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    Iron Hammer Boxed Set: Iron Hammer, #8.5
    Iron Hammer Boxed Set: Iron Hammer, #8.5
    Iron Hammer Boxed Set: Iron Hammer, #8.5
    Ebook1,937 pages55 hoursIron Hammer

    Iron Hammer Boxed Set: Iron Hammer, #8.5

    By Cameron Cooper

    ()

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    • Space Exploration

    • Space Travel

    • Artificial Intelligence

    • Survival

    • Leadership

    • Military Science Fiction

    • Fish Out of Water

    • Chosen One

    • Found Family

    • Space Marines

    • Cloning Blues

    • Lost Colony

    • Space Pirates

    About this ebook

    All eight novels of the Iron Hammer space opera series and a bonus short story.

     

    Danny Adela, once known as the Imperial Hammer, now called the Iron Hammer, fights for survival of the Carinad worlds.


    The underdog Carinad forces face an enemy who knows nothing but war, whose culture is built upon the glory of battle.  As the Slavers fall upon the vulnerable Carinad worlds, Danny and her allies work to find a way out of the no-win scenario they face…

    The Iron Hammer series:
    1.0: Galactic Thunder
    2.0: Stellar Storm
    3.0: Planetary Parlay
    4.0: Waxing War
    5.0: Ruled Out
    6.0: Stranger Stars
    7.0: Federal Force
    7.1: Insanity is Infectious
    8.0: Redline Rebels

    Space Opera Science Fiction Omnibus
    __

    Praise for The Iron Hammer Series:

    Wow, what a ride.

    A complex and interesting series. Deep complex, wonderful world building and character development.

    …it was what happened to the cast of characters that made this series so enthralling for me.

    …it was one helluva run. The ending is an extraordinary coming together of the people.

    An incredible set of stories. There is nothing else out there like this.

    A sprawling epic space opera spanning many long decades
    __

    Cameron Cooper is the author of the Imperial Hammer series, an Amazon best-selling space opera series, among others. 

    Cameron tends to write space opera short stories and novels, but also roams across the science fiction landscape. Cameron was raised on a steady diet of Asimov, Heinlein, Herbert, McCaffrey, and others. Peter F. Hamilton, John Scalzi, Martha Wells and Cory Doctorow are contemporary heroes. An Australian Canadian, Cam lives near the Canadian Rockies.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherStories Rule Press
    Release dateOct 12, 2023
    ISBN9781774389362
    Iron Hammer Boxed Set: Iron Hammer, #8.5
    Author

    Cameron Cooper

    Cameron Cooper is the author of the Imperial Hammer series, an Amazon best-selling space opera series.  Cameron tends to write space opera short stories and novels, but also roams across the science fiction landscape. Cameron was raised on a steady diet of Asimov, Heinlein, Herbert, McCaffrey, and others. Peter F. Hamilton, John Scalzi, Martha Wells and Cory Doctorow are contemporary heroes. An Australian Canadian, Cam lives near the Canadian Rockies.

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      Book preview

      Iron Hammer Boxed Set - Cameron Cooper

      THE IRON HAMMER

      Series Boxed Set with Bonus Short Story

      This is an original publication of Stories Rule Press

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

      Copyright © 2023 by Cameron Cooper

      Text design by Stories Rule Press

      Edited by Mr. Intensity, Mark Posey

      Cover design by Dar Albert

      http://WickedSmartDesigns.com

      All rights reserved

      No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

      FIRST EDITION: July 2023

      Cooper, Cameron

      Fiction, Science Fiction, Space Opera

      https://StoriesRulePress.com

      V2307

      Special Offer – Free Science Fiction

      Space cities have been locked in war for centuries over the resources of an asteroid belt.

      Humans pilot swarms of pod fighters to protect their city’s mining operations from other cities, risking everything and suffering multiple deaths and regenerations. Then Landry goes through a regeneration which introduces an error that will destroy the delicate balance of the war.

      Resilience is a space opera short story by award-winning SF author Cameron Cooper.

      __

      Epic science fiction at its finest. Realistic far future worlds. Incredible characters and scenarios. – Amazon reader.

      This short story has not been commercially released for sale. It is only available as a gift to readers who subscribe to Cam’s email list.

      See details after you’ve enjoyed The Iron Hammer series.

