In the medical suite, my drones watched Eletra pull an emergency kit out of the locker. Amena sat down heavily on a bench as Eletra got the kit open.

Ras glanced warily up at my drones, which were in a circulating formation in the upper part of the compartment. He said, “That … your SecUnit is really going to protect us?”

“Sure,” Amena said, distracted as Eletra handed her a wound pack.

Eletra opened a container of medication tabs with a groan of relief. “My back is killing me. They let us have ration bars from an emergency supply pack, but no meds, nothing else.”

Ras persisted, “You said your family owns it?”

“No, I didn’t say that.” Amena wrapped the wound pack around her injured leg. Then she almost fell over as it shot drugs for shock and pain right through her torn pants.

I told her, Tell them I’m under contract to the Preservation Survey.

“It’s under contract to the Preservation Survey.” Amena shoved herself upright again. That’s true, so why are you telling me to say it like it’s a lie?

Because “under contract” means something completely different to them. In the Preservation Alliance, it meant I’d agreed to work for the survey for a specifically limited amount of time in return for compensation. In the Corporation Rim, it would have meant the survey had rented me from an owner, the same way you’d rent your habitat or your terrain vehicle, except humans usually had warm feelings toward their habitats and terrain vehicles.

Ras seemed confused by Amena’s answer, but he just said, “We need something that will take out those drones.” He started to search through the emergency kit, and pulled out a container of fire suppressant. “This might work.”

Eletra slid down to sit on the floor. She offered Amena the medication container. “I don’t think I’ve heard of the Preservation Survey. Is that a subsidiary of another corporation or…?”

While Amena explained the concept of a non-corporate polity to Eletra (and how many polities did actually have surveys and stations and cities and so on and weren’t just people in loincloths screaming at each other), I reached the quarters and started a quick search. Some cabins were clearly unused, mostly the ones with multiple bunks that were meant for students. The beds were still folded up in the walls and there were no personal possessions in sight, just like the last time I had been here. Other cabins showed recent habitation: beds and furniture deployed, bedding in place but disarrayed, clothing and personal objects and hygiene items lying around. Like the crew had just been here, had just stepped away right before I looked in. It was creepy, with no movement except the air system making the fabric tassels of a wall decoration flutter.

Still no sign of any bodies. I sent to Amena, Don’t tell the corporates that you’re Dr. Mensah’s daughter.

I’m not stupid, she shot back. They were past the explanation of what Preservation was and were finally exchanging actual information, including their names and what the hell was going on. Amena said, “This ship attacked us right after we came out of the wormhole. How did you get aboard?”