He shook his head. “They like the ship,” he said. “Certainly they like it better than being in a bag. The ship doesn’t mind. It doesn’t actually believe they’re there.”

Several of them made more private goodbyes as well.

The Thing fussed about the luggage and made her tell it repeatedly that, yes, it was perfect, and, no, she wouldn’t change anything about it, and, no, she would not prefer the ship reabsorb this set and start again from scratch. It assuaged its anxiety by producing a small toiletry kit and cosmetic case to match.

She tried to say goodbye to Talon. He came to his doorway long enough to hug her awkwardly.

She kept thinking, what if she did become the Empress? Then she could afford to hire people like Niko and her crew. That wouldn’t be the same, would it? It didn’t seem as though it would, if the people were with her only because they wanted her to pay them.

Whether or not she would become Empress had been a matter of indifference to her before, mainly because the chances were so small that she would. The Empress had the same longevity treatments that the very rich could afford, and there was no reason to be thinking she would pass away anytime soon. Much less that of all the dozens of heirs, Atlanta would be the one selected to replace her if such an occasion should arise.

But for the first time, she wanted it. Spent time trying to figure out how to best achieve it. It seemed to her that it was a combination of acquiring skills and making the right contacts, building a network of influences that would help shape the picking of an heir and push her name to the forefront of the list.

She didn’t want the Empress to die. She didn’t want that at all, but if it did happen, she wanted events to go a certain way afterward.

How to achieve that? That was a question she intended to answer sooner or later.

She walked along the corridor, wondering how many more times she’d go along it. Skidoo appeared in a doorway and advanced on her. She stopped just short of invading her personal space, and said, “You is being leaving, and we is being togethering never.”

A tentacle extended, touched her chin. When she didn’t move away, it slid along her arm. The touch was soft and cool. She’d expected it to be moister somehow, to drag on the dryness of her own skin, but instead it slid along it, making the little hairs stand up in a trail after it. She could smell vanilla and chlorine.

She swallowed. This was more alien than she’d ever expected. At the same time, such a basic urge for every race, the urge for pleasure in touch. She reached up, curled her fingers around the tentacle.