      Table of Contents

      Half Title Page

      Copyright

      Special Offer

      About The Iron Hammer Series

      Praise for The Iron Hammer series

      Dedication

      Title Page

      Galactic Thunder

      About Galactic Thunder

      —1—

      —2—

      —3—

      —4—

      —5—

      —6—

      —7—

      —8—

      —9—

      —10—

      —11—

      —12—

      —13—

      —14—

      —15—

      —16—

      —17—

      —18—

      —19—

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      —21—

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      —24—

      —25—

      —26—

      —27—

      —28—

      —29—

      —30—

      —31—

      —32—

      —33—

      —34—

      —35—

      —36—

      —37—

      —38—

      —39—

      —40—

      Stellar Storm

      About Stellar Storm

      —1—

      —2—

      —3—

      —4—

      —5—

      —6—

      —7—

      —8—

      —9—

      —10—

      —11—

      —12—

      —13—

      —14—

      —15—

      —16—

      —17—

      —18—

      —19—

      —20—

      —21—

      —22—

      —23—

      —24—

      —25—

      —26—

      —27—

      —28—

      —29—

      —30—

      —31—

      —32—

      Planetary Parlay

      About Planetary Parlay

      —1—

      —2—

      —3—

      —4—

      —5—

      —6—

      —7—

      —8—

      —9—

      —10—

      —11—

      —12—

      —13—

      —14—

      —15—

      —16—

      —17—

      —18—

      —19—

      —20—

      —21—

      —22—

      —23—

      —24—

      —25—

      —26—

      —27—

      —28—

      —29—

      —30—

      —31—

      —32—

      —33—

      Waxing War

      About Waxing War

      —1—

      —2—

      —3—

      —4—

      —5—

      —6—

      —7—

      —8—

      —9—

      —10—

      —11—

      —12—

      —13—

      —14—

      —15—

      —16—

      —17—

      —18—

      —19—

      —20—

      —21—

      —22—

      —23—

      —24—

      —25—

      —26—

      —27—

      —28—

      —29—

      —30—

      —31—

      Ruled Out

      About Ruled Out

      —1—

      —2—

      —3—

      —4—

      —5—

      —6—

      —7—

      —8—

      —9—

      —10—

      —11—

      —12—

      —13—

      —14—

      —15—

      —16—

      —17—

      —18—

      —19—

      —20—

      —21—

      —22—

      —23—

      —24—

      —25—

      Stranger Stars

      About Stranger Stars

      —1—

      —2—

      —3—

      —4—

      —5—

      —6—

      —7—

      —8—

      —9—

      —10—

      —11—

      —12—

      —13—

      —14—

      —15—

      —16—

      —17—

      —18—

      —19—

      —20—

      Federal Force

      About Federal Force

      —1—

      —2—

      —3—

      —4—

      —5—

      —6—

      —7—

      —8—

      —9—

      —10—

      —11—

      —12—

      —13—

      —14—

      —15—

      —16—

      —17—

      —18—

      —19—

      —20—

      —21—

      —22—

      Insanity is Infectious Title Page

      About Insanity is Infectious

      Insanity Is Infectious

      Redline Rebels

      About Redline Rebels

      —1—

      —2—

      —3—

      —4—

      —5—

      —6—

      —7—

      —8—

      —9—

      —10—

      —11—

      —12—

      —13—

      —14—

      —15—

      —16—

      —17—

      —18—

      —19—

      —20—

      —21—

      —22—

      —23—

      —24—

      —25—

      —26—

      —27—

      —28—

      —29—

      —30—

      —31—

      —32—

      Special Offer

      Did you enjoy this series? How to make a big difference!

      About the Author

      Other Books by Cameron Cooper

      A Stories Rule Press Title

      About The Iron Hammer Series

      All eight novels of the Iron Hammer space opera series and a bonus short story.

      Danny Adela, once known as the Imperial Hammer, now called the Iron Hammer, fights for survival of the Carinad worlds.

      The underdog Carinad forces face an enemy who knows nothing but war, whose culture is built upon the glory of battle. As the Slavers fall upon the vulnerable Carinad worlds, Danny and her allies work to find a way out of the no-win scenario they face…

      The Iron Hammer series:

      1.0: Galactic Thunder

      2.0: Stellar Storm

      3.0: Planetary Parlay

      4.0: Waxing War

      5.0: Ruled Out

      6.0: Stranger Stars

      7.0: Federal Force

      7.1: Insanity is Infectious

      8.0: Redline Rebels

      Space Opera Science Fiction Omnibus

      Praise for The Iron Hammer series

      Wow, what a ride.

      A complex and interesting series. Deep complex, wonderful world building and character development.

      …it was what happened to the cast of characters that made this series so enthralling for me.

      …it was one helluva run. The ending is an extraordinary coming together of the people.

      An incredible set of stories. There is nothing else out there like this.

      A sprawling epic space opera spanning many long decades

      Dedication

      To I.S. Thank you for the vegemite.

      THE IRON HAMMER

      Series Boxed Set with Bonus Short Story

      By

      Cameron Cooper

      A picture containing text Description automatically generated

      Stories Rule Press

      Edmonton • Alberta

      GALACTIC THUNDER

      About Galactic Thunder

      Danny and her crew learn that humans may not be alone in the galaxy.

      Thirty years ago, Danny and her crew on the Supreme Lythion were instrumental in the defeat of the sentient array, the crumbling of the Empire and the development of crescent ships.

      Now wildcat crescent ships are opening up the known galaxy, finding more worlds to be settled and new resources. When the wildcat ship Ige Ibas goes dark and silent, Dalton comes to Danny for help, because his son, Mace, is on that ship. Despite their history, Danny agrees to try to find Mace.

      But the Ige Ibas has gone dark for a reason, and Danny’s investigation rouses the ire of a new enemy, one that emerges from beyond any worlds known to humans…

      —1—

      Dalton was late.

      In the nearly fifty years I’d known him, I could easily count a dozen times he’d failed to show up at the appointed hour. What was a few minutes here or there between friends? But three hours was pushing my limits.

      I stayed under the twenty-five-meter high, age-withered oak I’d staked out, even though I wanted to collect Vara, stalk back to my shitty little spacer quarters and find the second half of the printed scotch bottle stashed at the back of the kitchenette shelf.

      I was pissed at Dalton and pissed at myself, too. Why was I still here?

      The shady oak I was under soared over the far corner of the family reserve in one of the residential suburbs of Melenia City station. The suburb dome was one of the oldest in the city. I could remember, from long ago, having to arm myself to traverse it safely. Since the Shutdown, the city had made efforts to reclaim the dome for the families it had been built for. Beefing up security. Extra monitoring and speedy emergency responses. And this reserve had been de-trashed, sterilized and the soil rebuilt.

      Families had trickled back to the dome warily, until there were enough of them to make dubious business inconvenient, forcing the gangs and criminal organizations, the homeless and desperate to move elsewhere.

      I didn’t have a family. I lived here because it was cheap and because of this park, which Vara loved. She had made a dozen nose-in-hand friends here, who would obediently scratch her head and ears when they saw her. I could see her down by the river now, her bushy multi-colored tail up as she pushed her nose into the soft, dark brown loam by the edge of the slowly cycling green water.

      The daylights were hot, but the broad canopy of the oak made my wait shady and pleasant. I could even smell the peppery, green scent of the still, silent leaves overhead, baking in the light.

      The residents scattered across the open grassed area and clumped beneath the other ancient, gnarled shade trees had probably assumed I was doing what they were. But I was not here to enjoy myself. Except, in a way, that was exactly why I was here.

      Not for the first time, I shifted on my ass, fully prepared to get up off the blue plaid blanket I sat upon, call Vara back to me, shove my pad into my jacket pocket and go home. I aborted the movement, though.

      I was second guessing myself, which wasn’t normal for me. I didn’t enjoy the sensation. Yes, I had sat here for three hours, my ass was numb, and I was getting hungry. I longed for a drink and the silence of my cramped apartment.

      On the other hand, what was three hours when someone was travelling across the known worlds to get here?

      I wasn’t entirely sure where Dalton was coming from, but it would be on the far reaches of known space because that was where he made his living, supplying complete settlement kits to new ball-bound colonies.

      The kits came with a mini dome for less than Terran-standard worlds. What made Dalton’s kits so popular, though, were the shelters that came with them. They weren’t standard grown houses and sheds which melted after a couple of years’ exposure to the elements. They started out that way, but they were embedded with metal-extruding bacteria which fed upon the bio-skin of the structure, replacing it with a permanent metal coating in less than a year.

      Dalton lived where his clients were. He had been born on a ball and tended to head back there. I’m not sure even he was aware of the habit.

      Thanks to the new style wildcatters spreading across the galaxy, there were new colonies popping up every month, it seemed like. We no longer had to wait decades for a sub-light family barge to find planets suitable for settlement.

      And for every new colony, a settlement kit was needed. Dalton was doing well for himself.

      So he would be coming from somewhere cold and unfriendly to humans, where he would have been supervising the deployment of his tech on a new world. In other words, a long way from here. A three-hour delay was nothing.

