Jess flashed a rakish smile. “I can’t let my brother get into all the disagreements with my family.” He was handsome, blue-eyed, with a vibrant personality that made him appear energetic and relaxed at the same time. “Besides, somebody competent has to take the load to the distribution ships. Can you think of a better pilot?”

The Burr engineer waved a dismissive hand. “You’re just shuttling ekti to the Big Goose. They wouldn’t know a good pilot from a blind farmer.”

The deprecating reference to the Hansa came from the original albatrosslike configuration of the early Terran trading ships—meant to look like eagles, but shaped more like fat geese. The name of the Hansa Chairman who had tried to make the gypsy colonists sign the Hansa Charter, Bertram Goswell, had added further inspiration. Roamers found the term to be suitably insulting.

Jess shrugged. “No matter. I like to find excuses to see my brother, make sure he’s not making too many mistakes.” He didn’t say out loud that he also seized upon any legitimate reason to escape the stern scrutiny of his father. Old Bram Tamblyn layered heavy pressures and responsibilities upon Jess, now that his older brother was no longer welcome as a member of the clan. The young man held on to those expectations as an anchor and never put his own wishes forward, even if old Bram rarely noticed. As the cumbersome facility cruised along through Golgen’s clouds, workers tended the ekti reactor controls, checked the distribution pipes, and lubricated mechanical systems that needed constant maintenance. Jess walked through the cargo bay, listening to the comforting hisses and hums, the industrial music made by all skymines. He loved being here. Blue Sky always seemed to be cleaner and more polished than any other skymine. Jess’s brother, Ross, was immensely proud of what he had accomplished here.

Jess trudged down the corridor, needing no help in finding the captain’s deck. Even on the workshift, Roamers wore colorful, many-layered outfits composed of scarves, billowing sleeves, hoods, and hats. Every tunic, vest, and set of trousers was adorned with frills of pockets and pouches, clips, chains, and hooks for storing a thousand gadgets, testing devices, or hand weapons. The clips kept tools in place and readily at hand, even in the low-gravity environments where Roamers spent a great deal of their time.

“How long you staying, Jess?” asked a shift supervisor who came forward through the bulkhead from his office chamber.

“Less than a day. We’ve got a supply run and a quota to meet. Obligations, you know.”

The supervisor nodded. “We’ll tune up your cargo escort and link all the struts to the ekti tank.”

“Is Ross outside on the deck sightseeing again?”

“No. I think the chief’s in the navigation bubble.”

“What’s he worried about hitting in this big open sky?” Shaking his head, Jess scrambled up the interdeck ladder until he found the navigation bubble. Though Ross had forever turned his back on the family water industry on Plumas, Jess always felt welcome here on his older brother’s facility.