"I'd be delighted." Booce looked around at his crew and added, "We'd all be delighted."

Gyifalcon's hull sported handholds everywhere. The Navy men spaced Logbearer's people high along one flank. There were shelves for feet and straps to circle a waist (or just under the armpits on Rather). "Fighting vessel," Clave whispered to Debby. "They can cover the hull with archers."

Three Navy worked aft, around the motor. They ignored the civilians.

Something green was trying to grow on the wooden hull. Fluff, maybe. The wood had been scraped recently. Rather noticed that much before the rocket fired.

If Wheeler was trying to impress a barbarian dwarf, he succeeded. The rocket roared and spat flame. Rather felt his blood settling into his legs. The log's rough bark surged past, accelerating. Aft, Wheeler and Murphy used toothed gears to point the nozzle. In a way it was more impressive than the CARM. You could see how it all worked.

The roar of the motor would cover his voice (and the fear in it). Rather asked, "Why don't they let us inside?"

"Classified. Nobody knows what's in a Navy ship," Cariot said. "We haven't seen the whole crew, I'm sure of that. Rather, I noticed you staring at the, um, redhaired woman?"

Rather told a half-truth. "She looks short. I mean, it's surprising, because she's the same size I am. Mark never looked short."

Cariot seemed to relax. "Well, no. He was bigger than you when you were growing up."

Wheeler moved the nozzle ten degrees to port. The ship slewed around, spraying flame. He swiveled the nozzle starboard; the rotation slowed and stopped, and Gyrfalcon decelerated. It eased to a stop less than a hundred meters from the blister in the trunk.

"The bandits almost had it torn loose," Wheeler observed.

Booce nodded.

The same four Navy personnel accompanied them to the Wart. Three set to examining the blister that had grown up around the metal and the matchet-chewed wood that extended far back behind it. The fourth sought out Rather. "Petty Wheeler said you might have questions to ask me," said Bosun Murphy.

Rather was not really thinking of joining the Navy. He didn't say so. "I don't know enough to ask good questions."

She smiled enchantingly. "Ask bad ones. I don't mind."

"What are the vac suits? Why are they important?"

"They're old science, as old as the Library. They're invulnerable," she said. "The highest fighting rank is Guardian, and that's the rank that wears the vac suits. There are supposed to be nine Guardians. We've got eight. This-" She rapped her helmet, then the plates on her thighs. "-It looks like this, but all over. You'll get as high as Petty just because you're the right shape, and then you find out if you actually fit into a vac suit."

"Do you?"