The first thing she laid in it was taken down from a cupboard she hadn’t opened since filling it. Her old Free Trader coat, its material a royal purple she’d chosen herself, the front worked with buttons bearing her old ship Merribelle’s insignia, a tilted bell superimposed over a full-blown rose. She shoved it into the bottom of the bag; on top she piled other souvenirs, memories, and a few additional pistols with boxes of ammo.

But she hesitated before picking up the bag. Maybe this disaster was a sign that she needed to let go of old dreams. She’d never be a Free Trader again, never be in command of a ship and its crew, doing as she pleased. Here was some new hell that would end up in even more debt and complication and chaos. Would she be able to hold everyone together through it? That was what she needed to focus on. She left the bag there and went into the kitchen. Where was the crate that had been in her office? Thorn or Talon must have taken it to the storeroom. Well, the crate was spaceworthy. The occupant would be safer in there than outside it.

Based on his insistence, Niko was unsurprised to see Dabry appear in turn, large containers tucked under all four arms.

“What’s all that?” she snapped.

“Some things are irreplaceable,” he said. “I’ve been cultivating that sourdough for two decades now. The trader I got ethlic from told me that the strain is over five hundred years old. Not to mention the dasplen colony.”

She was about to argue the point further when she noticed what was in tow behind him, trundling along on a tether. “Momma Sky and all her pointed stars, why are you bringing that?”

“We can’t leave them behind, Captain. It wouldn’t be humane.”

She glanced around in order to make sure no one else was listening before drawing closer to him, pointing a finger at the crate that had arrived that morning. “There is no call for taking that. Whoever or whatever is inside that is better equipped to survive our current situation than any of us are. Whatever happens, salvage will show up in order to find everything of value, and at that point they can just extract them. We. Do. Not. Need. To. Take. That.”

Dabry absorbed all of this with his usual placid dignity. “I beg to differ, sir. They are our responsibility.”

“No, the moment we open that crate, they become our responsibility. Before then we have no obligation.”

“It was delivered to you, sir.”

“And if I had ordered it delivered, I would say that was a valid argument. However, I did not.”

“Someone thought that being, whoever they are, was best off in your keeping. Will you prove them wrong?”