Given the distance, it took three minutes and fifty-three seconds for McKee’s hail to cross the vacuum between Jessica Epps and the unknown warship. Their closing velocity reduced the range by almost sixteen and a half million kilometers during that time, which meant that it required only a shade over two minutes and a half for the other captain’s reply to arrive.

McKee twitched visibly in her chair when it did. Then she turned to her captain.

“I think you’d better listen to the direct feed, Ma’am,” she said.

Ferrero started to ask her why, but then she shrugged and nodded, and a harsh, strongly accented Andermani voice sounded from the bridge speaker.

“Jessica Epps, this is His Imperial Majesty’s Ship Hellbarde, Kapitän der Sterne Gortz, commanding.” The male voice’s tone carried a powerful dose of something. Ferrero couldn’t precisely identify what that “something” was, but she didn’t much care for it. “We are in a superior position to intercept the vessel you are pursuing. We will deal with it. Break off. Hellbarde, clear.”

Ferrero understood McKee’s reaction to that brusque message perfectly. Captains of warships of sovereign star nations didn’t necessarily have to waste fulsome military punctilio on one another, but there were certain standards of courtesy. This message was little more than a curt dismissal, an instruction to get out of Hellbarde’s way which did not even respond to Ferrero by name. Addressed to a warship of a navy which had so recently ratified its claim as the most powerful one within several hundred light-years, it amounted to a studied insult. Moreover, under established interstellar naval protocols, the fact that Jessica Epps was already clearly in pursuit and overhauling before Hellbarde entered the chase gave her priority in claiming the prize. As Ferrero had just observed, this was her bird, not Hellbarde’s.

“Put me on-mike, Mecia,” she said flatly.

“Aye, aye, Ma’am.” McKee tapped a command into her panel, then nodded to her commander. “Live mike, Ma’am.”

“Hellbarde, this is Captain Ferrero.” The CO forced her tone to remain pleasant but allowed an edge of crispness to intrude. “We appreciate the offer of assistance, but we have the situation in hand. Be advised that we will be firing our initial warning shot in approximately—” she checked the sidebar on her tactical plot “—eighteen standard minutes. Captain Ferrero, clear.”

She waved one hand, gesturing for McKee to go ahead and transmit, then leaned back in her chair, wondering what in the hell this Kapitän der Sterne Gortz thought she was playing at. It wasn’t as if a ship the size of the pirate they were chasing was going to be worth an enormous amount of prize money. No navy would buy something as small and lightly armed as a typical pirate vessel into service, so the only real possibility for prize money would be the thousand dollars of “head money” the Star Kingdom paid for each pirate captured—or killed resisting capture—in the course of a warship’s cruise. Given the small size of the current candidate, that probably wouldn’t amount to much more than forty or fifty thousand to be divided amongst Jessica Epps’ entire crew. Neither Ferrero nor her personnel were out here expecting to get wealthy capturing pirates, but there was still a principle involved. Not to mention the fact that routine relations between interstellar navies required a certain minimum level of courtesy to be maintained. After all—“Missile launch!” Harris snapped suddenly. “Confirmed multiple missile launches!”