Sallyon had placed a remote surveillance station only fifteen light-seconds from its mapped jump point; Fair Kaleen no sooner cleared downjump turbulence that Ky found herself facing a Sallyon Immigration Control official onscreen.

“Sallyon inbound clearance station to arriving vessel. Confirm beacon ID, owner of vessel ID, commanding officer ID, last port of call, ansible status at last port of call. All vessels must have clearance from this station before proceeding to Sallyon Main Station.” Along with that came a datastring for the ship pilot, directing the rate of deceleration and course.

“Shipname is Fair Kaleen,” Ky said. “Owner, Vatta Enterprises. Captain, Kylara Vatta—”

“Our records show this vessel’s captain should be Osman Vatta. Explain this discrepancy.”

“Osman Vatta was a pirate,” Ky said. “He stole this ship from Vatta Transport. You should have a warning on file from Vatta repudiating ownership and responsibility for Osman Vatta—”

“We do.”

“Osman Vatta is dead,” Ky said. “I should be on your list as captain of either Glennys Jones or Gary Tobai, depending on your latest update information before the ansible troubles—”

“Er…yes.”

“This ship, Fair Kaleen, is now returned to the Vatta Transport list; in order to prevent confusion, I intend to re-register it under a new name.”

The face on the screen looked both confused and cross. “But who are you? What authority do you have?”

“I’m Kylara Vatta,” Ky said. “My father was Gerard Vatta, chief financial officer of Vatta Enterprises, which included Vatta Transport, Ltd. That list from Vatta should have included a brief bio and visual—”

“Well…yes…but what are you doing with that ship? How did you get it?”

“My cousin Stella and I have been authorized by Vatta headquarters—” If any such thing still existed. “—to reestablish Vatta trading routes and recover any Vatta ships we can locate. I also hold a letter of marque from Slotter Key, which authorizes me to take prizes. Osman is dead; this was a Vatta ship until he stole it; I have returned it to Vatta service.”

“It’s an armed vessel,” the officer said.

“Yes, of course,” Ky said. “Osman was a pirate.”

“You haven’t disarmed it.”

“No. As I said, I hold a letter of marque—”

“Your weapons must be locked down and sealed; we must inspect the seals. An inspection team will board before you dock at the station.”

“Of course,” Ky said.

“Now—what was the ansible status at Rosvirein when you left?”

“The ansibles at Rosvirein were working while we were docked there, but we left because we were informed by Rosvirein authorities that a threat existed, and we observed a ship apparently heading for their financial ansible just before transition to jump.”

“Do you have any recorded evidence of this?”

“I can make a copy of our scan log,” Ky said. “There was some exchange of fire—”

“How many invaders?”

“Three ships came through in formation; that’s when Rosvirein advised all outsystem ships at the station they must either leave or stay for the duration of whatever happened. I chose to leave; I’d been caught in trouble before, at Sabine. Rosvirein had their own ships shadowing the first three, and everyone else had been told to lock down their weapons and stay out of the way. We were a little more than a day out of Rosvirein Main Station when four more ships jumped in and fired on one of the Rosvirein defense batteries. Then one of the ships in the departing line veered off and appeared to be headed for the financial ansible. That’s all I know.”

The man grimaced. “I doubt that. Someone like you, in a ship like that…all right, I’ll give your ship provisional clearance to our main station; you’ll have to halt ten thousand kilometers out for boarding by a weapons inspection team. Resistance to boarding will be interpreted as hostile intent, and you will be subject to severe measures…is that clear?”

“I’m not going to object to your weapons team inspection,” Ky said. “I already told you that.”

“Then you will be cleared for docking, but I warn you, you had better stay out of trouble. We don’t tolerate subversives.”

“Subversives?”

“Half the rabble we get from Rosvirein are troublemakers,” the man said. “Organized crime is rife over there; pirates come and go without hindrance. You say you are legitimate but you’re in a very dubious position, Captain Vatta.”

“I’m not your enemy,” Ky said. “The pirates are my enemies; they killed my parents; they tried to destroy my family’s business.”

He didn’t respond to that, but continued. “Your ship’s navigational computer has received the assigned course data. Proceed.”