      Only it was everything to me because…well, because it had been twenty-seven years since the Shutdown.

      Dalton hadn’t pointed out the elapsed time when he’d called to set up the date. I had said nothing, too. Yet the entire two-minute conversation had been studded with that fact, every word weighed down with implications.

      It’s been a while, he’d said. Even in the holographic representation of him, standing in the meter-wide aisle of my quarters, he’d looked good. Tanned face, square jaw, rich brown hair springing thickly from his head. He wore a well-trimmed beard these days. He wore it well. He said the healthy appearance came from hard work and fresh air. Not that I would ever find out. Not about the efficacy of fresh air, at any rate. I thought I’d visit for a bit, he added.

      My heart thudded. When?

      He rubbed the back of his neck. Next week?

      You’re always welcome. You know that.

      As long as I don’t ask to see your place. I remember. He dropped his hand. I’ll get my usual room at the hilton on the upper passenger concourse. Melenia was big enough that it had a dozen specialized docking areas, including a luxury one for passengers, a level up from the cheap seat ticket holders.

      How long do you think you’ll be staying, this time? I made it sound casual, but it was a hard-fought battle.

      His gaze met mine. I don’t know for sure.

      That was not his usual answer. My heart picked up the pace even more. We can sort that out when you get here. Still light. Still unconcerned, but I could feel sweat prickling under my arms.

      His smile was small, but it was warm.

      I made myself not reach out for the counter next to my hip, to prop myself up. Hope flared. How’s Fiori and Mace? Prompting him to talk about them might nudge him into telling me what I most wanted to hear.

      He shook his head. I’ll explain when I get there. Cheaper. Calls from temporary beacons were expensive.

      I reached for the counter, this time. I made it look as casual as my expression, while it was really to keep my knees from giving out and to hide that my hand was trembling. Next Thursday, then.

      Noon. I’ll find you under your oak tree. Dalton paused. Did his green eyes sparkle? It was hard to tell. Not only were temporary beacons expensive to use for interstellar calls, they didn’t have the bandwidth for high resolution communications.

      I decided that the twinkle wasn’t just my imagination and had to work to keep the silly, happy grin off my face. Noon, Thursday, I repeated.

      Dalton’s smile grew warmer and broader as he disconnected. He had guessed exactly what I was thinking. He knew me too well, damn him.

      The spark of hope bloomed into a maelstrom of anticipation as the five standard days between his call and his arrival crawled past at glacial speed.

      And now noon, Thursday, had long gone and I was still sitting here, prevaricating myself to a standstill.

      Maybe he had changed his mind. Or something had came up with his latest project. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d not been able to get away, after all. But he’d always let me know ahead of our meet-up, on those occasions. Besides, the last no-show had been a decade ago. He had far greater control over his booming business and his personal life now.

      I looked up as I heard Vara’s happy yip. She was vocal, for a wolf.

      She charged up the slope from the river, her jaws open in her version of a smile. She was not heading for me. Rather, she was angling up the slope, heading for the section of the reserve where the big sliding doors gave access from the dome’s public concourse.

      I sat up, the numbness in my rear forgotten, as I spotted a golden explosion of thick fur, tail, nose and ears race toward Vara, bristling with pleasure.

      It was Darb, Dalton’s parawolf.

      My breath caught. I kept my gaze on the two parawolves as they rubbed faces and sniffed at each other, then licked their welcomes, while everyone nearby watched them with indulgent expressions.

      The last time I had seen Darb in the flesh had been when he was a pup. He was fully grown now, just like Vara.

      I tore my gaze away from the pair and back to the public doors, scanning the people entering the reserve, looking for a tall man with brown hair.

      There he was.

      My heart picked up its already unsteady pace.

      Then I saw the white-blonde woman beside him, with a sunburnt nose and long legs.

      Fiori.

      I sank back upon the plaid blanket, my confusion swirling in my gut, making me feel nauseous. All during this long, drawn out week, not had I once anticipated he might bring her with him. He never had, before.

      Dalton picked out my tree with his gaze. It was easy to find. It was the biggest and oldest oak on the reserve. It stood out.

      He saw me under the tree, but he didn’t smile. He touched Fiori’s arm and pointed to the oak.

      She focused upon the tree. Her expression was pinched. When she spotted me, she didn’t scowl.

      Something was wrong.

      I got to my feet and headed toward them. Halfway there, I gave the soft whistle that Vara knew not to argue with. She trotted toward me, bringing Darb with her.

      We all met in the middle, which was directly beneath the hot lights, and therefore thin of grass and short on people.

      Vara and Darb settled beside us, both panting happily.

      I cut to the chase. What’s happened?

      Dalton opened his mouth to speak, swallowed, then tried again. This close, he looked wretched.

      Mace is missing, Fiori said simply. The pinched look I’d noticed from afar was the product of a deep furrow between her brows. She looked like someone had sucker-punched her in the gut.

      Missing? I repeated blankly. Only, in my heart, I knew. Dalton’s expression, Fiori’s battered look, told the story they could not.

      The ship he was on has gone dark. Dalton’s voice was strained. Three days now.

      Their beacon could have gone down. Or they were on the wrong side of a flaring star. A dozen other reasons why a ship might go silent ran through my mind. But none of them would cause a ship to stay silent for three days.

      Now I knew why Dalton was late, and why he looked the way he did. If something bad had happened, Mace would be the second son lost to him and he’d never properly got over the loss of the first.

      —2—

      My first instinct was to take everyone back to my quarters. I had an obedient and well-trained terminal there and wouldn’t have to go through all the silly procedures to make a public terminal secure. I knew the quality of the terminals in the hilton that Dalton preferred. They usually left me with a need to wash my hands after I used them.

      But three adults and two adult parawolves simply wouldn’t fit in my quarters. Someone would have to lean their back against the door at all times.

      I had to get these two out of public view, though. They needed time to pull themselves together and I needed privacy to do what came next, which was to help them find Mace and get him back.

      I left the blanket under the tree. It would either be stolen or someone would thoughtfully fold it and hang it over a branch for me to collect later. I was tolerably well known on the reserve, although I didn’t know a single other person’s name. I knew the faces, though.

      I led Dalton and Fiori back to the hilton that Dalton used, and told Vara and Darb to help them along, which they did by nudging the human legs with their shoulders. That also warded off pedestrians who got too close and eased our passage around the busy concourse.

      Are you checked in? I asked Dalton when we reached the rarified air of the upper passenger concourse. The atmosphere really did seem different here. Perhaps it was the perfumed, pampered passengers. Or the lack of unwashed residents.

      He frowned. I…no. We were late.

      Straight to the park, to find me.

