It was easier, this time, to crack the cover on the beacon unit, and this time Ky knew exactly which piece to jiggle to disable and enable the beacon. Unfortunately, that still meant wriggling into the cramped compartment in an awkward position that she knew would make her neck and back hurt: she wanted the beacon connected to its running power system. She tested it, sending the ages-old triple-three distress signal, which Lee easily picked up on their own scan equipment. In the meantime, Quincy had written down a simple letter-number list.

“It works in principle,” Ky said. “Now for a message.” She scribbled down the simplest thing she could: the ship’s name, her name, the number of personnel aboard. “Read that to me one letter at a time,” she said to Quincy. “Have Lee check that that’s what I actually send.”

It seemed to take a long time to work through that first simple message, and Ky realized that she should have had someone else do that while she composed a longer one with more details. She wriggled back out, and turned to Sawvert.

“Repeat that message, and I’ll be working on more.”

Back on the bridge, she glanced at the scan. An ISC beacon was closer now, but she had no way to tell how close. No odd beacons, so if Paison did have stealth ships in the system, they weren’t revealing themselves yet. Could ISC pick them up? She shook her head. She had a lot to tell the ISC or whoever got her message, and it needed to be concise and clear.

“Glennys Jones, Captain K. Vatta, boarded by members of the Mackensee Military Assistance Corporation, contracted with MMAC to care for passengers…” No, strike passengers. “… captains and senior officers of other civilian ships interned by MMAC.” What was most important? “Arly Paison, captain of Marie, mutinied, destroyed transmitter, damaged beacon, accused as pirate by former crew, stealth ships in system, involved in ansible attack. Jake Kristoffson, captain of Empress Rose, with Paison. One crew dead, three mutineers dead. Rations low. Insystem drive inoperable.”

She handed that to Quincy for Sawvert to transmit. Minutes passed; she watched as the outgoing message came up, letter by letter, on her desk. While it was still in progress, the first response came in.

“Ship with beacon Mist Harbor now claiming identity Glennys Jones: explain discrepancy in ship ID, passenger totals. Mackensee Military Assistance Corporation reported total personnel aboard plus three to your number.”

“I just answered that,” Ky said to the bridge crew. “What’s that put us, about six lights away?”

“Yup. But I think they’re closing. They’ve got something that can microjump.” Lee grinned back at her. “I think we might make it after all.”

“I wish I knew where Paison’s ships were,” Ky said. Then she went on with more information. A list of personnel aboard, and their original ship assignment. A brief statement of her own contracts with Belinta and the Mackensee Military Assistance Corporation. The course they’d been on when they dumped cargo; the beacon ID of that cargo. A more detailed accounting of events aboard, starting with their departure from Prime’s orbital station. She was uncomfortably aware that Paison’s ships could be listening in, and might choose to avenge the death of their boss. If Corson was telling the truth, something she wasn’t sure about.

More responses came in from the ISC ship, as they received the messages. Questions, mostly, many of them she could not answer. Who had Paison’s local system contacts been? She had no idea. How long had Paison been in the system? She didn’t know. How long had he and Kristoffson been connected? She didn’t know that, either. Did she know if the Imperial Spacelines was implicated in that connection? Of course she didn’t. Had she questioned everyone concerned? Had she had autopsies performed on the deceased crew and passengers?

“They’ll be asking if I filled out some form in quadruplicate next,” Ky said. “They should have a list from the mercenaries of who was put aboard, and already know that forensic pathologist is not one of the specialties listed. Of course we didn’t do autopsies. We know exactly what killed them. I killed them.”

That question didn’t show up for another hour, during which they asked a host of other questions Ky couldn’t answer. She hoped they’d start offering her some useful information soon, such as when they planned to intercept and remove her passengers, something like that.

“Wonder who that is,” Lee said. Ky looked at the longscan display, where two new beacons had lit up.

“That’s an odd place to downjump into,” Ky said. “What’s the downjump turbulence give us?”

“No downjump turbulence. It’s like he was running quiet, beacon off, and then turned it on.”

“Like us, in fact. And we know who else in the system can manipulate beacons.”

“Going to warn them?” Corson asked.

Ky considered. “The ISC will have figured it out on their own. Still, we can tell them what we suspect.” She scribbled out another message and sent it down for the others to transmit. Her stomach growled again. With the ISC in the system, she was reasonably sure they wouldn’t be left to starve, but she still had a shipful of passengers and not enough food.

“Another arrival, if it is an arrival.” That one was clearly a down-jump transition, the scan blurry and finally steadying to show the now-familiar Mackensee beacons.

He was in the shower when his skullphone went off. Gerard Vatta turned off the water and answered; it had to be high priority.

“Gerry, we located your daughter Ky, and she’s alive.”

He almost fainted, leaned on the shower wall, and blinked hard to steady his vision.

“She’s had some problems; we don’t know the whole story yet, but she’s fine and the ship’s still whole. I’m sure you’ll want to send someone—have you already ordered a ship in?”

“Yes… Furman with Katrine Lamont is closest. He’ll be there in a day or so, if I’ve got the jump span right. Are the ansibles back up?”

“No, and won’t be for days. Whoever blew them did a thorough job. We’ll put in narrow-channel emergencies, but only for official use—at least we’ve got more bandwidth than pinbeams now, but not much. Look, it’s irregular, but will you accept a credit line for her until your ship gets there? We’ve frozen monetary transfers in and out of the system, and between planets for the present. We can have our lawyers talk to yours tomorrow, but I thought you’d want to know now.”

“Thanks, yes, I will accept it. Whatever she needs, Vatta will stand for it.”

He had to tell the rest of the family. He turned the water back on, finished his shower, and came light-footed out to dress. Myris, sipping breakfast tea, turned at his footsteps. “You heard something? Something about Ky?”

“She’s alive. All I know for now, but it’s enough.”

“Stavros?”

“Doesn’t know yet. I’m about to call.” Normally he hated using the skullphone for calls out; he swore it made his sinuses buzz. But this was special.