“Good point. We’d want to vet potential participants, though, and we’d be limited.”

“Make up a list of those you’d approve, and give me a target number,” Ky said. “As word gets around Lastway about the attempt to blow us at the dock, captains should be getting nervous and anxious to leave. They may be more willing to listen to me now.”

“Will do, Captain Vatta,” he said.

When he signed off, Ky went down to see how the installation was coming along.

“We’re working on it,” Quincy said. She had the installation routine set up on the screen. All the telltales still read PENDING. “It’s a good thing the holds aren’t stuffed with ag machinery; we have to have these sensor units in every ship space, just about. I’ve got Jim on that job; he’s got good manual dexterity, at least.”

“Rafe?”

“With Jim, at the moment. I don’t know how much help he is.”

“Mmm. If he’s not essential here, there’s something else he can do. We need to deal with the ansible problems.”

Quincy gave her a sharp look. “You trust him that much?”

Ky shrugged. “He’s the only one who might know what we need to know.” She considered telling Quincy all she knew—or thought she knew—about Rafe and decided against it. “He and Stella worked together in the past.”

Quincy snorted. “That’s a recommendation? I mean… Stella. Everyone knows about her.”

“Not really,” Ky said. “Everyone knows she screwed up years ago, just as everyone knows I was kicked out of the Academy—a different kind of screwup. Does that tell you all about me?”

“Well… no. But Stella—”

“Grew out of it, Quincy. And she’s the family I’ve got left. Vattas stick together.”

“I suppose.” Quincy shook her head. “It’s a new world, and I don’t much like it.”

“None of us does. So we’ll make a better one, that we do like,” Ky said with more confidence than she felt. “That’s what great-grandfather did, and we can do it, too.”

“I hope so,” Quincy said. “So much lost, so many dead…”

“Quincy… are you getting enough sleep? This doesn’t sound like you.”

“I… can’t sleep, Ky. Not enough. I keep seeing Gary’s face… your father…”

Nothing Ky had ever read discussed what captains were supposed to do when elderly crew came apart. She found herself cradling Quincy, holding her gently, until the old woman stiffened.

“Role reversal,” Ky said. “But it’s reversible again…”

Quincy sniffed. “I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be comforting you.”

“You’d known Gary longer than I had. Same with the other elders of the tribe. You’ve lost a lot of friends; I’ve lost a lot of acquaintances. Neither’s easy.” She watched Quincy’s face relax gradually as she kept talking.

“I’m all right now,” Quincy said finally, as she straightened up.

“Good,” Ky said. “Let me know when Rafe’s free, or if you need more help with this. I can use a socket wrench myself, you know.”

“Oh, I know. But captains have other things to do.”

“True enough. My next move is to spread the cost of our military assistance among the ships I hope will convoy with us to wherever we’re going, when we figure that out.”

“That’s a good idea,” Quincy said. “But do you think they’ll come? What you said before—”

“Situation’s changed,” Ky said. “We were almost blown in dock; others have to be feeling anxious—that’s what I told Mackensee anyway. I’ll bet some of the smaller independents will sign up.”

Rafe ambled in from the far reaches of the #3 hold. “Quincy, Jim says he’s ready for the next set of attachment pins…”

“Ah, Rafe,” Ky said. “Can Jim get along with Toby’s help, d’you think?”

“Easily,” Rafe said. “Why? Do you have something else for me to do?” He put an edge on it that made Ky’s teeth itch.

“Yes,” she said crisply. “Quincy, let me know when the installation’s complete, so I can let our escort know. Rafe, come on with me, please.”

They settled in the rec area; Ky stepped into the galley, noting that Stella had left it spotless, and brought out a pitcher of water and two glasses. Rafe got up and came back with a lime and a small knife. Before Ky could say anything, Rafe spoke.

“You were much on Stella’s mind, a few years past,” Rafe said. He did not look at Ky directly, concentrating instead on taking the peel off a lime in one smooth, even curl. She had no idea why he wanted a peeled lime.

“Oh?” Ky waited.

“Yes. She spoke of you quite a bit. Apparently you were being held up as an example of a properly brought up young Vatta daughter. Courteous, cool—butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth, is how she put it, not at noon in midsummer. Straight arrow, never makes mistakes.” He glanced up; Ky said nothing. “You annoyed her quite a bit. Stuck-up young prig, I believe, is what she called you. Born to be a military martinet, all rules and rigidity. Is that how you remember it?”

“Not quite,” Ky said. He would be getting at something, but she couldn’t yet tell what; she wasn’t going to let him drive a wedge between her and Stella. “I don’t know who in the family was telling her that, but I was getting the lectures on how good girls didn’t want to be spacers or soldiers, and what made me think I had the qualities necessary anyway, and why wouldn’t I settle down with a nice boy from one of the other good families.”

“And why didn’t you?” Rafe asked. This time the look from those bright eyes pinned her, as neatly as ever her brothers had pinned the bugs they studied. “You’re good looking enough, and Stella managed to find a boy she liked—”

“Who caused her a lot of grief,” Ky said. “I heard about that. Besides, you ought to know about family ambitions—you went rogue, too.”

Rafe winced dramatically. “Ah—a palpable hit. So you claim that you went rogue by going military? Or was it by being kicked out that you went rogue? What did happen?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” Ky said. She didn’t need to talk about that with this man, whom even Stella did not seem to trust completely.

“Oh, but it might,” Rafe said. “Things like that last awhile, when you’re young. It hasn’t been even a year yet, has it? Seeing as you’re the one in charge of this affair, I’d like to know how stable you are.”

“Stable enough,” Ky said. “Stable enough not to worry about what you think of my stability.”

“Ouch.” He mimed sucking a pricked finger. “Sharp as a tack, you are. Stella said that, too. Don’t you ever wonder what else she said?”

“Not really.” Ky gave him look for look. “Stella’s probably said a lot of things, as I have, that she wouldn’t say today. Makes no difference.”

“Mmph. Maybe.” The last of the lime peel came free. Rafe arranged it back into the shape of a lime. The lime itself, held in his left hand, he dropped into his water. “Do they grow these where you came from, on Slotter Key?”

“Limes? Yes, in the garden. We don’t have a citrus orchard.”

“Tik, as I recall, is your family’s main cash crop. Valuable. Mild euphoric and stimulant, various fractions also useful in pharmaceutical manufacturing.”

“Yes.”

“Ever taken tik tea and added lime?”

“No,” Ky said, wondering where this was leading.

“Don’t. Not a good idea. Chemical reactions make it taste bad and give a headache like being slugged with a rock.” He sipped his lime water, shook his head, and dropped in the peel. “The thing is, people are always mixing things they shouldn’t mix. Limes and tik. Guns and butter. Morality and—”

“Not that lecture,” Stella said, coming into the compartment. She had changed into a one-piece garment that looked like brown plush, and her gold hair shone against it. “Rafe, you ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

“It’s true,” Rafe said.

“It’s trite,” Stella said. “You peeled that lime for her, didn’t you?” She grinned at Ky. “It’s leading up to why you and he should get into bed together, even if it doesn’t work out, because mixing unlikes is inevitable or something. The lime peel trick is supposed to demonstrate his manual dexterity and fascinate you with inchoate possibilities.”