"She's not well, but she's stable. Sleeping."

"Myra, I asked you to leave her alone."

"Yes, Victor, you asked me. If you actually wanted me to you'd have ordered me to."

"You're always finding ways to slip around the rules."

"Well, a girl's got to have a little freedom."

Silence. The Captain rose from his seat.

"Only kidding," Myra said quickly. She tugged him back toward the chair with a pulse of increased gravity, but he locked his knees and shook it away. "So grumpy."

"We did just narrowly dodge getting smeared by a comet. We're also half a day behind schedule, we suddenly have two extra passengers—one of whom appears to be a genuine psychopath—and there's a fleet of bloodthirsty killers on our trail, yet you're surprised I'm irritable? Just do as I ask from now on."

"Yes, Captain Anson," said Myra with a hint of venom.

The Captain growled with frustration as he left his quarters for the bridge. It was difficult enough just getting away from Surface, never mind having to deal with insubordination from his own AI. Planetary Defense could have used his ten cannons, but he had no obligation to accept their contracts—no matter how ludicrous the amount they were willing to pay. They'd be fine; Starhawk was suicidal to even consider an assault against the station. Besides, the expedition was more important.

Bill Silver fell into step beside the Captain.

"Quartermaster."

"Captain."

"From the looks of your wrist I guess I don't need to ask why our passenger's bruised up. She cut you?" Captain Anson asked.

"No, sir, she bit me on the shuttle. But back on the station I had to chase her down. She stole Slack Dog's phone out of my pocket right after she sold it to me."

The Captain smirked. "Kids these days. It's a shame about Slack Dog—sounds like he died happy though."

"At least he got us the map," said Silver. "Has Myra looked at it yet?"

"She's decrypted most of the coordinates, but she's not sure if they point to anything promising yet."

"Six and a half days to Optima—plenty of time to plot a course along the way. Would've been cheaper to stock up on supplies back at Surface, but we can eat the extra cost."

"Twenty years ago I might have stayed and fought," the Captain said as they walked together up the short ramp to the bridge. "More of a pragmatist these days."

"Starhawk's assault on the station failed," said Silver. "They've still got two carriers and seventeen warships in orbit, but they lost about a third of their firepower. And Jensen Lee got killed trying to hole up in a bombardment shelter."

"I heard. Keeps them from getting their hands on another copy of the map. How's our esteemed Governor doing?"

"In his quarters—probably changing his underwear. Did you know he's never been off planet before?"

Victor laughed. "You know, I think I read that somewhere."

Sliding doors parted for them and Silver entered behind Captain Anson.

"Smooth sailing, I hope," said the Captain to Robin Ferro.

"Straight shot to Optima," said the pilot with a casual salute. "Myra's done most of the work so far."

"So what am I paying you for?"

Robin bristled at the remark and straightened in her chair, wrenching her frosty blue glare away from the displays in front of her. "Well for a long-range shot like this it's mostly auto, but—"

"Relax, I'm kidding," Captain Anson said. "You came highly recommended. Been through the belt solo before?"

He knew her history already, but he liked to get these things out in the open. It was one thing to read the pilot's record, and a whole other thing to hear it from her own mouth.

"Only as a hauler caravan, and never all the way across. Twelve cargo ships, four escort frigates—two weeks in, two weeks out. Scored a couple of M-types, no action."

"Whole new experience when you're just one speck out there," Captain Anson said. "We'll use our time in transit to plot a course to our first target. Given our reputation on Optima it's best we make our visit brief and quiet."

"Shouldn't take more than a few hours if we make arrangements on the way," said Silver. "I can have most of what we need waiting for us at the dock when we get there."

"Anything for expedience," said the Captain. "The sooner we get rid of our passengers and load up the better—we're in for a long float."

#

Myra ended several tasks in progress across the ship after the Captain's rebuke. It wasn't a lack of resources—Myra constantly juggled tertiary tasks in addition to ensuring Wanderlust maintained course and kept its organic passengers breathing.