      I nodded and moved through the hilton’s doors. Low light. Hushed conversations. Polished surfaces. Check in, then. We’ll talk in the room. I pulled out my pad and moved over to one of the well-padded chairs artfully placed in a conversational grouping. With a flick of my fingers, Vara and Darb followed me.

      I didn’t realize Fiori hadn’t moved to the front desk with Dalton until she said, right next to me, I’m sorry.

      I looked up from the pad, startled. I shrugged off the surprise. What have you to be sorry about?

      Gabriel wanted to go and find Mace. I told him to talk to you, first.

      I lowered the pad, parsing this second surprise. Actually, a pair of surprises. One, that it had been Fiori’s idea to pull me into this. And two: That it hadn’t been Dalton’s first instinct. Although the second one wasn’t as big a surprise as the first. Dalton’s first instinct was always to immediately try to fix the situation with the most direct and obvious method. We were both guilty of that bad habit.

      Once he’d got over that initial impulse, though, he’d come straight here.

      I shook my head, because Fiori was clearly waiting for me to forgive her for what she apparently thought was a major imposition for me. The pinched look seemed to be even worse in this soft lighting. She looked…well, old. The white-blonde braid hanging over her shoulder was yellow in places. Dalton shouldn’t have to deal with this, I told her. Not again.

      Fiori didn’t quite glance over her shoulder and I knew she had resisted the impulse to seek out Dalton with her gaze. I slipped a sedative into his breakfast. Otherwise, I don’t think he would be handling it at all.

      Fiori was a medic. A damned good one, I’d finally figured out. Wherever Dalton went, she and Mace had gone with him. He and Fiori were not together. They weren’t a couple and had never been more than casual partners—which was how Mace had happened. But Fiori, like Dalton, had elected to raise Mace through to his majority. Where Dalton went, they went. Fiori would act as the colony medical service until they moved on to the next set-up.

      She was dealing with her own shock and worry but had diagnosed Dalton as being in greater need. Despite drugs, he was still wound up tighter than a nuclear coil. I let out a slow breath. No more, I told her. I need him with a clear head.

      She nodded. Now he’s here, it should help.

      I wondered if she meant that now Dalton was here with me, or that now he was actually doing something. But I didn’t ask. Fiori and I had a limited, compromise-filled relationship.

      That strained relationship prevented me from asking if she had known what Dalton had intended to tell me when he got here, if Mace hadn’t disappeared in the meantime. Whatever her answer might have been, it was irrelevant now.

      Dalton moved away from the front desk, heading for the up shaft. I got to my feet and we all moved over with him. I saw some startled looks from the staff behind the counter. They were used to seeing Vara here, for I often brought her with me when I came to see Dalton. But two parawolves in the same space was unusual, anywhere.

      Because they were siblings, Vara and Darb were at ease with each other and trotted just ahead of me, their shoulders not quite touching, moving in unison.

      All of us just barely fit into the elevator. Darb took up a lot of horizontal space and he maneuvered to place himself next to his bonded master.

      The room was not one I’d seen before. The two big windows looked out upon the dome itself and black space beyond. Just at the edge of the far-right window, Melenia blazed, shedding bright yellow light. The windows had polarized, taking the edge off the glare.

      I immediately moved over to the terminal. Take a seat, you guys. I have a couple of calls to make. Where are your bags?

      Bonded storage with the harbor master, Dalton said. The concierge is fetching them. He scrubbed at his hair. Are you calling Lyth?

      I knew why he thought I might. I shook my head. How long is it since you ate?

      I’m fine, Dalton said.

      Five hours, at least, Fiori said. I’ll order something.

      Something hot, I added.

      She glanced at me, but didn’t nod, although I knew she had recognized what I was doing and was helping me do it. I wanted Dalton alert and energetic. Fiori, too, as it appeared she was along for the ride.

      You’re not questioning whether this is a false alarm, Dalton said, lowering himself onto the satin coverlet on the bed with weary slowness. Darb leapt up onto the bed and sat right behind Dalton’s shoulder. The parawolf could sense Dalton’s stress.

      There’s no point in questions, I answered Dalton. No ship stays out of contact for longer than necessary. I can’t think of a single simple explanation for staying silent for three days. The longest jump to anywhere is under three. Even if they were taking that jump, they should have emerged by now. Something has happened and they can’t extricate themselves. We have to go in.

      Dalton nodded, satisfied, even though I was lying just a bit. I had a thousand questions I wanted to pepper Dalton with, including what the fuck his son was doing on a ship by himself. But all of them would keep.

      Priorities, priorities.

      Fiori dealt with the concierge panel, ordering freshly cooked food from the kitchens instead of dialing up something on the printer shelf right beneath. Medics were often resistant to printed food, despite the medical profession as a whole insisting it was perfectly healthy and nutritious.

      In this hilton, unlike its cheaper cousins, the concierge panel was separated from the communications and data terminal. The terminal was a fully-functional dashboard one sat at, with physical screens. It was a swanky hotel, but it was also a very old one.

      I pulled up the chair and got to work.

      My first call went through very fast, because it was a good connection. The communications beacons around Triga were fifth generation, advanced models with high capacity. I happened to know that because Lyth had told me about the contract he’d completed to deploy them.

      I could remember the time—which really wasn’t all that long ago—when it was impossible to speak to someone outside your own local star system for longer than sixty seconds, and even that short call would rack up charges to keep you in debt for the next generation. Instant and near-instant live communications, provided cheaply, were still a novelty, although I had apparently got used to talking to holographic 3D images. The flat physical screen took the edge off my marveling.

      Jai Van Veen sat back in a well-padded armchair that I could see, instead of appearing to be lounging upon nothing, the way the tri-d reps did. His brow raised. Danny. He leaned sideways a bit. Is that Dalton?

      I shifted out of the way, so Van Veen could see him properly.

      Dalton lifted a hand in greeting. Jai.

      Van Veen’s eyes narrowed. He’d gone through a round of regeneration therapy recently. The heavy laugh lines at the corners of his eyes had disappeared and his flesh was smooth and young. His cheekbones were still high and his cheeks thin. His jaw was still covered in dark blond scruff, but he looked relaxed and well.

      He said, Something’s happened. He’d spotted Dalton’s tension, too.

      I nodded. Dalton’s son, Mace, is on a ship that has gone silent. I’m going to ask Lyssa to take us out there and check it out.

      Van Veen processed it quickly. How long has it been dark?

      Three days, I said.

      Three point nine, now, Fiori said from the concierge panel.

      I didn’t catch that, Van Veen said patiently.

      That was Fiori—Mace’s mother. She’s working with the concierge panel. She said it’s been three point nine days now.

