“Our cells operate with great autonomy, for security reasons. We can send messages to the other cells, but it is a slow process, and each elder is expected to handle their own problems. They meet once or twice a century to discuss things, but otherwise we operate independently. Short of the total destruction of our cell, there will be no intervention.”

“Should be easy enough for us to get in there, then.”

“I don’t see how. You could drop me off nearby in the canoe, and they would let me in, I think, but I could not force them to answer me. If I come in your company, in this ship, they will recognize the vessel from your engagement with the starfish ship, and will not allow us to enter.”

“So we force our way in.”

“The station is formidably defended by terrible weapons. We could destroy it, perhaps, by weaponizing the bridge generator, but that would not get me the answers I need. The White Raven is a fine ship, but it’s not enough. We would need a much larger force to successfully target their defenses and to disable their weapons systems.”

“Funny you should say that,” Callie said.

Callie lounged in a cockpit seat, looking at the viewport, which had been converted to a screen. The woman on the screen had sneering down to an art. Her hair was all wild spikes, her cheeks were streaked with grease in a way meant to suggest war paint, and her teeth were, somehow, carved into little skulls.

“We’re not accepting new applications at this time,” the pirate queen said.

They were so close to Glauketas that there was no noticeable delay in the transmission. Callie snorted. “Of course you’re not. You can’t even feed the mouths you’ve got. Your whole business model was built on robbing smugglers and cargo ships, and now there’s nowhere for smugglers to smuggle anything to, or from, and no cargo coming or going way out here. You can’t prey on Jovian Imperative vessels because they’ve been secretly backing you, or at least declining to intervene, because they liked having you as a thorn in the TNA’s side. You’re floating out there on your fancy rock running out of supplies and wondering what the hell to do next. I bet your crews are getting restless, too. Terrified they’ll have to go to some civilized system and do honest work. Why the hell would I want to climb onto your sinking ships?”

The pirate queen, who was also called Glauketas, as all her predecessors had been, scowled. “If you don’t want to join us, Machedo, what do you want?”