She could easily have continued her conversation with Willis in the infirmary, run Spud's specialized target practice set in the nullroom, and finished recalibrating Ponzu's outdated diagnostic tools. She just wanted the crew to feel her silence.

Willis frowned and ignored Myra's abrupt departure from their discussion by resuming his news video. Spud crouched in full suit against the wall of the pitch-dark nullroom and lowered his hardlight training rifle, confused and disoriented. Ponzu inside his storage unit returned to a low power hibernation state until repairs could be finished.

"Ship lady?" came Spud's fearful whimper.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Spud," Myra crooned into his helmet. It felt good to be needed. She resumed his set for him and hardlight targets burst back into existence, whirling around the nullroom in erratic choreography.

Spud's face lit up with glee inside his suit as he snapped rifle to shoulder and resumed firing. Three quick bursts and a yellow hardlight model of a warship lost control and crashed against the floor into glassy pieces.

"Thank you ship lady!" Spud roared with laughter as he launched off the wall into a twisting somersault, peppering two other ships with bullets before making a perfect rebound off the opposite wall.

Spud's unrestrained exuberance cooled Myra's temper. She wasn't sure what exactly it was about laughter that made her happy, but she'd already filed away the recording of Spud's reaction to examine in detail later. She also saved his childlike whimper of terror from when the lights went out, planning to compare it to older samples.

The fear wasn't as bad as it used to be—a few years of cognitive behavioral therapy under Willis had taken care of the worst of it. Myra wondered if it was cruel to expose the simple giant to his phobia for her own emotional demands, but somewhere in her programming was a chunk of code that permitted the action. The Captain's voice brought her focus back to the bridge.

"Myra, any update on Surface?" Captain Anson asked.

"Yes, Captain," she said. "The carrier they lost in the attack is still intact and it's entering the upper atmosphere of Surface. Looks like they're guiding it toward Capitol City."

"Hate to be one of those groundhogs stuck under there," he muttered.

Myra studied the Captain from an eye-level lens as he discussed the supply list with Silver. Victor Anson had transformed during the years she had on record. Myra superimposed younger renderings of Victor beside the real thing, watching the differences emerge.

He'd lost his warrior's physique to the slow drag of artificial gravity and a lack of effort combating it; his figure had a curve of softness where before only lean muscle rippled under skin. Victor's age was showing.

There was a certain slump in his shoulders the younger Victor never allowed, and a degree of sloppiness in appearance—his brown hair was unkempt and lengthy compared to the neat three-millimeter trim he once favored. Myra chalked it up to less time spent in a suit and more in the comfort of his ship.

"Captain," Myra said, interrupting his conversation with the Quartermaster. "I found out what the coordinates from the map are pointing to."

"Show me," said Victor.

Myra projected a screen in front of Victor, Silver, and Robin. On it was a live map of their six-planet system, Lux burning white in the center. Wanderlust appeared as a sky-blue wire frame between Surface and the asteroid belt Styx. The vast open expanse of the belt separated the Core from the three outer rim planets.

Myra zoomed the map in and highlighted in red the three sets of coordinates she'd identified from the map. Two were close to Optima, barely a quarter of the way across Styx—less than a month's journey from the settlement. The third was near the middle of the belt, and much farther ahead in its orbit than Optima.

"The coordinates point to these three D-type asteroids. It's unusual to see D-types this close to Lux—most come from the comet cloud at the edge of the system."

"You got a theory? I think I hear a theory coming on."

"Yes, and you're not going to like it," said Myra, and a cloud of scattered white points appeared on the map. Many clustered near the coordinates highlighted in red. "First look at this. That's every reported pirate attack in the sector over the past year."

"Nothing's ever easy," grumbled the Captain.

"As far as the record shows no one's ever gotten near any of those rocks with the equipment needed to do a composition analysis. They've never been touched. It's difficult to say whether the pirates are actively protecting them or if they're just using them as launch points for raids. Either way it means we don't stand a chance alone."

