"Shizz, Brindle," Tasia mumbled from the corner of her mouth, "withall that stardrive fuel we acquired, you think everybody'll get a huge boost in the next paycheck?"

He frowned at her sarcasm. "All colonies received the same rationing order, Tasia. We weren't playing favorites or picking scapegoats. Were we supposed to just let the Yrekans thumb their noses at us?"

Her eyes flashed. "But all colonies didn't start with equal resources. Not everyone's in a position to survive the same austerity measures. If a colony is already on the thinnest of shoestrings, it can't afford to start cutting threads. That's just dumb."

She sipped her bitter coffee, watching King Peter finish the brief speech. Tasia could only remember the despairing expression on the Yrekan Grand Governor's face. "Roamers would have stuck together, helped each other out in tight times."

"There's always more than one point of view." Robb laid a hand across her forearm, just to let her know what he was thinking. "Just seems like you see things only from a Roamer's perspective. I don't want to argue with you. Hey, I feel sorry for the Yrekans, too."

"But you can't do anything about it," she said.

"No, and neither can you."

Tasia knew he was right, and she went back to her quarters to have a long scrub with cool solvent sponges. She just hoped their next assignment would let her face a real enemy for a change.

36

GENERAL KURT LANYAN

Frequent reports of prowling hydrogues made anxiety run high in the Earth Defense Forces. From the Mars command base, General Lanyan dispatched supplementary patrols throughout all ten grids, though no one believed that even well-armed scout fleets could defend themselves against an outright warglobe attack.

The General became restless as he reviewed reports from the recon teams, constantly reminded of the growing list of conscripted pilots who simply "disappeared" on assignments. He was convinced they were all deserters, cowards... scum.

"Plenty of hazards in space, General," said Commander Patrick Fitzpatrick. "Hydrogues, asteroids, radiation storms. Ships could easily be lost without a trace." He had been temporarily transferred from the Grid 7 fleet after returning from Yreka and now served directly under Lanyan at the Mars EDF headquarters. Because of Fitzpatrick's family clout, the General had already made up his mind to groom the kid for a prominent position, probably close to home.

"Yes, I'm sure the AWOL pilots know all about the 'hazards of space.' We can't waste time looking for them, though I'd like to grab one by the scruff of his neck and make an example." Lanyan shoved his documents aside, switched off his screens, and stood. "I feel like a eunuch in a military uniform. We've got no weapons against the drogue bastards, and the Hansa is an old lady gasping her final breaths. We haven't made any progress in five years." He pounded a meaty fist on his desk.