She climbed to her feet, and the two looked out at the flurry of activity. Cutters and welders fetched components extruded by self-contained smelters. Military engineers scrabbled over the outer surfaces of the seized commercial spacecraft. Rlinda’s heart went out as she thought of the years of investment and hard work those vessels meant to the traders who had been forced to surrender them.

“Maybe I’ll sign up for one of the mapping missions to other gas giants,” BeBob muttered. “I hear General Lanyan is calling for fast pilots to go look for those aliens. Maybe they’ll give me back the Blind Faith.”

“Write your own ticket,” Rlinda said. “You know I’ll sign it.”

In comfortable silence with each other’s company, Rlinda and BeBob remained together in the dim lounge. They stared into the darkness of space, where sunlight reflected from the metal hulls and the shiny surfaces of strip-mined asteroids. Against the black-velvet universe, the bright beacons of stars shone behind dazzling Jupiter.

Finally, Rlinda stirred. “Time to get back to my one remaining ship. You’re right. I’m lucky to still have it… and for now, at least, the galley is fully stocked.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Would you be amenable to letting me fix you a nice dinner? I’ve got a few interesting Theron ingredients left, and a special new recipe I’ve been wanting to try.”

BeBob looked at her and practically glowed. He bent his arm behind his back, comically twisting it. “Ouch, okay, okay! I’m convinced.” Then he continued more seriously, “Yes, Rlinda, I’d like that very much. It could be one of the last fancy meals I’ll have in a while.”

Rlinda stood next to him, staring out at the stars. “You and me both,” she said. “I see plenty of tough times ahead.”

74: TASIA TAMBLYN

74TASIA TAMBLYN

Though Roamer commercial ships provided vital ekti and other resources for the Terran Hanseatic League, the EDF treated the “space gypsies” with distaste. Tasia figured the Eddies needed to have some sort of scapegoat until they got into a real fight with the enemy aliens. So she put up with it. She herself meant to save her energy for the right opponent.

When she’d volunteered for the space military, Tasia had been prepared for lousy treatment. She didn’t let childish insults bother her and usually made a witty rejoinder that surprised Patrick Fitzpatrick (especially when he didn’t understand her comment and had to pretend that he did). After his injury in the decompression exercise, she had hoped Fitzpatrick might be sent home to a desk job. Inventorying spampax, maybe. He hadn’t been. She foiled the criticism of her fellow recruits with superior performance in all training exercises. The kleebs could make all the snotty comments they wanted, but they knew she could outshoot and outfly any one of them.