As ordered, Fair Kaleen slowed to a crawl and finally parked at zero relative velocity to the weapons inspection team’s shuttle. Ky extended the new docking tube that had been replaced along with the air lock, and aired it up; a team of eight came aboard. Sealing the weapons took almost two hours, but the inspection team, unlike the Customs officer, showed no excessive suspicion. “Welcome to Sallyon, then,” their officer said as he prepared to take his team back to their shuttle. “Local Traffic Control will guide you in.”

Onstation formalities, once they were docked, went smoothly. Clearly trade was down; the station wasn’t crowded with ships, and they had been assigned a berth in a section normally reserved for passenger liners “to balance mass,” as the stationmaster explained. Ky looked over the list of ships onstation, and was startled to notice one with Slotter Key registry: Sharra’s Gift, commanded by an N. W. Argelos. Maybe it would have news from home.


_______

The officer at the head of the ship’s gangway had a very military set to his shoulders; the crew were brisk and businesslike.

Ky walked up to the dockside barrier, gave her name, and asked to speak to the captain.

The young woman with the compad looked her up and down and called to the man at the gangway. “Visitor to see the captain.”

He came nearer. “Your business, please?”

Ky felt herself straightening even more. “My name is Ky Vatta; we just arrived from Rosvirein. I’m from Slotter Key and saw that this ship also carried Slotter Key registry. I’d like to meet with your captain to exchange information important to our system.”

“Vatta, eh? How long have you been away from Slotter Key?”

“I lifted from home on seventeen Berith, last year,” she said. “I know about the attacks on Vatta headquarters and personnel; my father—Gerard Vatta, the CFO—was killed along with my mother when our home was destroyed.”

“I see. Wait here, please; I’ll contact our captain.” He touched his temple, indicating an implant call. Ky eyed the dockside. Sharra’s Gift was onloading sealed pallets that looked remarkably like arms. “You can come aboard,” the officer said. “Captain Argelos will see you, but he can give you only a half hour.”

“Thank you,” Ky said. She nodded to the Slotter Key flag painted beside the hatch; inside, a young woman waited to lead her to the bridge.

Captain Argelos was a thickset man near her father’s age, black hair streaked heavily with white. “So you’re Gerry’s daughter,” he said, shaking his head. “That was a bad business, the attack on your family. My condolences, Captain.”

Tears stung her eyes; she blinked them back. It was the first time anyone had said the conventional words, offered the conventional sympathy. “Thank you,” she said.

He sat in silence a moment, looking to one side. Then he nodded, as if coming to some conclusion. “It has made us all nervous,” he went on. “To think that our Spaceforce could not protect our citizens on our home planet—”

“I can imagine,” Ky said.

“I don’t know—Vatta has never been part of—but are you aware of Slotter Key’s privateer program?”

“Yes,” Ky said and offered an explanation she hoped would make sense to him. “I was at the Spaceforce Academy before I joined the family business.”

“Ah,” he said. “Then you know that Slotter Key privateers operate most of the time as ordinary traders or freight carriers. Pirates never knew where we were, how many we were, or which we were. We have broad discretionary powers, and we carry sufficient weaponry to make us a match for most pirates. But now…it’s clear that something has changed, that pirates are operating in larger groups.”

“You’re telling me that you yourself are a privateer?” Ky said.

“Yes, I am,” he said. “I am trusting you with this information, to explain why, although we share the same flag, I cannot afford to be associated with you at this difficult time.” He sighed, and rubbed one hand over his hair. “When the trouble started, I wanted to offer assistance to any Vatta ship we met—serve as an escort, lend some of our personnel for security duties and the like—but my Spaceforce adviser argued against it. Strongly. We were here to protect Slotter Key shipping, I said to him, but he said that was the wrong way.”

“And what did he say was the right way?” Ky asked, keeping her voice light. Was this man’s Spaceforce adviser in league with the enemy?

“Hunting for the pirates,” he said. “Which we did. We found some, too, but they were in numbers we couldn’t match. Nor can you, Captain Vatta. It’s suicide to try. If all of us—all the Slotter Key privateers, that is—were a single fleet, it would still be risky.”

