“All right. Will these clothes do?”

“Yes. You’re businesslike. You may not need to say much.”

“In other words, shut up and let you handle it?”

“No. But I’m introducing you as a source of information and also as my financial officer. Vatta’s financial officer. You can look grave when money is mentioned.”

“Grave concern,” Stella said. Her face settled into exactly such an expression, and Ky grinned.

“Excellent. Martin represents something they understand; he’s so obviously ex-military. We have five minutes; let’s go set up the space.”

Quincy had sent Toby and Mehar up to straighten the rec area; Ky had them go into the galley and lay out some platters and plates in readiness.

“You invited them for dinner?” Stella asked.

“No. But I suspect employers are expected to offer refreshment, and since we’re already feeding their troops, I might as well feed these officers. The food should be arriving shortly.”

The officers arrived first, with their escort. Ky welcomed them aboard and led them to the rec area. Pensig she had seen onscreen; in person he was half a head taller than she was; she could feel her spine stretching in response. The Exec off the other ship was a stocky balding man about her own height with bright blue eyes; the enlisted man with hashmarks up his sleeve was, she assumed, Master Sergeant Dolan. He looked as if someone had hacked him roughly out of cast iron. He gave her an appraising look and then a slight, sharp nod.

“Please be seated,” Ky said. “Refreshments are on the way.” She hoped they were; she had expected them by now. The dock area’s grocers weren’t that far away.

“Thank you,” Captain Pensig said. “This is Lieutenant Commander Johannson, Captain Garner’s Exec, and Master Sergeant Dolan.” He looked at Stella.

“And this is Stella Vatta,” Ky said, ignoring Stella’s married name. She wanted the implied heft of the Vatta name. “She is my senior intelligence officer as well as acting CFO for Vatta family interests off Slotter Key. And this is Gordon Martin, who’s in charge of our security measures.”

“Do you have other Vatta family members aboard?” Pensig asked.

“Yes, a survivor of the attack on a Vatta ship on Allray. But Toby’s a little junior for this conference.”

“I see. Master Sergeant Roth explained that you would prefer another liaison than Lieutenant Mason. That made it necessary for myself, as senior ship captain, to contact you. Would you care to explain your objection to Lieutenant Mason?”

She could not tell from his tone if he was displeased by it or not. “Lieutenant Mason told me he had no combat experience,” she said. “While I have no doubt that the training he received was thorough, I would prefer to deal with individuals who have actually seen action.”

“Ah… he told you?”

“Yes. How else would I have known?”

“I see. So, hiring mercenaries, you expect and demand experience… that makes sense.” He smiled at her. “Do you perceive your need as including ships as well as ground troops?”

“Yes,” Ky said, wondering what this was about.

“Very well. I realize that our command structure is unfamiliar to you, but if you define the mission you assign to us as including ships for more than mere transport, then I, as senior ship captain, become the ranking officer, and I may appoint anyone I choose as customer’s liaison. You have not asked, but I will tell you that my combat experience is… extensive. You are welcome to peruse my file.” He handed over a data cube.

“I’ll take you at your word,” Ky said, hoping that was the right response. His smile broadened; apparently it was.

“Well, then, I think Master Sergeant Dolan will do you very well for onstation or onplanet liaison, and once we’re beyond the first stages of planning, Lieutenant Commander Johannson will be your fleet liaison. Will that suit?”

“Perfectly,” Ky said. She had no doubt of Johannson’s combat experience; he had the look.

“As I understand it, you have defined our mission in terms of protection of yourself and any family members, discovery of the source of the attacks, and counterattack against this organization. Is that correct?”

“That is my mission,” Ky said. “My resources may not extend to obtaining your assistance in all of it.”

“Understood. But first and foremost is your safety and security, and that of your family members whose locations we know—three, isn’t it? I would advise you most strongly, Captain Vatta, to depart this station immediately. We are more able to protect you in space than here, where I understand you and your crew have already been subject to attack. We cannot move our docking slots to cover your flanks, for instance; there are other ships already docked there. However good your dockside security, there is no way to protect you against attack using the exterior of the station.”

“I see,” Ky said. “I had hoped the external monitors we have would be sufficient. You think not?”

“They were not at Allway,” Stella said, “where Toby’s ship was blown up in dock. I was told it was with mines placed on the ship from outside, probably by agents using the maintenance hoppers. And I know Ellis Fabery had external monitors; all that class did.”

“Well, then, we’d better take advice. But I have a few questions. Captain Pensig, I had been waiting to complete resupply in anticipation of installing a defensive suite and possibly some weapons—they’re on hold at MilMart. What is your advice there?”

“If you can afford better shielding, and have it delivered within a few hours and install it yourself, fine. Otherwise, my advice would be to load and go as quickly as possible. I can offer crew assistance in that, if it will speed you.”

“Stella, contact MilMart for me and get a delivery estimate on the defensive suite. I know Quincy can install it en route. Then tell Alene to order in supplies. Leave just enough room for the defensive suite, if MilMart can deliver it dockside in two hours or less. And while you’re at it, check on whoever Quincy sent out for supplies. They should be back by now.”

Stella nodded and left the room.

“You have someone overdue?” Pensig asked.

“Yes,” Ky said. “A pair of them. Damn it, they were only going as far as the grocer’s down the way.”

“With permission, sir, I’ll check on that,” Dolan said.

Pensig crooked an eyebrow at Ky, and she nodded. They had the resources and for the moment it was hers.

“Names?” Dolan asked.

“Just a moment,” Ky said, and went to the comunit, flicking it on. “Quincy?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Who’d you send out for food, and have you had any word?”

“They aren’t back yet? Jim and Mehar—they weren’t going far; I told ’em to get whatever was available at Farmboy’s just down the way.”

“Stella’s going to ask you the same questions in a minute,” Ky said. “Mackensee personnel are going to go looking for them.”

Ky gave the names, descriptions, and destination to Dolan; she had a sick feeling in her stomach. Dolan nodded and left the room. Before Ky could say anything, Stella came back.

“MilMart says they can’t deliver for at least six hours, but it’s available now. Want me to find a delivery service?”

“We’ll take care of that,” Pensig said. “If you’ll authorize our pickup. They do know us…” He smiled.

“Will do,” Ky said.

“I notice you don’t have an implant,” he said. “You haven’t replaced the one damaged at Sabine?”

“Your surgeon advised me to wait six months,” Ky said. “Stabilization of neural repair or something like that.”

“Had it checked?”

“Haven’t stopped,” Ky said. “Life became… interesting.”

“I see. Would you like one of our surgeons to evaluate?”

“Not at the moment, if we’re kicking out of here as fast as possible.” Ky wasn’t at all sure she wanted a Mackensee surgeon investigating her brain anyway.

“Any seizure activity? Sensory abnormalities?”