment… out here at the Fringe. When… someone… is thinking of fighting a war, they often come here to stock up on equipment. You must have gone by our recruiting station…”

“Yes.”

“It’s also the local consulting office. Whatever people say about mercs, ma’am, Mackensee is a quality outfit, platinum all the way. We don’t sell war, we sell expertise to people who otherwise will get themselves in unnecessary wars and cause a lot of damage.”

“Really…” That sounded like something he’d memorized from a brochure. Ky struggled not to glance at Martin and see what he thought of this spiel.

“Yes, ma’am. The Old Man says the only good war is the one that doesn’t happen—that’s why we like to take advisement contracts, not combat ones, if we can. And if the war has to come, better it be fought by people on payroll, because then the costs are calculable.” More advertising language.

“How many actions have you been in, Lieutenant?” Something about the young man’s glib delivery was making Ky wonder if he’d ever shot at anything but a target.

“Er… none yet, ma’am. But I’ve had two years of training, one at the Mackensee Combat Simulation and Practice Range.”

“I see. What made you join Mackensee?”

He shrugged. “Oh, the usual. Got in trouble, the judge said jail or mail, and I picked mail. I was lucky; Mackensee made me finish school after I went through boot, and my scores qualified me for their officer training.”

Ky thought they should have run him through a war first, but after all, she’d qualified for Slotter Key’s supposedly elite Space Academy on test scores and school grades. And look how that had turned out.

“So… you’re the ranking officer. Were you commanding here, on Lastway Station, or—”

“No, ma’am. I’m—I was the payroll escort officer, coming from our corporate headquarters out to Lastway… Major Delinn was the OIC in charge here, and Captain Oscone was in charge of troops aboard the two ships. When the ansibles went out, we were at Teglin Junction. Captain Oscone diverted one of the ships back to HQ to get new orders and put me in charge of the troops as well. Then when I got here, about two days later, Major Delinn suffered an arterial blowout and had to be put in cryosuspension because there’s no medical facility here that can handle that kind of thing. And that left… me.”

He sounded both scared and excited. “How many do you have in your command?” Ky asked.

“Ninety-two, all told, not counting ship crews. It’s more than a lieutenant usually has, of course. There’s twenty in the recruiting station and consulting office, another twenty in the rotation that was coming in to relieve them, and then the ships’ complements of troops. They’re not even the same organization, you see…”

And a payroll escort officer shall lead them… maybe. “How many ships do you have here?”

“Two. There’s a courier with the payroll, and a sheepdog to guard it. Not one of the big cruisers, of course, but well armed and capable of handling anything but major ships of the line. The other ship was much the same, the one the captain took back to HQ.”

“So what do you think I can do to help you?” Ky asked.

“I was thinking you could hire us,” he said. “I mean, we hear that someone’s attacking Vatta ships and people and things. We could protect you. Then you—Vatta, I mean—would be guarantors for our support onstation.”

Much as she’d wanted to hire Mackensee, this young man did not inspire confidence. She hedged. “Are you—forgive me for asking an awkward question—but are you entitled to make contractual agreements on Mackensee’s behalf?”

“Master Sergeant Dolan says I am—I mean, it’s in the regulations. The ranking officer may make binding contracts provided that such contracts are in the best interests of Mackensee.”

“And how many personnel in ship crews?” Ky asked, thinking that probably explained why they were running short of cash even if they’d brought the payroll. She wondered how big it was. She had no idea what it cost to support a military unit in idleness, a topic not covered in the Slotter Key Space Academy.

“Fifteen in the courier, and probably a hundred in the other. Why? They aren’t my problem.”

They were his problem, and he was a very stupid junior officer if he couldn’t see it.

“What sort of contract were you thinking of?” Ky asked.