“Space warfare is always risky,” Ky said from a dry mouth. “But sometimes it’s necessary.” She drew a deep breath. “So—you have information about the way the pirates are operating now?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, I have no way to get it to Slotter Key, with the ansibles down, other than going there. Without guidance from the government my options are limited—”

“What about other privateers? Do you know where they are? What they know?” Despite herself, she could hear in her voice a rising excitement.

“No…we use commercial ansibles to communicate, the same as everyone else. Two ports back I ran into another of us, but he didn’t know any more than I did.”

“You didn’t think of working together, combining your forces?”

“Two of us against pirate fleets that might be as big as fifteen or twenty? What good would that do? If we can get in touch with Slotter Key again…when the ansibles come back up…if ISC can even do that much…” He scrubbed at his hair again, a man clearly nearing the end of his rope.

“Who’s your adviser?” Ky asked. “Maybe it’s someone I knew—”

“I don’t know if I should tell you. I’ll have to talk to him. I think I’ll just go home, see what the government says. If they want us to combine—”

“If they’re not compromised,” Ky said.

“Compromised?” His brows rose.

“You said yourself it bothered you that they weren’t able to protect citizens onplanet. What that says to me is that someone got to the government at some level. Someone wasn’t doing their job. Perhaps someone didn’t want to do their job.”

He scowled at her. “That’s—you’re asking me to believe that the government wanted Vatta attacked?”

“Not officially, no. But pressure could have been applied. What if someone knew about the change in pirate tactics, knew that Slotter Key’s insystem defense couldn’t stand against a pirate fleet, and was offered the choice—sacrifice one family, or lose everything—”

“That couldn’t…” His voice trailed away; he looked down. When he looked at her again, his eyes were troubled. “Is our local defense really that weak?”

“Ask your adviser,” Ky said. “But it’s not just Slotter Key’s problem. Ansibles are down all over; other governments may be under pressure.” She stopped, switching internal gears. “Did you ever hear of a pirate named Gammis?”

His expression changed. “Gammis? Gammis Turek? Nasty fellow, that one. Ten, twelve years ago we almost got him ourselves, but he got away. Left us a message at the next station we came to, threatening all sorts of things. I didn’t pay much attention—we’d won, after all—but I started hearing things from other captains. Two years later, one of my crew turned up missing, and four days later station police found the body. Flayed. With a recording of what had been done stuffed in the mouth. Others have had similar experiences after a run-in with him.”

“I think he’s behind this,” Ky said. “We had a renegade Vatta—a distant cousin of mine, ousted from the family. He stole one of our ships—”

“Osman Vatta,” Argelos said, nodding. “We knew about him; your family put out a bulletin years ago.”

“He came after me,” Ky said. “Vengeance on my father and uncle; I think he’s the source of the attacks on Vatta—the reason for choosing Vatta, I mean. But he wasn’t working alone. He was under someone else, and I think that someone else was named Gammis.”

“I suppose that could be,” he said. “What made you suspect Gammis?”

“After Osman died,” Ky said, “I started looking for the person behind him…”

“Osman’s dead? How did that happen?”

“I killed him,” Ky said. “Surely you recognized the ship I came in on.”

A slow flush rose to Argelos’ cheeks. “Yes, but—”

“And you must have wondered if another Vatta had gone renegade, if I was perhaps his daughter or something—”

“Not after learning you were Gerry’s daughter,” he said. “But…yes. That’s certainly what my adviser thought.”

“I can’t imagine any reason for attacking only Vattas—and attacking them so thoroughly, in so many places—other than personal grudge. At any rate, when Osman and I met up, I was able to kill him and capture his ship.”

He nodded. “Where did you have it adjudicated? Any problems with the courts?”

“I claimed it as a prize,” Ky said. His eyes widened; she grinned, enjoying his shock. “I have a letter of marque, too, Captain Argelos. I don’t know why, or how, but it was waiting for me on Lastway.”

“But Vattas have never been privateers—”

“I know. But there it is, so I took over Fair Kaleen as my prize.”

“And no one gave you trouble about it?”

She wasn’t going to talk about Garth-Lindheimer. “They weren’t too happy at Rosvirein, but they agreed it was legal. And business is business.”