      Sorry! Fiori murmured from the side.

      Van Veen didn’t appear to hear the apology. He frowned. Three days is long enough to be concerned, he said slowly. The ship’s AI doesn’t respond, either?

      I glanced at Dalton. He scrubbed at his hair. So I looked at Fiori. She shook her head. No response.

      What is the last known location? The question didn’t come from Van Veen, but from someone off Van Veen’s screen. We were all breaking etiquette today.

      Marlow? I asked.

      Anderson Marlow moved into view—rangy and elegantly dressed. He leaned on the back of Van Veen’s chair, and bent to look at the screen. Hi Danny. You’re planning on heading for the ship’s last known, I presume. Just wondering what quadrant that is.

      When I know myself, I’ll pass it on, I told him. Somewhere remote, I suspect, or someone would have noticed a ship in distress. They would have picked up the beacon at the very least.

      It’s a wildcat ship, Dalton said, lifting his voice so he’d be heard by everyone listening in on this conversation—and that number was multiplying by the second.

      Another what the fuck? tried to burst out of me. I ground my teeth together until the impulse passed, but mentally jotted yet another question on my long list.

      What was Mace doing on a wildcat ship?

      Then somewhere remote indeed, Jai concluded, with a heavy exhale.

      I was already getting bogged down in details I didn’t think we had the time to hash out. Once we get moving, I can discuss this properly. This is a courtesy call.

      You’re not going to make our meeting, Marlow concluded.

      Even though I was facing the screen and Dalton was behind me, I still sensed him stiffen and grow still.

      Probably not, I replied carefully. I don’t know why you wanted to see me, but this takes priority, no matter what it was.

      That was another small lie. I had a damn good idea what Marlow and Jai wanted. It was another job, one of the projects, assignments and gigs they had handed out for…oh, decades. I would have stopped taking on their dirty work long before now, except the work was important. Saving-humanity-level important.

      Those two, between them, knew everyone of any influence across the known systems. They had done more than anyone to pull the remnants of the old Carinad empire out of its death spiral, made us pull together and work toward a future that only they seemed to fully see.

      There was no empire anymore. No central government of any kind. When systems needed to coordinate to get something done, it was often Jai and Marlow in the center of that work, directing it. Everyone knew who they were, and their role in the last days of the Empire and the defeat of the array. It gave them power of a kind.

      They were as close to being leaders of the known worlds as anyone was comfortable with, these days.

      Besides, they always paid better than anyone else in the galaxy. With my debt load, I couldn’t afford to be choosy about my work.

      Vara whined, next to me. Her tail thumped.

      I refocused on Jai and Marlow. Vara would like to say hello to someone.

      Jai smiled and beckoned with his fingers to someone out of the range of his screen.

      I heard soft padding steps, then Coal moved into view, put his forepaws on the arm of Jai’s chair and lifted himself up to peer at the screen. His tail wagged and his tongue lolled.

      He was very nearly as black as his name, except when he moved, his fur turned silver as the light played over it, with dark grey ripples. His appearance was mesmerizing—especially when he fixed his dull gold-eyed gaze upon you. With a jolt, I noticed for the first time that Coal’s and Marlow’s eyes were nearly identical in color.

      Vara balanced on her front paws on the edge of the terminal dashboard, and gave a soft whine, staring at her brother on the screen.

      Behind me, Darb’s tail thumped on the coverlet. He gave a soft yip.

      Coal yapped back. Marlow scratched between his ears and Coal panted happily.

      Let us know what you find, Danny, Jai said. Let us know if we can help.

      Thank you, I will. I disconnected and put the terminal in sleep mode. I’d disabled all lenses except the screen, scrubbed a dozen spy programs and archives out of existence before making the call to Jai, but I still didn’t trust the public terminal to not passively record anything it heard in the room for our own safety and convenience.

      Then I turned to face Dalton and Fiori. Fiori had finished ordering food and stood with her back against the wall opposite the bed Dalton sat upon. She looked like she was propping herself up. I wondered how much sleep she’d got, lately.

      Dalton wasn’t slouching wearily anymore. He gripped his hands together, between his knees, staring at me. I raised a brow at him, knowing what was coming.

      Fiori, Dalton said, his voice low. Would you mind stepping out? I want to talk to Danny for a moment.

      Fiori straightened instantly. Of course. I’ll go see what’s taking the concierge so long with our bags.

      She stepped out of the room and let the door seal with a heavy click, leaving us alone with the two parawolves, facing each other.

      —3—

      For one long minute, Dalton didn’t move.

      Then he sighed. You were heading for Triga in a couple of days.

      Not for anything urgent, I assured him. Marlow contacted me nearly two weeks ago, now.

      Dalton’s tension didn’t ease at hearing it had been a longer-held appointment than his short-notice visit. You didn’t let them know you wouldn’t be there. Not until just now.

      A few decades ago, I might have done something—anything, really, to duck such a conversation. But I had been through harder conversations than this with Dalton since then. So I kept my gaze steady. You didn’t give me any reason to think I should cancel with Jai and Marlow.

      He shot up off the bed and onto his feet, driven by an emotion that made his jaw flex and his eyes to glitter. "You knew why I was coming here!"

      I hoped, I said, keeping my voice down.

      He shook his head. Nope, he wasn’t going to let me get away with that prevarication at all. "You knew, Danny. You knew. That has always been understood. Even Fiori knew it. Twenty-five years, until Mace reached his majority, then you and I… He let his hands fall. Then, finally… he breathed, all the anger draining from him. You knew that," he added.

      I nodded. I know that, I agreed. But Mace turned twenty-five over a year ago.

      His jaw beneath the trimmed beard rippled again. I couldn’t just down tools and sprint here, no matter how much I wanted to.

      My heart gave a little squeeze. The two wolves were shifting their snouts from one to the other of us as we spoke. They could feel our emotions and would be puzzled by them.

      Reassure Darb, I warned Dalton softly.

      He put his hand out in a reflex motion, found Darb’s head and scratched it.

      I did the same with Vara. It doesn’t really matter what either of us intended, Dalton. Mace and a shipload of wildcatters are likely to be in serious trouble. That supersedes anything you and I might want.

      Dalton held his breath for a long moment, then let it out with a hard bellow. I can’t argue with you. Mace is all I can think of properly right now. But Danny—

      I shook my head. No. You’re doped and tired and stressed. Anything you say now will be colored by that. So don’t say it.

      Dalton let out his breath again and rolled his eyes. Fiori slipped me something. No wonder I can’t think straight. His shoulders straightened and I could almost feel his energy pick up. Just knowing it was a drug making him feel useless was helping.

      She did it because you needed it. Fiori knows what she’s doing, I said. But I told her not to give you anything else. I need you chilly and calm here on out.

