She shrugged it on and it fit perfectly, clung to her form as she straightened even taller than she normally held herself.

“It seemed a better choice than a pirate uniform,” Dabry said.

“Indeed.” She saluted him gravely and he returned it.

“You’ve no objection to becoming a Free Trader?” she asked. “You don’t want to go back to your home planet?”

He shook his head. “Everything I have is here.”

A few days later, they were almost ready to depart. The Thing had taken on plenty of fuel, and they had all done some shopping in order to accumulate its first culinary cargo, although Dabry had insisted on being the one to make a majority of the decisions.

He’d also turned the ship’s gardens around quite a bit, converted two unused spaces into ancillary space for them, and installed more grow lights and racks, as well as a few chambers that were darker, one suited for fungi, and the other which he refused to discuss, saying simply they’d know when it was time.

The insurance money had come through, and much of it went toward that cargo, although some had gone to fitting out a new kitchen, taking a great deal of care to insulate the machines so they would not irritate the ship’s tender flesh. The small remainder was something that Niko set aside for future contingencies; they all agreed that it was better to have that safety net than to worry about outfitting the Thing in luxury, although Skidoo insisted that they all remember that it could be an option sometime in the future. In the meantime, they made do with what the ship could produce for them, which was an astonishingly wide range and not really that much of a hardship.

Niko re-created her office bedroom, although with considerably more space than in the original. She had already managed to clutter it thoroughly, and the Derloen ghosts swam through every once in a while as though recognizing it.

That was where she was when the ship found her in order to deliver some news.

“Captain,” the ship said. “There is a delivery for you.”

Niko put down the logbook she’d been studying. From Extos, Pet could have gone in three major directions.

It wasn’t that Niko was keeping tabs on them, simply that she … wanted to know.

“What is it?” she said.

“A delivery bot with a letter.”

“A letter? Like in an envelope, made of actual substance?”

“This one appears to be paper,” the ship confirmed.

Intrigued, Niko went to see what it was.

The delivery bot reminded her of the one that had originally brought the crate holding Atlanta, although it was a half meter smaller, and its colors were green and blue. It thrust the data pad at her. “Sign for acknowledgment here,” it demanded.

“Could I see what I’m acknowledging first?”