“This is a dangerous time, Captain Vatta,” Argelos said. “I don’t think business as usual is a good model. I will consult with my adviser and be in contact, but do not expect much, would be my advice. I believe he would have doubts about the validity of your letter of marque, as, quite frankly, do I.” His expression made it clear that was the end of his patience.

“You can come aboard and look at it,” Ky said. “Thank you for your time, Captain Argelos. I hope to hear from you soon.”

A few hours later, Argelos contacted her and asked permission to come to her ship. Ky agreed willingly, hoping this meant a positive response. When he came aboard, his face showed no warmth.

“My Spaceforce adviser thinks you’re crazy,” Argelos said. “Just out for revenge for your parents’ deaths. I told him what you said, and he swears your letter of marque must be forged. Vattas were never privateers, he says, just as I said.”

Ky nodded to the frame on the wall. “There it is. See for yourself.”

“If you’ll pardon me…”

“Of course.”

“Let’s see, now…” Argelos was up, peering closely at the letter of marque. He had a small tube in his hand that Ky guessed was some instrument for determining the validity of the document. “Did you study much about the privateer system? How it works in practice?”

“No. Borderline pirates, is what we were told. We certainly were not told that they were an integral part of Slotter Key’s defense system. That came as a complete surprise.”

“Um. This reads just like mine. Superficially at least it seems to be the same. Impressions the right depth; ink and paper the right kind. A good forgery, if it’s not genuine. I have to wonder, though, if the government was removing protection from your family as you suggest, why it would give you a letter of marque.”

“I wondered that, too, frankly,” Ky said. “I wondered if it might be a fake, intended to get Vattas into even more trouble, but it came from a source I can hardly doubt.”

“Can you tell me what?”

“Spaceforce,” Ky said. “Someone I know personally.”

His brows went up. “Spaceforce? Are you sure?”

“Yes. The source was…unimpeachable.”

“I don’t think I understand at all,” he said. “Unless someone’s feeling guilty. Are you fully aware of all the law governing privateers?”

“No, no more than I knew about how privateers work. I hoped to find someone from home who could help me out with that. You’re the first I’ve found.”

“Hmmm. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to send you a copy of the pertinent regulations and things. But about working together—”

“Perhaps if I talked to your adviser, I could explain—”

“He wants nothing to do with you. He was quite adamant on that point; apparently he thinks some past contact would…er…contaminate, is the way he put it, any cooperative action.”

“He knew me?” Ky asked. “He was at the Academy?”

“Or on one of the training ships. I’m not sure which; he declined to say. He considers you a loose cannon, that much is certain. Overenthusiastic and not overhonest, he said. He’s only been assigned to me within the past year; my former adviser developed health problems and had to take medical leave.”

Ky immediately thought of her nemesis at the Academy, the cadet whose lies to her had caused her expulsion, but he should not have graduated yet. Who could this be?

“I don’t see that, myself,” Argelos went on. “And youngsters can mature, grow some sense. I was wild enough, in my young days. Still…I’m not ready to go against his advice.”

Ky tried again. “Sir, I still say we should work together—all the privateers—to take care of these pirates. I think it’s essential—”

“That can’t possibly work.”

“Why not?”

“Well…as I said, there aren’t enough of us. Not from Slotter Key alone, anyway. And we don’t have any way to communicate. And privateers from other systems aren’t likely to cooperate—”

Ky wondered if this was the right time to play her best card. Surely it couldn’t hurt. “We can solve the communications problem.”

His brows went up. “Really? How?”

“Captain Argelos, have you ever heard of shipborne ansibles?”

He scowled at her. “Ansibles on ships? That’s not ISC technology. Do you have any idea what kind of trouble we’d be in—?”

“The pirates have them,” Ky said. “How else do you think they coordinated their attacks? Besides, we found a number of them on Osman’s ship.”

“But the ISC will interdict our home world if we use non-ISC communications—”

“No, they won’t,” Ky said. “They haven’t been able to protect the system ansibles. That was the source of their monopoly—they could supply, and protect and maintain—that vital system. Now they’ve failed—not just in one system, and not just for a short period. It’s been over half a standard year, and dozens of systems are still cut off. Systems will have to protect themselves. They won’t care what ISC says, if they have another way to communicate.”

“Do…do these work just like system ansibles?” Clearly he was interested, leaning forward, eyes alert.