      "I want me cold and calm, Dalton muttered. He pushed his hands into the deep pockets of the heavy coat he wore—he hadn’t taken it off. Will Lyssa help you?" There was a faint note of hope in his voice. He didn’t know Lyssa nearly as well as me. She had been an AI shipmind without a body, the last time he’d interacted with her. He had not been there during the dark days on Nijeliya when I had got to know Lyssa better.

      She will help, I said firmly. For some reason that escapes me, Lyssa feels she owes me a debt.

      Half the universe feels that way, Dalton muttered. His gaze met mine. I keep thinking of Sam.

      I know. Sam was his first son and until Mace, his only child. Sam had died a long time ago, and far from here, and Dalton hadn’t learned that until years later. The wound would always be fresh.

      He swallowed. I don’t know how I…how do I deal with it, if Mace is gone, too?

      My heart ached for him. But I said with a snappy tone, First, you don’t know what the fuck has happened to him. He and his shipmates could be on the surface, having a week-long party, completely unaware that their shipmind has stopped answering hails, and when we get there, they’ll blink drunkenly at us and wonder what all the fuss is about. Wildcatters were risk-takers. They liked their parties as reckless as their ventures into unknown space.

      Dalton pressed his lips together, suppressing a smile. Oh, and I will kill him myself if that is all it is.

      I silently cheered at that small sign of spirit. "Second, if the news is bad, if something has happened to Mace, then you’ll deal with it the way we all do. You’re strong, Dalton. You know how to do it."

      He stared at me for a long moment. A day at a time.

      Or even an hour at a time. Or just the next minute. You breathe and wait for the minute to pass.

      He nodded.

      But I have no intention of letting you get to that point, I assured him.

      His smile had some of the same spirit in it. You don’t, huh?

      Nope. I brushed that aside. Let me reach out to Lyssa and ask her to step across the systems from wherever she is. Then we should eat, and we can talk.

      Dalton nodded. Then he tilted his head. "Hang on. What about Juliyana? I thought she was using the Lythion as her ship."

      "Stars, you are out of touch," I replied, as the concierge panel gave the little three-tone trill announcing that the meal Fiori had ordered was at the door.

      Dalton headed for the door. "Then, if Juliyana isn’t using the Lythion anymore, won’t you be yanking whoever is captain now out of their business?"

      Hardly, I said, my tone dry. Lyssa fired Juliyana five years ago. Since then, she’s been running the ship.

      Dalton glanced at me as he opened the door, startled. A sweet little shipmind as her own captain? Doesn’t that scare any potential clients away?

      Oh, you poor man, I breathed. I can’t wait for you to meet Lyssa again.

      —4—

      Twenty-four hours later, I packed a jump bag and met Dalton and Fiori in front of docking bay one-thirty-three on the commercial hub. They’d kept Vara with them so I could move quickly and were drawing lots of attention as they stood in front of the big commercial doors of the bay. It was the middle of Melenia’s day and busy on the docks.

      I hadn’t bothered trying to talk Fiori out of coming with us. In her own way, she was as stubborn as me. Or Dalton. Mace had been a challenge to deal with when he’d hit the terrible twos, as he’d acquired both their recalcitrant genes.

      Besides, Lyssa in medical mode had her limitations. We might need a competent physician who could actually step off the ship. We might need any number of experts. I didn’t know what we were flying into.

      I’d spent most of the night turning over the few facts Dalton could give me about the ship and its last location on the outer edges of known space. The location was on the literal edge of the Carina arm of the galaxy. When I had pulled up a stellar map and asked the computer to point to the location, the map still had the old boundaries of the Tanique Dynasty’s extended empire showing. The wildcatters were well beyond the nearest boundary.

      Humans had spilled out in all directions since the array and the empire had collapsed. Now they didn’t have to wait for gates to be built to get somewhere, they were tumbling, rolling and skipping out in all directions, finding new territories every week.

      Old, pre-crescent converted ships were scooped up cheap by the adventurers, who would find a likely spot for a Terran class world and go look. It was as simple as that.

      If the world had breathable atmosphere—or even if it didn’t, but the spectrographs looked promising—the wildcatters would head to the surface, prospect, get samples, then dash back to civilization to announce either a mining claim, or a colonization claim.

      There were a lot of very wealthy wildcatters who had given up the high-risk business a dozen years after one of their worlds had been settled, to live an easy life among the colonists.

      There were also a lot of wildcatters who never came home. Space has always been dangerous. Unknown, unsurveyed worlds were even more so. Still, the lure of immense wealth drew more gamblers to try their luck with each passing year.

      I didn’t have a lot of known facts about Mace’s situation, but the many scary rumors and tall stories about wildcatting shadowed it. I had not had an easy night’s sleep. From Dalton’s and Fiori’s faces, I judged they had not had much rest, either.

      I nodded at both of them and shifted my pack onto the other shoulder. Lyssa has docked and is waiting for us.

      She really is captain of the ship…which is her? Fiori’s voice rose.

      Danny says wait until you meet her, Dalton said, although he didn’t sound any happier than Fiori.

      Fiori was a long way from being one of the Humanist extremists, but every human who hadn’t met a digital person carried some degree of trepidation about sentient AIs. Nothing got them past that ancient prejudice as fast as meeting one, so I pushed open the man-sized door inserted into the massive commercial bay doors and stepped through.

      Come on, I told them, as Vara and Darb trotted through with their tails up.

      After a ship touched down, a commercial landing bay became a noisy, bustling cavern, with freight being unloaded and new freight loaded, while station-based engineers and laborers crawled over the rest of the ship, analyzed it, fixed it, fueled it and performed all sorts of support services in between.

      Captains of freight vessels kept a careful eye on their ship while the station people marched through her. Usually a station stevedore or mercantile agent stood at the captain’s side to watch out for the station’s interests.

      This time was a little different. The Supreme Lythion rarely carried freight, unless the freight came along with its paying passengers. What Lyssa did was offer luxury accommodations and private passage. Whatever the client wanted in accommodations, Lyssa could create with her construction nanobots. A single passenger could hire the ship all for himself…if he could afford it.

      Today there was no freight being banged around and bounced off walls or laborers sweating and cursing over the big containers. There were, however, a good two dozen station people working on the exterior of the ship, checking couplings and umbilicals, topping off water and energy, checking fuel cells.

      The Supreme Lythion was a blocky, ugly ship on the outside. It had been designed by a mad genius, Girish Wedekind, and had been so far advanced for its time that the empire had laughed him into shame and suicide. The exterior of the ship was a deep, matt black, with few distinguishing details, except for the twin rail guns on the upper surface.

