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parties will track us to wherever we set down and attempt to bargain or strong-arm us into providing transportation services. I expect it’ll get ugly unless we have a plan.”

“The folk down there, they ain’t so desperate as that,” said Cajun. “Despite Malmoradan’s maintainin’ that nullies are all indentured and barren urchins, his is a limited-experience opinion o’ privilege, him bein’ ocelini and all. On my walk, I found nullies to be a salty, rugged bunch, and it ain’t exactly like they’ve never seen a starship. The space stations send food down in shuttles on the regular. Plus, if any of ‘em punches out early, they lose their share o’ the profits, whatever comes from this site. I garrontee ya, ain’t none of ‘em endured the extremes of Arsenal Bay just to give up that money.”

“Oh,” said Casey. “Remind me to consult you first regarding countdown planets.”

“Ça c’est bon. Ain’t exactly come up before, seein’ as how this is our first trip to a countdown planet together, and Malmoradan’s notoriously good at diggin’ up or just knowin’ the word on the street.”

“How do you recommend we proceed?” asked Casey.

“Spikes are sealed affairs, so we ain’t gettin’ in but one of two ways,” said Cajun. “Breachin’, which would be as difficult as it is depraved, or settin’ down inside, which means the loadin’ platform. Takin’ our shuttle down might bewilder the locals, so seems to me we should consider catchin’ a ride, maybe with the delivery shuttle from Hector’s space station.”

Sturmhardt gasped. “He owns his own space station?”

“No ma’am, he does not,” said Cajun, “And to clarify, each spike gets their supplies from one station, which is shared between three or four spikes, dependin’ on logistics. Said station in turn recycles the waste they send back for re-issue.”

“You’re only talking about zee garbage, ja?” asked Sturmhardt.

Slowly, Cajun shook his head, and he grinned. “No ma’am, I am not.”

“All the waste?” asked KranĂ©.

“Not all,” said Cajun. “Some waste—namely the liquid variety—gets reclaimed on the surface. Now, before anyone here bursts from sheer disgust, suppose those space stations were covered in greenhouses. Even then, ya think they’d make enough food for so many for ten years?”

“No, I suppose not,” said KranĂ©.

“It’s an elegant system,” said Edison. “If you don’t think too hard about it.”

“If zey offer me any food, I’m saying no. I von’t even be polite about it,” said Sturmhardt.

Cajun laughed. “I’ll remind ya ‘bout that when the hunger gets bad.”

“We’ll be bringing our own rations,” said Casey. “None of us here is accustomed to eating recycled food, and I don’t want anyone getting sick. Sturmhardt, you and Shulana won’t need to worry about it, since you’ll be staying up here with the ship. Cajun, catching a ride with the local supply drop sounds like a good plan. Work with Edison to get me the right space station. Both of you meet me in the hangar bay at oh-six hundred. KranĂ©, you have the conn while we’re away. I’ll rally our guests.”

◆◆◆

Casey’s team gathered round the shuttle’s side airlock, as Shulana and Ikunku packed and loaded their supplies. Casey regarded Orin and Mike. “April, Malmoradan, and Shona have already agreed to do this as contractors, but that’s not something either of you can do, unfortunately. Mike, since you won’t surrender Nimbus into our care—which I get—that means the only way you guys can join us is if I temporarily deputize you both. Are you willing to take the oath?”

“I’m Falcon, not Planetian,” said Mike. “How would that work?”

“Why do so many people assume the Interstellar Police Force is part of the United Planets?” muttered Casey. “We’re pan-galactic, Mike. Deputizing you is completely legitimate. In fact, the Centauri System’s Deputy Overchief is Falcon, now that I think of it.”

“How long would it last?” asked Mike.

“As long as we’re working together in an official capacity,” said Casey. “Longer, if you want to keep doing law enforcement work, but by default your tenure as a deputy expires when this job is done.”

Mike gave it some thought. “Maybe I can leverage this into a work experience credit at New Cal in place of my leave of absence. Would you be willing to write me an endorsement?”

“What’s your major?” asked Casey.

“Criminal Justice,” said Mike. “I’m planning to get into Law School in the next couple of years.”

Casey smiled and nodded. “I’m sure we can figure something out.” She guided Orin and Mike through the oath. When she was done, Malmoradan showed them how to equip the tactical vests, as well as how to use the lamps and gadgets built into them.

When everything was ready, Casey bid Ikunku and Shulana thanks and farewell. As soon as they had exited the hold, she led her team aboard and sat down for pre-flight. April joined her in the cockpit and secured the shuttle for launch.

◆◆◆

Tightly gripping the shuttle’s controls, Casey tracked the scene framed by the forward viewport. To her left, Arsenal Bay’s hazy southern pole curved up and down beyond her field of vision. Directly above her, a space station spun slowly on its axis as it rocketed around the planet, a tiny white lotus against the galactic core’s supercluster of stars.

April studied the flight data. “We’re up to sublight-5,” she whispered.

“Well, we have to catch up to it,” said Casey.

April leaned forward. “How fast is the space station going?”

“They’re all running a steady 4.6,” said Casey.

April quietly whistled. “That’s so fast.”

“It’s slower than most,” said Casey. “Think about it. The bigger the planet, the faster you need to go to maintain a stable orbit. The space stations around Rhyon are practically doing sublight-8.”

“Wow,” said April. “I had no idea.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” said Casey. “This may be your first space station docking maneuver, but it’s definitely not mine.”

Orin, Malmoradan, Mike, Shona, Edison, and Cajun sat within the passenger compartment. “Why didn’t they answer any of my hails?” asked Shona. She glanced at her comrades. “None of the space stations answered. Not one.”

“Couldn’t tell you,” said Malmoradan. He

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