“Not exactly,” Ky said. “ISC has set things up so that lightspeed communications can interface with only those system ansibles installed by ISC—ansibles manufactured with preset origination codes specific to each customer.”

“Then they’re useless—”

“No. What it means is that we can’t connect directly to system communications webs with these ansibles, but ship-to-ship communication is quite possible, as is ship-to-system-ansible if the system ansible is functioning. It’s a parallel system.”

“How hard is it to install? To operate?”

“Osman’s ship had one installed,” Ky said. “We haven’t had to do an installation, but I do have a manual for both installation and operation.”

“I would worry about detection,” he said. “How do you know that this device isn’t transmitting your whereabouts to the pirates? System ansibles have a locator code.”

“We’re still alive,” Ky said. “I imagine that if the pirates knew where my ship was, they’d have attacked me by now.”

“Except that you killed Osman, you say. That might give them pause.”

“Not if they’re as strong as you say,” Ky said. “You said they could gather ten or fifteen ships at a time; no one ship would stand a chance against those odds.”

“What’s the difference between their protection racket and what you propose?”

“A true interstellar space navy subordinate to civilian governments? Quite a lot. The pirates are saying Pay us or we’ll attack you. I’m saying Fund a space navy and they’ll attack the pirates or anyone else.

“But both cost the citizens directly.”

“Sure they do. But in one case the citizens get to choose who protects them, and how. They agree on price beforehand.”

“You make sense, Captain Vatta, but I still…” His voice trailed away. “I’m still bound to listen to my adviser. I can try to talk to him, but…I don’t know.”

Ky sensed that she had pushed him as much as she could; she hoped he would come to agree with her later.

“Thank you for coming, Captain Argelos,” she said. “I understand your concerns, and hope we can continue this conversation another time.”

His face showed relief; he shook her hand before leaving.


_______

A few days later, Ky had just finished her daily inspection of the Environmental section when an alarm called her forward.

“What’s happened?” Ky asked, coming onto the bridge.

“Empire Line’s Princess Philomena just arrived insystem, squalling like a banshee,” Rafe said. “Apparently the pirates hit Bissonet and have taken over the government—blew through the planetary space militia as if they weren’t there. Threatened to scorch the cities if the government didn’t give in. They’re imposing tariffs and blowing up ships that don’t cooperate. Just like they did to Vatta, they’re saying.”

“As we expected,” Ky said. “Did they have a name for themselves?”

“The Deepspace Benevolent Association. Commanded by—again no surprise—one Gammis Turek.” He nodded at the screen. “This is what he looks like, they think.”

He was tall, dark, and missed handsome by only a small margin.

“He’s probably charming,” Ky said. “Rogues often are.”

“Ouch,” Rafe said, glancing at her and away. “Actually, they’re saying he’s terrifying. Can go from calm to hysterical in a nanosecond, and kills on whim.”

“Ummm.” Ky studied the picture. He looked older than she was, younger than Osman or her father. He wore an outfit that looked like leather or a good synthetic, the deep burgundy jacket decorated with strips of metal. Probably bonded to personal armor. The pants, an even darker shade not quite black, had a burgundy stripe up the outer leg. Black boots, of course. One hand gloved, with metallic strips that were probably useful in a bar fight. The other bare, showing a tattoo, the design half hidden in this view. “He’s certainly dressing the part, isn’t he? Big bad pirate chief.”

“I suppose. Yes. Only wants a hat with a feather.”

“He’ll have it on his helmet,” Ky said. “Flamboyance is useful, of course.”

“Yes. There’s only one vid clip of any of his people…” Rafe called up the next image. Turek was standing, arms crossed, while two men in burgundy shipsuits seemed to be searching someone, and a third read from a list.

“Same color, different fabric,” Ky said.

“I never knew you were so interested in clothes,” Rafe said.

“Clothes are data,” Ky said. “He’s chosen those clothes for a reason; if we understand that, we know something about him. We can see, for instance, that he prefers a showier material for his outfit than they wear. No problems with privilege, I’d say. The color—that’s trickier. If we knew where he was from, what his background was, that would help. Colors mean things to people, but not the same thing to all people.”