      The Lythion had been converted to a crescent ship shortly after the Shutdown, and the twin crescent arms emerged from her belly in the front half of the ship and ran back and up at an angle. They were meters thick but looked spindly against the size of the ship itself. At the end of each arm, the two crescents appeared to be resting against the roof of the ship. During a jump, the arms activated and swung the crescents up and over the front of the ship, then down beneath it. The crescents formed a worm hole, which was flipped over the nose of the moving ship. Impetus drove the ship into the hole, to transition across interstellar space to where the hole ended.

      Once, we’d needed stationary gates beside every inhabited star system to form the holes between them. But now, the crescents were partial gates which we took with us.

      Sometime since I had last seen the ship, Lyssa had coated the arms and crescents with the same non-reflecting black covering that made the Lythion almost impossible to see in the black of space.

      The crescents and arms didn’t enhance the Lythion’s appearance yet seeing her still gave me a warm swell of homecoming happiness.

      Lyssa stood where a captain usually stood—at the top of the freight ramp, where she could see as much as possible of both the inside and outside of her ship. She wore spacer boots and the heavy, waterproof, rip resistant shirt, pants and multipocketed jacket which space-bound workers preferred.

      Since I had seen her last, Lyssa had changed the color of her hair. It was a fiery, coppery orange now, and bound up at the back of her head to keep it out of the way. Tendrils escaped around her face. She wore a speaker headset, a theatre prop to convince the station personnel she was in direct contact with the shipmind.

      Melenia’s harbor master himself stood at her side, overseeing his people, for the Supreme Lythion was a celebrity these days—one of the few ships to escape the melt-down of Nijeliya’s atmosphere, after being converted to a crescent ship in the temporary workshops that had sprung up on the plain outside Eventide, racing against the clock to avoid the worst of the super flares blasting the planet.

      Lyssa was taller than the harbor master by a big hand’s span, and Umar was my height. Despite the red carpet treatment the station was giving her, Lyssa was pissed. Her hands were planted firmly on her hips as she rained trouble down upon Umar’s head. She wasn’t shouting, but fury made her voice project. I couldn’t quite make out the words, yet. We weren’t close enough.

      "Is that Lyssa?" Dalton breathed, next to me.

      Fiori’s mouth opened, and she pulled her gaze back to Lyssa on the ramp. She had clearly dismissed the woman as some sort of bottom-rung spacer. Now she reassessed, her eyes narrowed.

      That’s Lyssa, I confirmed.

      Dalton let out a heavy gust of breath. Damn…

      Vara and Darb were close to the bottom of the ramp. I reached out to Vara quickly and told her to halt there. She stopped obediently with her paws nearly touching the end of the ramp. Darb stopped with her.

      "…water was so shot with impurities last time I had to jettison it. My passengers got sick, Umar! I should have had you clean up the mess they left," Lyssa was saying, as we drew closer.

      I assure you, the water we provide is warranteed consumption safe, captain— Umar began.

      The storm was merely Lyssa being picky. It was her insides the water impurities coated. I couldn’t blame her for fussing over it. But it was an interruptible crisis. Permission to board, captain? I called out.

      Lyssa had been on the point of responding to Umar. She closed her mouth and turned to us where we stood at the end of the ramp, smiling hugely, her green eyes dancing. She threw her arms out wide. "Vara! Darb! Oh, look at you guys! You’re so big now!"

      I told Vara she could climb the ramp, and she hopped up onto the end. Darb followed her.

      Lyssa crouched down to greet them, while Umar stepped back. He looked relieved to be off the hook, even if it was temporary.

      I hid my sigh as Vara looked as though she might veer around Lyssa and keep going. Vara knew there was a heated sandpit waiting for her inside, and the pit was where deer carcasses were delivered for her to gorge upon. Lyssa was merely another non-living object to step around.

      The parawolves could deal with images on screens and 3D displays and equate them with real people, but they could not seem to grasp that Lyssa was another type of display of a person.

      I quickly ordered Vara to halt and sit. She sat on the very top of the ramp so quickly it looked as though someone had pushed on her hindquarters.

      Lyssa threw her arms around Vara’s neck and buried her face in the thick grey-white fur of her ruff.

      Vara just panted, waiting for my next order, while Darb sat next to his sister, looking around the empty freight bay with curiosity, his gaze not once lingering upon Lyssa.

      They can’t see her… Dalton murmured.

      She’s non-living nanobots, I reminded him, just as softly.

      She’s what? Fiori added.

      When we’re inside, Dalton told her.

      A small furrow formed between Fiori’s pale brows, but she nodded.

      We stopped behind Vara and Darb. Lyssa rose to her feet, smiling. I had the sandpit rebuilt for them, she told me.

      Thank you. I looked at Vara and told her she could go find her pit now. She raced away, her toes clicking upon the iron fiber floor. Darb leapt after her. They shot through the interior bay door and disappeared. Then I glanced at Umar. Master Umar.

      He nodded at me. "Colonel Andela. I didn’t realize you were the Lythion’s passenger today. The manifest says nothing."

      This is a last minute trip. I turned to Lyssa. Hello, daughter.

      She gave a little happy sound and threw her arms around me and squeezed. I realized that I was squeezing just as hard and we were both laughing.

      Fiori cleared her throat. Either she was recovering from my calling Lyssa daughter or she was uncomfortable with the physical display. Either way, I didn’t give a damn.

      Lyssa let go of me. I wouldn’t have been able to break her grip if she had not, for she made herself out of construction nanobots, these days. Screw the expense. She charged enough per passenger she could afford the heavy pull of energy it took to use them.

      She glanced at Dalton and Fiori. Hello, Gabriel. It has been a while.

      It has. You’ve grown up, Lyssa. He was saying that for Umar’s sake, for the harbor master hadn’t moved out of earshot. But he also meant it. I could hear the admiration in his voice.

      She grinned. If you ask Lyth, he’ll tell you it’s all appearance and I’m still a brat. She shifted her gaze to Fiori. You have to be Fiori, then. She held out her hand.

      I held my breath, watching Fiori closely for any signs of hesitation or distaste. She did pause just for a heartbeat. Then she reached out and grasped Fiori’s hand, her expression polite. Captain Andela, I’ve heard only a little about you. Everyone insisted I meet you, and I’m starting to understand why. Her gaze shifted down to her hand, enclosed in Lyssa’s.

      Lyssa grinned and released Fiori’s hand. Fiori didn’t shake her hand or flex the fingers, so Lyssa hadn’t squeezed too hard. Lyssa was behaving herself, then.

      Lyssa glanced at Umber. I’ll get my guests settled, then come back and sign off. Yes?

      That suits me, Umar said with badly hidden relief. He nodded at me.

