“Good for you,” Ky said. Would it shave the time enough? “Is Jim down there? And Rafe—he’ll come down and help. You can show them where all the points are?” Martin, too, but she might need his help with the mines.

“Yes, Captain. Some of them are kind of hard to get to—”

“But you can wiggle in. Fine. Quincy—”

“Yes—” That from a different station, obviously.

“Toby’s done part of the work already, he says. Located all the ones that need changing and put out the components needed. Time saved?”

“Maybe an hour, maybe more,” Quincy said. “You’re trusting a fourteen-year-old kid?”

“Quincy—it’s that or nothing. We don’t have seven hours; we might have five and a half. He found the problem; he went partway to solving it. I have to go with him.”

“Right. I’m pulling your crates now—”

“And I’m sending Rafe down to do the software changes. Give Toby whoever’s free and let him lead them to the locations.”

Rafe had already left when she turned around. Lack of initiative wasn’t his problem, either. “Lee, you have the bridge; I’ve got to go check out those mines myself. I bought the kind we studied in the Academy; if they’re glitched I know how to fix them.” She hoped. If it was something simple like an unattached connection. The other mines, the ones MacRobert had sent, were more specialized.

Stella was waiting between the bridge and the recreation area. “How bad is it, and what can I do?”

“Very bad, and if you’ve got the expertise with software, you can go down to Engineering and help Rafe.”

“Osman—?”

“A grudge against our parents. I wonder if he’s the real reason Vatta’s under attack—though his grudge sounds very personal. He could have hit Vatta without involving ISC. But he wants our parents’ children in particular. He doesn’t know you’re here, or Toby. And won’t. Come on—I have to go check out something.”

Chapter Nineteen

The row of mines looked eerily like those laid out on the deck of her Academy class on defensive ordnance maintenance procedures. Then there had been only fifteen, one per study group of four, and those had been unarmed. Were these the same, only deadly? Or were they as useless as Osman said the defensive suite was? The bulbous forward end, with its navigational circuitry, and the plump cylinder holding the explosives behind—each, she was relieved to note, with the proper plastic guard inserted to prevent accidental detonation—the knurled section that could be unscrewed to allow a variety of propulsive and attitude adjustment components, depending on need. These came with the basics only: self-contained reaction engine and simplest of the attitude adjustment components. Ky had not been able to afford the extras. Still, a rock could destroy a spaceship if the product of mass and acceleration came to enough force; her instructors had been clear about that.

“Martin, how familiar are you with these things?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, ma’am, but it’s been years since I armed or disarmed one. I know what they are, but ordnance wasn’t ever my specialty.”

That was a disappointment. “You’d better go help reinstall the defensive suite, then,” she said. “I’ll work on these.”

Ky loaded the instruction tab into her hand display, and was reassured to find that what she thought she should do first was in fact what she should do first. She pulled out the bundle of safety cords that had come in the COMMAND PACKET carton, freed one, and slipped its magnetic clip into a slot on the detonation control panel before removing the plastic guard that had served the same function. Now that mine couldn’t detonate, no matter what mistakes she made during the examination and programming. She red-corded all of them first, then opened the navigational compartment of the first. Another glance at the instruction manual refreshed her memory; the mine’s innards still looked familiar, and all the parts that should be there, were… A purple-coated wire caught her eye. It should have been attached… there. She clipped it in place, and opened the next control panel. The same purple-coated wire to reattach. Very simple sabotage, easy to fix if you were looking for something wrong. Did that mean she was missing something subtler? She hoped not. She didn’t have time to disassemble each completely. Another look at the instruction manual. Attitude adjusters, main engine controls, each with one disabling wrong connection. She glanced at the chronometer. Ten minutes gone. Ten times twenty-one was two hundred ten minutes. Too long—she had to move faster. But carefully.

And how was she going to place them without Osman or his allies noticing? All very well to place what amounted to explosive rocks in the enemy’s path, but that required accuracy. If their drives were on, they’d be detected, could be avoided. She didn’t have enough to create a broad barrier behind the ship. She needed a way to get them away from her ship that Osman couldn’t detect…

She had four of them done when Lee called down from the bridge. “He’s hailing us again.”

“He can wait,” Ky said.

“He’s offering the crew their lives if we overpower you, and a reward if we deliver you alive.”

“So are you going to take it?” Ky asked.

Lee snorted. “Not me, Captain. I don’t believe him.”

“You don’t have to tell him that,” Ky said. “If he thinks he’s got a taker, he might tell his friends to hold their fire.”

“I thought of that, but I didn’t want to do it without asking.”

“Do it,” Ky said. “Every minute helps.” Even as she talked, her fingers raced over the tasks… open a hatch, find the loose connection, reattach, check that other components were normal, close and seal, open the next… “And if he closes in… maybe we get a new hull.”

“Suits?”

Ky paused, hands still for a moment. Their suits might save them… or condemn them to a slow death outside the ship. They’d be clumsier in suits… “Not quite yet,” she said. “But tell me if he closes, and be sure you don’t let him know you’re doing it.”

“Right, Captain. Uh… I’ll need another crewmember to act the part of mutineer. Who should I get? Rafe?”

“Not Rafe,” Ky said instantly. Osman would see Rafe for what he was, and while he might believe that Rafe would turn on her, he would not trust anything Rafe said. Her mind flicked through the personnel files. Alene? Sherry? Mitt? Beeah? No, Osman might recognize any longtime Vatta employee. Not Martin: he was too obviously military. “Jim,” she said. “You’ll have to explain it to him; I don’t have time.”

“Will do,” Lee said.

Ky went back to the mines, surprised to find that she was already on the sixth. Her mind wanted to wander off to the best deployment again, but she dragged it back. She must not make any mistakes here and now. Sixth, seventh, eighth…

Then Lee piped down to the nearest speaker the conversation he and Jim were having with Osman.

“…just disable her,” Osman said.

“You don’t understand.” Jim’s voice sounded tense, whiny with the Belintan nasal accent. “She’s killed mutineers before. She’s dangerous.”

“So am I,” said Osman. “If you don’t get control of that ship, I’ll have to destroy it. And you. Look—she suspected trouble before. She thinks she’s got a perfectly loyal crew now—”

“And most of ’em are, I’m sure,” Lee said. “I mean… she’s not bad, exactly…”

“Do they want to live or are they happy to die loyal?” Osman asked. “Ask them that. Not all of them. That old fool Quincy I’m sure would rather burn than betray a Vatta.” His voice had acquired a sneer. “But that’s the choice. Work with me, or die. And you don’t have much time… No, leave the connection live.”

He didn’t trust Lee and Jim, and no wonder.

“I can’t do that,” Lee said. “If she comes back to the bridge, she’ll notice… she told me not to answer.”