“Red without having to flaunt it?” Hugh suggested.

“He’s not worried about flaunting,” Ky said. “He’s a peacock for vanity, I’d say. No, the burgundy has a reason. Red plus. Fire and smoke? No, he’d go more orange. Red and black, maybe…danger and death. Interesting.”

“I don’t see what difference it makes what he wears,” Martin said. “What he does tells us who he is, what he’s really like.”

“What he wears tells us who he thinks he is,” Ky said. “Military psych class—understand your enemy’s viewpoint.”

“Give me enough weapons and I don’t need to understand my enemy,” Martin said. “Just blow ’em away.”

“Understand them, and they’ll put themselves in your sights,” Ky said. “Much more efficient.”

“I suppose,” Martin said, grinning.

“I would not have suspected you of subtlety, Captain,” Rafe said. The others gave him a sharp glance, but Ky laughed.

“Hardly that, Rafe. Simple good straightforward military analysis.”

“Be that as it may, what are you going to do about this fellow?”

“Kill him,” Ky said cheerfully. “When we can, at least.”


_______

The Captains’ Guild buzzed like a kicked beehive. Insystem captains, long-haul captains, all talking at once by the noise level. Ky signed in with the reception clerk. “Any chance of a table for one in the dining hall?”

“Another hour, then yes, Captain Vatta.”

“Very good. Put me on the list, please.” She glanced around; the bar was jammed—clearly no seats there.

“Captain Vatta!” There, across the reception area, she caught sight of Captain Argelos. “A word, if you please.”

She noticed as she moved toward him that a convenient lane opened up for her. No one else spoke to her, but they were obviously aware of her presence. No wonder: he had called aloud.

“You’ve heard about the Philomena, of course…,” he began.

“Yes. The whole Bissonet system attacked, the government falling…”

“What you said before…you were serious?”

“About privateers combining to make common cause? Yes, completely.” Around them, conversations had muted; she was aware of that, as if she could see ears elongating and waving in the breeze.

“Captain Bisdin says the pirates had a whole fleet. Fourteen ships at least. There’s no way one of us could meet that alone and survive.”

“Ummm.” Ky made the noise just to encourage him to keep talking.

“It’d take more of us…more than just you and me.”

“Yes, it would,” Ky said.

“I don’t see how…we don’t even know where the others are. And I don’t know how to fight a fleet action.”

“I do,” Ky said.

His eyes widened. “You—? You expect to command?”

Now a circle of silence surrounded them; she could hear faint shushing noises toward the edges of the room. This was not the best moment to publicize her plan.

“Perhaps we should discuss this somewhere else,” Ky said.

Argelos flushed and his mouth tightened. Then he said, “All right. Where?”

“I’m dining here, when a table opens up. After that, you’d be welcome to visit my ship.”

“We could share a table,” he suggested.

Was that too eager? Was he perhaps more than another privateer captain? She smiled at him anyway. “I make it a rule not to discuss business during meals,” she said. “But aside from that, we could indeed share a table.”

“Excuse me,” said a woman who’d been a few feet away. “You’re one of the Vatta family?”

“Yes,” Ky said, glad of the interruption.

“Was your ship attacked like other Vatta ships?”

“Yes,” Ky said. “More than once—but unsuccessfully.”

“She claimed Osman Vatta’s ship as a prize,” Argelos put in.

“Osman was the family black sheep,” Ky said, answering the question not yet asked. “Apparently he joined the same group that attacked Bissonet, and we suspect he’s the one who made the Vatta family their first target, in revenge for being kicked out.” Heads nodded. Family conflict and vengeance were familiar experiences. “So he attacked me, and I managed to defeat him and take his ship.”

“What about the ship you had before?” someone asked from the back of the circle.

“My cousin took it over,” Ky said. “She had a contract to complete elsewhere.”

“Do you think Vatta’s no longer the target?” the woman asked.

“I think everyone’s the target,” Ky said. “All of us. These pirates want to run things for themselves, have everyone paying tribute to them. Our system governments wouldn’t cooperate and fund a real space navy, so there’s no interstellar force to deal with them.”

“So it’s hopeless.” That was a stout older man. “We can’t fight ’em; we might just as well pay what they demand.”