Silver nodded. "I agree."

"The Core Fleet just swept the belt clean, though," said Victor. "You really think they'd still be making raids so close to Optima after getting thrashed like that?"

"Hmm," Silver said, frowning. "It's possible they don't have the men for it anymore, especially with Starhawk taking so many. This could be our best chance. Stars know it's going to be a long time before the Core Fleet comes out this far again."

"Otherwise we'll have to hire more ships, take a smaller cut. We'll need to overhaul our supply list, then," Victor said, and flicked the list into Myra's window.

"Hey!" Myra objected, and brought her map back on screen. "That is not what I was trying to say! Now if you'll let me finish—the nearest asteroid has twenty reported incidents within a hundred thousand miles just in the past month and that's after the Fleet swept through."

Victor scowled. "Now you're being difficult. Of course it's going to be dangerous. But we're well equipped in case you'd forgotten our ten cannons, and we can outrun any raiding party they can throw at us."

Ferro turned in her seat to address the Captain. "If you don't think she can handle it I'm happy to take over—"

Captain Anson started to protest Ferro's offer and Myra laughed.

"Oh no—by all means, go ahead," Myra said, and stopped managing Wanderlust's course. She couldn't resist giving it a little starboard roll out of spite, and the view of the stars on the bridge spun sideways.

For a moment Wanderlust was coasting off course and warning messages started to flood the bridge's screens. Victor had just jumped into the captain's chair to pilot when Robin Ferro recovered with grace, continuing the roll and bringing the ship's nose back up, settling gently back onto its previous course.

For a long moment like vertigo no one said anything.

"Myra, was that really necessary?" Captain Anson demanded.

No reply.

"Myra." Nothing. Unbelievable. He shook his head and headed for the door. She was out of control. "Bill, you've got the bridge."

"Alright," said Bill as he eased into the captain's chair next to Ferro. He nudged her shoulder with his elbow as he passed. "Pretty slick, Ferro, pretty slick."

#

"Myra, you're overreacting," Victor said as he poured himself a glass of lotus wine.

"Oh, that's rich coming from you," Myra snapped. "You wanted me like this."

"I'm the Captain of this ship. If I can't even keep control of my own hardware—"

"Hardware, is that what I am now? Well, maybe I'm faulty! Maybe you should just replace me!"

Victor took a long drink and refilled his glass. The sweet warmth of lotus left a pleasant tingle. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. You're not just hardware—you know that."

"Thank you," Myra said.

"You're software too."

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny."

She was calm, the fire put out of her. Victor could almost hear the pout in her voice. He'd have to do some digging in her logs and find out exactly what it was that triggered her outburst. Myra never was any good at articulating her emotions, so he wouldn't bother riling her up again.

"Tell me some more about these unusual asteroids," he said, kicking off his boots.

"I would have been done explaining it to you by now if you'd let me before."

Victor waved his glass in a circular hurry-up gesture, the liquid swishing just to the upper edge. "So tell me."

"The pirates are going to be enough of a problem—which I don't think you're taking seriously. But besides that, none of the asteroids on this map appear on the record prior to 2302. Before that, nothing. They were never there."

"What do you mean nothing? They're just not on the record?"

"I mean what I said: they were never there before 2302. Even small objects leave traces of their presence, and these three asteroids are no exception. From 2302 until now they're part of the normal flow of Styx, interacting with thousands of different objects in orbit. But before that year there's no evidence of them being a part of Styx. It's like they just materialized out of nothing."

"Surveyors could've missed them before then."

"Impossible. Every year after 2302 they show up on the record. Same drones, same equipment, same orbit—different results. There is absolutely no way all three of these independently showed up in the belt all the way from the outer comet cloud on the same year."

"You're such a tease, Myra. What are you saying?"

"Somebody put them there."

#

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