      Lyssa took off the headset—it was a real one, not a construction made out of her nanobots. She hung it over a hook by the ramp doorway, and waved us in. Come aboard, she added.

      Dalton and Fiori followed her through the empty, echoing freight bay, which smelled faintly of old, dusty oil and the musky, astringent aroma the standard freight containers gave off when exposed to extremes of heat.

      I’d lived aboard the Supreme Lythion for years, but every time I stepped aboard, I wondered what would greet me, especially since Lyssa had nominated herself as captain. Today was no different. I followed them into the ship, curious to see what novelties waited for us.

      —5—

      At first, I was almost disappointed. Everything looked exactly as it had when I had lived here.

      The interior of the Supreme Lythion was a ten meter high by eighty meter long shell in which Lyssa could add any non-sentient object she wanted by manipulating pools of construction-grade nanobots. The only things she could not create out of the bots were biological in nature—food-class printers, and the medical concierge panel. But those elements could be moved by her bots to where she wanted them, and rooms built around them. Or sandpits for parawolves. Or an entire stellar cartography room with 3D display that let you walk among the stars.

      I stepped into a wide corridor lined with doors that was the same as when I had lived aboard. Even the scuff marks on the floor and walls were the same, giving the ship a well-used, comfortable feeling.

      Dalton examined the passage and pointed to the second door down from the bridge end of the ship. Mine?

      As always, Lyssa assured him.

      Mine, then, I said, pointing to the first door.

      And where am I? Fiori asked, sounding calmer. The appearance of the place was familiar to her. Doors, walls, corridors—exactly what one expected in a ship. She would learn soon enough that the walls could move when they needed to, or disappear altogether, come to that.

      Third door, Lyssa said, pointing. The first time you use the door panel, it will register your biometrics and after that, no one else will be able to enter unless you open the door for them.

      Sounds good. She hefted her bag. Should I…? She glanced at Dalton.

      I turned to Lyssa. How fast can we get out there?

      Two hours, minimum, Lyssa replied instantly. That’s why I was shouting at Umber. I landed six hours ago. It took ‘em four hours to get around to hooking me up. Now I have to wait for them to finish. Sorry. She grimaced.

      You should stow your pack and get settled, I told Fiori. Then meet us on the bridge in a couple of hours.

      Actually step onto the bridge? Fiori said, startled, proving she’d been on more than a few interstellar ships before. Most captains forbid passengers from stepping upon the bridge unless expressly requested to do so. Invitations never happened, though. The bridge was the last place you wanted passengers rubbernecking and tripping you up.

      Danny likes company on the bridge, Lyssa told her. I do, too. The bridge is big enough you won’t jolt my elbow. She glanced at me. Vara and Darb are both eating. That’s okay, yes?

      Dalton grinned. Deer meat. Darby will hate that. He was the only one who could use Darb’s nickname. Darb would growl if anyone else did. Dalton headed for the door that was his. I want to see how thick the dust is since I was last here.

      The door opened as he approached it and closed behind him.

      Can you dump my bag for me? I asked Lyssa, hefting my pack. I want to see the bridge first.

      Sure. She glanced at the floor at my feet. The floor surface lifted, as if a bubble was forming beneath, then rose up into a half-meter blob. Details formed. Wheels, a wide tray, guide rails. Ding marks and a corporate brand for a company which had never existed. It all happened in less than two seconds.

      Fiori drew in a sharp breath.

      The trolley mouse nudged closer to me and I dropped my pack onto its flat surface, between the guide rails. The trolley trundled toward the door that was for my room. The door opened for it and shut silently.

      Fiori squeezed the straps of her pack. Well… She glanced at me.

      Relax, I said. You’re in very good hands.

      Fiori nodded and headed for the third door and I turned in the direction of the bridge. Lyssa had already sunk into the floor. It was quicker for her to rebuild herself on the bridge…but I was suddenly glad that Fiori hadn’t seen that. She was already close to being unnerved by the oddities of the Lythion.

      I moved up the passage and around the left-turning corner, which would take me to the short ramp up to the bridge, in the middle of the ship. On the other side of the corridor from the ramp was a wider door than those for our rooms, and I smiled.

      Lyssa had rebuilt the diner for us, too.

      When Lyth had been the shipmind, he’d built an ancient Terran diner which had become our off-time place of relaxation, as well as our dining room.

      A long, cold drink with a featherweight kick would go over right now. My throat contracted longingly. Or a bowl of ice cream with warm caramel sauce…

      I drew in a slow, calming breath as the thought of ice cream and caramel sauce conjured up a sudden, detailed image of Varg in my mind, her nose in a bowl of the sticky stuff. Varg had loved ice cream and caramel sauce. She had been a part of my life for a very long time and I missed her. But she had lived a full life and an extraordinarily long one for a parawolf. She had even managed to flummox her creators by having off-spring. Her pups were enriching our lives still. There were humans who couldn’t claim that much, despite living centuries longer.

      I turned right and strode up the ramp to the bridge with determined steps. Lyssa was already there and gave me a small smile. Departure in fifty-seven minutes, Colonel.

      I glanced over my shoulder as heavy spacer boots sounded on the bridge ramp and wasn’t surprised to see Dalton. He glanced around the bridge with curiosity. Nothing’s changed.

      Not up here, Lyssa admitted. I did have to replace the inertia shell you used to use. It wore out. Her smile was teasing.

      Dalton snorted. Cheap crush juice—last time I’ll make that mistake.

      I guess it’s not an issue now, I said and couldn’t help but glance at the back of his right hand. There had once been a red, curved and lumpy scar there that not even the best cosmetic therapies could remove—not that he had been able to afford any cosmetic therapy when he’d had it. The scar was no longer there because this wasn’t his original body. It was a clone that had not had its hand clamped in a vice as a medieval form of persuasion.

      Clone rejuvenation was slowly becoming an economically viable option, thanks to the work that Lyth and Laxman were doing with the Laxman Institute, but when Dalton had received his new body, it had been expensive beyond belief. I knew precisely how expensive it had been because I had picked up the tab.

      Did the cheap crush juice have long term effects, then? Lyssa asked Dalton curiously, proving that she had been thinking along the same lines as me.

      Dalton shrugged. Aches and pains. Nothing I could point to and say ‘that hurts’. Just low-grade discomfort.

      I’d seen him try to get up from the bed in the mornings and would rank it higher than low-grade discomfort, but I kept my mouth shut. The conversation we’d put aside was crowding my thoughts and I didn’t want to open it up again. Not right now.

      A small silence settled between us, while the systems on the bridge hummed softly around it. Lyssa was prepping the ship even as she stood with us, so we could seal up and jump away the moment the

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