“I didn’t say it was hopeless,” Ky said. This was not how she’d planned to launch her proposal, but it was a moment to seize.

“I say it is,” the man said. Heads turned to watch him. He shrugged. “They have more ships, more weapons. Bad enough when we met them only out in deep space, a long way from our ports. But if they can replace governments, destroy the little protection we had insystem, then there’s no way we can move cargo without being seized and plundered.”

“One government isn’t the whole sector,” Ky said. “The same thing that’s kept us from having a real interstellar space navy makes it hard for them—they have to overthrow each system separately—”

“That won’t be a problem,” the man said. “My government was already worried just by the attacks on Vatta. Now, hearing that a whole system was overthrown, they’ll be looking for ways to ‘reach an accommodation’ as soon as possible.”

“Not my government,” said the woman who had spoken first. “Kessel-Tinian doesn’t cut deals with anybody.” She glared at the man, who glared back.

“Are you saying my government—”

“Enough,” Ky said. Somewhat to her surprise, they all fell silent and looked at her. “We won’t solve this by bragging or by giving up—or by waiting for our governments to do it for us. They can’t even communicate with one another while the ansibles are down.”

“Well, you surely don’t think we can do anything, do you?” asked a tall man. “We’re just civilians; our ships don’t have any weapons—”

“There are merchanters with armed ships,” Ky said. “Think about it.”

“Privateers!” the man said. “As bad as the pirates, the way I see it. Probably in league with them.”

“Not all of them,” Ky said. “I’m a privateer, and I’m not on their side.”

Silence again. Then, “You?”

“Me.”

“So…Slotter Key is standing up to the pirates? Then how come you Vattas were attacked?”

“Slotter Key sends out privateers—you all know that. That may be why a Slotter Key family was attacked. Bissonet doesn’t license privateers, so we don’t know whether the pirates would have insisted on taking them over.”

“But how do you think we can fight back? Without weapons, without our governments supporting us?”

“Yes—is there really any hope?”

Ky looked around. It was absurd, the way they were watching her, as if some miraculous answer would appear on her forehead. “Of course there’s hope,” she said. “But it won’t be easy…”

“You have a plan?”

“I have ideas,” Ky said. “I’m not going to tell you everything about them here. One or more of you may be working with the pirates, after all.”

A hiss of indrawn breath, and the crowd around her shifted, faces turning to eye their neighbors.

“You think one of us would help them?” That was the angry bald man.

Ky shrugged. “Someone who’s been threatened, then offered immunity for spying on other captains…where better than the Captains’ Guild, after all, for picking up all the gossip? We’re not all saints, are we?” A chuckle at that. “So I’ll tell you I think there’s hope—the pirates aren’t that strong yet, though if we wait until they’ve coerced a lot of systems into helping them they will be. I won’t tell you more about my plans, not in an open gathering like this. But if you want to know more, talk to me quietly.” She smiled at them, then said, “Excuse me, please.”


_______

The next morning, she was called to the stationmaster’s offices.

“Captain Vatta, we have concerns.” The stationmaster, two other men in civilian dress, and a woman in the uniform of the station police sat around the table of a small conference room. “Sit down, please.” The chair indicated put her in bad light, but Ky sat down anyway.

“Concerns?”

“Yes. We understand that you are talking to ship captains about forming a fighting force.”

Ky said nothing, but raised her brows.

“These rumors about pirate fleets—I’m sure they’re exaggerated,” the stationmaster said.

“You have contrary evidence?” Ky said.

“Well…we’ve never seen a pirate force larger than two ships, maybe three. Our local patrol ships are more than a match for them. We haven’t had a successful pirate attack in decades.”

“Do you think Princess Philomena’s captain is lying? He seems a very honest person to me,” Ky said.

“Not lying,” the stationmaster said. “But he doesn’t have your background of military training. Whatever happened there, I’m sure he magnified it in his fear. Don’t you find that happens more often than not?”

“Underestimating a threat causes as much trouble,” Ky said. “Have you looked at Captain Bisdin’s scan data?”

