“We’ll try that,” Ky said. “Is there going to be any problem with water? Does changing the diet that much affect recycling efficiency or anything?”

Alene shook her head. “No… water’s not the limiting factor, nor is air. Just food.”

“There’s one more thing,” Ky said. “I’ll donate my great-aunt’s fruitcakes. Three of ’em, each an easy two kilos. I don’t know what their caloric value is, but you can chew on a piece for a long, long time.”

“Some people like fruitcake,” Alene said, brightening. Apparently she was one of those people.

“Those people can eat it,” Ky said. “And I’ll bet they never had my aunt’s fruitcake.”

Scan was empty. Ky would have been glad to see any ship but none appeared. Her stomach growled and she growled back at it. So far nothing they’d done to the ship’s beacon made it work; they were still receding from Sabine Prime as a ghost ship. On anyone else’s scan they would show up only as an object in motion. The thought occurred then that some other ship might also be moving out here with no beacon. That was not comforting; it was too easy to run into what you didn’t know existed. Day after day… she had never been hungry that long in her life, and it was worse for her passengers. The only good thing about being that hungry was that she couldn’t sleep… because sleep brought the nightmares: Gary’s eyes staring into hers the moment before he died, the smell of blood and death, the terror…

Icons appeared on the screen all at once: six ships, all identified as ISC. Ky tried to estimate range, but this far out from Prime she had no ranging model. An hour later, another four ships appeared on scan; she had no way to tell if they were an actual hour behind the first group, or had entered the system a light-hour farther from her. These also carried an ISC icon.

“Well, our rescue is here, if we can get their attention,” Ky said. She looked around at the bridge crew, who looked like she felt. Nobody cheered. “They may or may not know about us, but either way it would be helpful to be able to talk to them. We have got to figure out a way to generate a signal out of this system.”

“We need a real com tech,” Beeah said.

“We have real com techs among our passengers, but can we trust them?” Quincy asked.

“Offer them a real meal,” Beeah said. “Even a piece of fruitcake.” He hadn’t liked the fruitcake either. Alene kept insisting it wasn’t so bad, but they had cut up only two of them.

Ky mimed gagging. “That might make them sabotage it. Still, it’s in their interest to cooperate. The sooner we’re found, the sooner we can feed everyone.” She hoped that was true. “I suppose I’d better go talk to them.”

“Not alone,” Quincy said. “You can’t go in there alone.”

“No, I know that,” Ky said. “Mehar, Beeah, you’ll come with me. Bring the pistol bows. Look fierce.” They looked more grumpy than fierce; she hoped that would suffice.

The captives, seated on the deck, looked pale and miserable. She hated herself for that, but at least they were all—except Paison, Kristoffson, and Paison’s mate—alive. “Here’s the situation,” Ky said. “ISC just dropped a fleet into the system. They can’t come help us, however, because Paison and his little clique disabled our beacon and we haven’t been able to fix it. That puts our chance of rescue pretty low; on active scan we’ll show up as a dead ship unless someone comes in really close, and they probably have other priorities. It could be weeks before they find us, if they do, and the rations run out in another few days. So if one of you has the expertise to fix the beacon, this would be a good time to tell me, and do that job honestly.”

Silence. They stared back at her as if she’d spoken to them in an alien language. “We really are running out of rations—you’re not just punishing us?” That was a short, balding man toward the back of the group.

Ky shook her head. “No. Why would I do that? You weren’t all in on it anyway, and making you hungry wouldn’t be the way to make you friendly. Paison and company did us all a bad turn. I don’t know what his plan was—”

A hand went up. “I do.”

Ky felt a prickle down her backbone. “And you are—?”

“I was his number-two com officer. You killed the number one. I wasn’t supposed to be in on it but—he knew all about the ansible attacks. He wasn’t about to wait around here until ISC showed up…”

“Where did he think he could go in a ship like this with no FTL drive?” Ky asked.

The man looked even paler; his skin glistened in the lights as those around him turned to look at him. “I—I don’t think I should say.”

“You’d better say, Corson, or we’ll break your stupid neck,” growled the man next to him. “If you get us killed—”

“And you are?” Ky said.

“Hemphurst, first officer off Balknas Brighteyes. Idiots have caused enough trouble. Corson, you cooperate or else.”

Corson was clearly scared of the big man, but still scared of something else.

“Paison’ll—or his group’ll—get me if I tell.”

“They aren’t here and I am,” Hemphurst growled. “I don’t want to die of starvation because you’re scared they’ll come after you… If you’re already dead, what difference does it make?”

Corson looked around nervously.

“What, you think some of ’em are here?” Hemphurst asked.

“I—I don’t know,” Corson said. “I don’t think so, but—there’s still people from our crew and the Empress. What if one of them—”

“Well, you know I’m here,” Hemphurst said. “And I meant it—you help us get out of this, or I will kill you and then we’ll have one more ration…”

“All right…” Corson looked down, then up. “I don’t know all of it. But I do know the Marie wasn’t the only ship Paison had insystem. Why the mercs didn’t find the other, I don’t know—it must’ve been stealthed somehow. But anyway—Paison was regional boss for the Barrenta gang. Posed as an ordinary trader, had a respectable history as cover. He had some kind of deal with the government here; the only people he was afraid of were ISC. He knew about the ansible attack: who did it, and why. And the Empress Rose was in on it, too. Kristoffson was one of ’em—nobody ever suspected anything of a passenger liner from a line like that. And he was going to rendezvous with his other ship, change the beacon on this one, put an FTL drive in it, and…”

“Kill us all,” Hemphurst finished. “He was a damned pirate, in other words.”

“Kind of,” Corson said.

“Which means you’re a pirate—”

“No! No, I’m not. I just—I found out something when I was on Empress, and they grabbed me and threatened me and then stuck me on Marie. There wasn’t anything I could do. They watched me all the time—I was just like a prisoner—”

“So what do you know about beacons?” Ky said, interrupting what promised to become a verbal game between Corson and Hemphurst. “Do you know how to fix them?”

“I—don’t know,” Corson said. “I know some things to try.”

“Then you had better come try them,” Ky said. “Hemphurst is not the only one willing to kill you if you don’t cooperate.” She met Hemphurst’s gaze; he nodded at her. “And as for the rest of you—anyone else have any expertise in this area?”

“Com Tech Sawvert, Aspergia,” said a woman on the far side. “I don’t know what’s been done to the beacon, but I have done beacon maintenance. I might be able to help.”

“Good. You, too, then.”

Corson and Sawvert made an odd pair, Ky thought, as she escorted them back through the maintenance passages with Mehar and Beeah close behind them. Corson so clearly nervous about retaliation from Paison’s people, and Sawvert, despite the effects of hunger, eager to get to work. At the access hatch, Ky stopped them. “Here—before you go to work, have some lunch.” It was only a sandwich apiece and a thin slice of fruitcake.

“Thanks, Captain,” Sawvert said. Corson nodded; half his sandwich was already in his mouth.