“Damn it, we’ve faced attackers before. Our great-great-greats stood up to them and drove them off—and people learned that attacking Alkalurops was not a good idea. Even the drunk-on-heaven Jihad freaks didn’t come here.”

She turned slowly, letting her eyes make contact with the people scattered around the tables. “We may not have much, but we protect it. We protect it. Not some hireling. Not somebody with a bone to pick with someone else who just might come over here to pick that bone—and end up picking our bones.

“Alkalurops takes care of its own. We don’t ask anyone to take care of us, and we sure don’t take care of anyone else. I say take this off-world proposal and stuff it up his off-world ass.” The room erupted in cheers, just as Grace had hoped it would. She stood there, enjoying for a moment the rush that came from knowing she was doing right and a slew of people agreed with her. It was a good five minutes before Garry even tried to hammer the room to silence. But as he did hammer, she waved down the ruckus, and the room went back to quiet.

“I guess that shows a pretty solid majority supporting you,” Garry said. “Can I ask a few questions about your proposal?”

“Yes,” Grace said.

“Make damn sure they’re questions,” came from down the table, “or we may just march up there and give her that gavel.” That got the hall rumbling. Grace waved them to quiet, and most did.

“Thank you, Grace,” Garry said, sounding as though he meant it. “My question is, how do we defend ourselves? Our Legate’s dead. Most ranking Constabulary officers didn’t survive the raid.”

“We got our butts kicked,” came from the foot of the table.

“Not to put too fine a point on it,” Garry said, “but we did get our butts kicked. I haven’t heard—how did the militia do around Falkirk? Did you call it out?”

“I led it,” Grace said, “and we got our butts kicked.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I thought that with you saying we should defend ourselves, you might have been more successful.”

“No, Garry,” Grace admitted. “If there hadn’t been a hill to our rear, we’d have been massacred like everyone else. We were lucky.”

“So, are you planning on all of us getting lucky like you next time?” Dev shot at her.

Garry shushed his friend, but then looked at Grace. “He does have a point. How are we supposed to defend ourselves?”

Grace took a moment to organize her thoughts, but the experience of talking Falkirk’s town meeting through this had been solid preparation. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but when I need something I don’t have—equipment, skills, whatever—I hire it. We haven’t needed fighting skills, so we don’t have any. There are those who do. I say we hire them. Hire them to teach us how to take care of ourselves, and to fight side by side with us.”

“You think you can do that?” asked Garry. A sincere question this time.

“I was on my way to the merc camps on Galatea when I stopped in here. Falkirk is for sending a team to Galatea. Have them look over the mercenary units there and hire a cadre to train us and fight alongside us.”

“I don’t know if that’s the way the mercs work,” Garry said.

“Maybe they didn’t before, but then, we didn’t used to have raiders dropping in. Times are changing. I’ll find mercs who are ready to change with the times and train us to protect ourselves.”

“Aren’t BattleMechs different from our IndustrialMechs?” came from the Guild Master for ’Mech Sales and Service.

“Yes. We captured a hovertank at Falkirk,” Grace began.

“You captured a hovertank,” ran through the hall. At her side even Garry muttered it.

“Yes, the Navajo set traps,” she said, indicating Chato beside her, “and caught a hovertank. The thing had armor tougher than anything we have, and it had sensors that go way beyond what any of us had ever seen. Nobody said taking care of ourselves was simple or easy. But we’ve been doing it for hundreds of years. Let’s not stop now.”

Garry nodded, then spoke into the quiet. “Not to sound unwilling, but I have to ask you the same question you asked Mr. Santorini. What will this cost us?”

“And to quote him, this doesn’t come cheap. The major land owners around Falkirk promised to ante up ten percent of last year’s profits.”

And so began the hard part. Negotiations took the rest of the day and most of the night, but the next morning, when Grace, Chato and Jobe checked out of the hostel and drove out to the spaceport, she felt good. Not everyone had anted up, but a lot of money would be coming in.

As they turned toward the port after the long climb up West Canyon Road, Jim Wilson buzzed her on the Net. “Can you meet me at that hamburger joint along Spaceport Road?” he requested.

“You didn’t think I was going to let one of my trucks sit in the parking lot for the months you were gone?” he said as Jobe parked the rig next to where Wilson stood with his son.

“I couldn’t see you paying the bill for that,” Grace shot back as she got out. “I figured I’d see you before I left.”

“And you were going off-planet with just the change in your pocket?” Wilson said, raising an eyebrow. “How are you set for cash?”

Grace wasn’t broke, but she had been wondering how her credit would hold up on a long trip, what with the HPG breakdown.

“I should be able to get by,” she told him.

“Good, then maybe you won’t have to use this,” he said, producing a smart card. “This is paid in advance and issued by the First Bank of Galatea. My old man set up a couple of these on planets we did business with. I don’t think he trusted the HPG. Me, I figured he was just old-fashioned. This ought to cover the personal bills for all three of you.”

“I can’t take that,” Grace said.

“I hope you don’t say that to everything I brought,” Wilson said, “’cause not all of it’s mine. Here’s a gift from the folks along the Donga River.” He pulled out a small bag and tossed it to Jobe, who emptied it into his hand. A small fortune in cut diamonds poured out.

“Good lord,” Grace said.

“Very good,” Jobe said. “I will thank my senior wife for doing as she promised she would.”

“Huh?” Grace got out.

“Ghome said she would get donations so we could pay soldiers to defend us, soldiers to protect us.” Jobe smiled. “She told me that before I left. I told her it would not be necessary. We warriors could stand against mere raiders. You can see what she thinks of me.”

“Sound more like she wants you home,” Grace said.

“That would not be Ghome. Maybe Bhana, my second wife, but not Ghome.”

“What do you have from White River?” Chato asked. A second sack spilled jade, turquoise and emeralds. “Good; very good. My sister did not let us be shamed among the others.”

“Was I the only one who didn’t plan on buying mercs until I got my butt kicked?” Grace asked the sky.

“Include me in that fine company,” Wilson said.

“It’s been a long time,” Jobe said, “since you Irish, you Scots, went roaming on Terra, but still you walk as if nothing can defeat you. Some of us remember what it was like to be among your defeated. Now we fight side by side, but sometimes it is better to remember that you can lose. Is that not so, Chato?”

“We still sing the old songs around the winter campfires. You stay inside and watch your vids too much.”

Wilson shook his head. “Well, as much as I hate to admit it, there’s also Navajo and Donga River jewelry in the truck, enough to fill a strongbox. I’ve collected money from folks around Falkirk—enough to help with the first few months of the contract. I’m buying a major chunk of the hydrocarbons in the cargo of this DropShip. Even if the credit system is bonkers, you won’t be without some serious cash once this cargo is sold on Galatea.”

“Thanks for the help.”

“I’ve been following the goings-on at the Guild Hall for the last two days. I’d say I had the easy job. Take care out there among all those off-worlders.”