“No. It’s only a civilian tradeship; the scan isn’t as detailed and accurate—”

“I have,” Ky said. Silence. They looked at each other. “There were indeed fourteen ships involved in the attack. Five others were insystem at the time. Three of those innocent ships were destroyed while Bisdin was in scan range. Captain Bisdin made it here; he doesn’t know what happened to the fifth ship.” She looked around the table. They were all a shade paler.

“But…but maybe that’s all they wanted, a secure base—” That was one of the men.

The police officer turned on him. “All they wanted? Of course it’s not all they wanted. You can’t think they’ll stop—”

“We can hope so,” the man said. “I mean, it’s too bad for Bissonet, but why would they need more than one system?”

Ky and the police officer locked gazes a moment; Ky shook her head. “You could ask that about humans in general. But more specifically, if their goal is control of interstellar shipping—an enormously profitable business—then interdicting one system at a time, while communications are down, would be the way to go about it. With the resources from such trade, they could rule the known universe.”

“But surely—” the man began. The stationmaster held up his hand, and the man subsided.

“Captain Vatta, even if you’re correct and there is evidence for concerted pirate activity…these are criminals. They won’t hold together for long. There’s no need for civilians to take on unauthorized military functions—”

“There’s every need,” Ky said. “Interstellar trade depends on secure ports of call, good communications, and minimal piracy in deep space. We are out of communication for days to weeks at a time in FTL flight, so that even when the ansible net is working, we need to know that the space we’re coming to is secure from piracy. You don’t know—none of us knows—where this pirate fleet will attack next. We don’t know how many agents they may have on various worlds, who might cooperate with them. If they pick off the busiest ports, gain control of those governments, interstellar trade will collapse—and if it does, pirates will control your supply lines. When they control your supply lines, they control you.”

“That’s a scary scenario,” the stationmaster said. “I still think it’s unlikely. And I have concerns about civilians trying to take on military functions. It’s too dangerous, a lot of untrained civilians putting weapons on their ships and going out to hunt pirates. Stirring up trouble, it seems to me, and the perfect way to get a lot of innocent people killed. Speaking as chair of the council, I want it stopped.”

Ky bit back the angry words she wanted to say and tried instead to gauge the reactions of the rest.

“We have insystem patrol,” the police officer said slowly. “We haven’t had problems with pirates, and they’d find us a tough nut to crack. I admit a fleet of fourteen might stretch our resources, but I’m confident that we could handle it.”

“If the system ansibles are still down, you’ll be limited to lightspeed ship-to-ship communications,” Ky said. “The pirates have shipboard ansibles.”

“That’s another thing,” the stationmaster said. “You’ve told people this, but no one’s ever heard of such things. What makes you think they’re real?”

“The ship I captured has one,” Ky said. “Complete with operating manual. Osman was a pirate, and in his data files I found evidence that he was working with—or for—a group headed by the same man Bisdin reported as the leader of the pirate fleet.”

“It’s absurd,” one of the men said. “Ansibles are huge—massive—there’s no way to fit one on a ship. The power supply alone—”

“Nevertheless,” Ky said. “There’s one on my ship.”

“I don’t care,” the stationmaster said, putting both hands flat on the table. “This disruptive behavior has to stop, Captain Vatta. Even if the pirate threat is real, your course of action is not the right way to meet it. You’re panicking people on this station; we’re swamped with complaints and demands. We can strengthen our local force; we can hire mercenaries. We do not need—and will not put up with—a bunch of rogue traders trying to pretend they’re a military force. If you persist in your attempt to persuade and organize the other captains, I will insist that you leave this system—or you will be arrested.”

“I see,” Ky said.

“No more meetings, no more clandestine visits to your ship—”

“Clandestine?” Ky let her voice express surprise. “There was no secrecy because there was no rule against such visits—”

“All right…but from now on they would be clandestine. Unless you are actively trading merchandise—nonmilitary merchandise—I want you off this station in forty-eight hours. And in that forty-eight hours I want no more of your rabble-rousing, is that clear?”

“Quite clear,” Ky said. Anger roiled her stomach. How could they be so stupid? How could they not understand the traders’ point of view, when they depended so on trade?

“You will be accompanied by a member of the station police, to ensure that you obey these strictures.” The stationmaster glanced at the police officer, who looked less happy than before but nodded.

The meeting ended on that note; Ky managed to keep her temper in check until she was out the door.