“Whatever that is—make some more of it. It smells like exactly what I want.”

“Sure. Eggs and sausage, easy enough.”

Ky ate a full plate of eggs, sausage, potatoes, a slice of fresh melon—she wondered what that had done to the budget—and considered her schedule. She still had to get that machinery back to the station and aboard, locate the parts, have them installed, find out how to get the right ship chip installed in the beacon, get Li transferred to the Katrine Lamont, see if ISC had any bandwidth for commercial messages yet so that she could let Belinta know their tractors were, in fact, coming… oh, and the mail from home. With the clarity of a full night’s sleep, she remembered that she was not supposed to put in an implant without a neuro evaluation, with the recommendation that it not be done for six months, so she didn’t have to decide right away whether or not to put in the implant her father had sent.

When she came onto the bridge, Lee nodded to her. “Quincy’s put a stack of things on your deskcomp; you’ll need to sign off on the orders. Looks good, Captain; she found a supplier for everything we need. There’s not a current opening in any of the good refitting yards, but she says we can install the sealed unit ourselves. Insystem drive’s fuel price is up, but not impossibly high. She says everyone’s being cooperative, so we should hurry up and get out before they change their attitude.”

“Good,” Ky said. She opened her desk. Sealed unit for FTL, yes. New liner to replace the old cavitation-damaged one. Replacement for communications transmitter. Upgrade for scan—upgrade for scan? She hadn’t asked for that… but she would like it if they could afford it. Beacon repair. Replacement ship chip… unavailable.

The explanation made sense, though it was a pain. Under UCC regulations, no two ships could have the same identifier chip. Glennys Jones’ original chip couldn’t be turned in for a new chip, because it was somewhere in space, probably still in Paison’s pocket. Never mind that no one was going to find that chip… it had not been turned in, so a chip identifying the ship as Glennys Jones could not be issued, even with a replacement registration number. The Universal Commercial Code had very strict requirements; Slotter Key and Sabine Prime were both signatories to the agreements. The ship would have to be reregistered—most easily as out of Sabine Prime, with some difficulty out of Slotter Key, if the Slotter Key embassy would cooperate.

All Vatta ships carried Slotter Key registry. Ky put in a call to the Slotter Key embassy, but it was nighttime there, and it would be hours before the consul saw it. And what would she do if he refused her request? What if Captain Furman got to him first?

And what should she name the ship instead? Certainly not Mist Harbor. Finding a unique ship name wasn’t easy; the first eight or ten she tried in the database came up with the notation “unavailable: in service.” Was it even worth registering a ship that was going to be scrapped anyway?

But it was not going to be scrapped anyway. And finally she thought of a name that no one would have used yet, a name she wanted to honor. She called Quincy on the intercom.

“What?” Her chief engineer was clearly busy and not in the mood to chat.

“We need a new ship name. What about the Gary Tobai?”

A long silence. Then Quincy said, “That would do. Yeah. He’d like that.”

Ky entered it in the database, and as she expected found no match. She put a reserve tag on it with a three-day permit—surely she’d hear in three days, and she could renew the hold if she had to.

Two hours into day shift for the Slotter Key embassy—and well into second shift for Ky—she heard from the consul. “I hear you lost one of those people we sent you,” he said.

“He disobeyed orders and did something stupid,” Ky said.

“Why am I not surprised—the young blond one, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you need to fill out some forms for us. The embassy has to report all injuries and deaths of Slotter Key citizens for the D & A report. I’ll have those sent up to you. What about funeral arrangements?”

“He didn’t have anything on file with us, but one of the others told me he was a Modulan, so I thought we’d combine his service with the one for one of the other crew.”

“Sounds good. I’ll notify the family that services were held… what date?”

Ky looked at the calendar and answered in terms of the local calendar.

“You’ll be in attendance?”

“Of course.”

“Good. I’ll tell them services were held with the captain in attendance. Remains?”

“I have no idea. I was unconscious and in surgery at the time the remains were disposed of.”

“Good enough. The rest of the forms are coming up shortly. Now, what else?”

“I have to reregister the ship,” Ky said. “Vatta ships all carry Slotter Key registry. Can we do that?”

“We could,” he said, “if your senior captain in system, Captain Furman, hadn’t told me that your ship was up for scrap and Vatta would not sanction an offworld licensing fee.”

“And how much would that be?” Ky asked.

“You’re not going to like the answer,” he said.

“Which is…?”

“It’s not worth it, really. Two hundred fifty thousand credits for a ship of that mass. You can get a perfectly viable Sabine registration for one hundred thousand—it’d be fifty thousand if you were a Sabine citizen. We charge that much for out-of-system registration just to discourage people…”

Ky found her jaw on the floor and yanked it back up with an effort. “Two hundred fifty thousand for a ship chip and a piece of paper?”

“And the honor of the Slotter Key government. Yes. I said it wasn’t worth it.”

“It’s ridiculous. It’s outrageous.”

“Yes, it is. But it’s what I have on my list, so it’s what I have to do. So let me know what you want…”

Ky had no idea what reputation Sabine Prime ships had in the universe; she’d already discovered that Slotter Key might be a liability. Still, Slotter Key was her planet and her government and she felt uneasy about changing the registration to something else.

The money problem still existed. She had the money for the sealed unit, for the fuel, for resupply of the galley, but she didn’t have a spare 100,000 credits, let alone 250,000, for the new license. Another thought occurred, almost as unsettling. She called up the Sabine registration database.

Sure enough, to register the ship under the Sabine flag, it would have to undergo a full inspection and pass as sound. She called up those criteria for the ship’s size. As she’d expected the ship would not pass Sabine’s very stringent safety inspection, even with all repairs in place. She’d need to install a new communications system, new scans, a more powerful beacon… and the combined cost of these quickly surged past the cost of a Slotter Key registration. Slotter Key, on the other hand, required no inspection for offworld registrants.

Ky scrubbed at her head with both hands. Back to square one, again. Money. It was always about the money.

Back in her cabin, she noticed the stack of mail she’d laid aside the day before. She left Hal’s for last, hoping the hammering of her heart would slow before she got to it. Please, she thought, please let it be good. Aunt Grace wanted to know if she’d eaten the fruitcakes yet, and advised her to cut small, even slices if serving them to friends. Ky thought of the last fruitcake, now in the galley storage, and shook her head. It would be a long, long time before she cut into that one. She could still taste her share of the first two. Cousin Stella sent a brief note of condolence and the advice to “stick it out; everything passes.” MacRobert’s note advised her of a source for “equivalent model kits and replacement parts, of higher quality than that found in most toy stores.” Her eyebrows went up at that. She still wasn’t sure what Mac intended when he gave her a ship model with communications parts in it. Bond Tailoring had sent notice of a sale, now long past; she wondered why it had been forwarded until she saw her mother’s notation alongside one of the illustrated dresses: “It suits and they still have your measurements.”