After recovering from the stomach-wrenching effects of a hyperspace jump too close to a planet, Kressa called up the Conquest’s course on the navigation console.

  “Connie, you figured our jump wrong. We’re not headed anywhere near Maetar.”

  “Correct. We are going to Arecia.”

  “Not on these coordinates,” she said. “And I thought I told you I wanted to go to Maetar.”

  “You did.”

  “Then why are we headed for deep space?” she asked.

  “That is the course I set.”

  “Why?”

  “To prevent the Patrol vessels from determining our destination based on our initial jump.”

  “Oh. All right.” It was a common enough trick, but one that worked. “Did Thorne teach you that?”

  “Yes.”

  “So what happens next?”

  “In six hours and nine minutes, we will emerge from hyperspace and set a course for Arecia.”

  “We’re not going to Arecia,” Kressa said.

  The computer didn’t answer.

  “Connie?”

  “Waiting.”

  “I said we’re not going to Arecia.” Kressa forced her voice to remain calm.

  Silence.

  “Dammit, you’re supposed to obey me. Why aren’t we going to Maetar?”

  “Previous orders request a course for Arecia.”

  “What orders?” she asked.

  “Orders from Cameron Thorne.”

  Kressa struggled to control her rising frustration. “Thorne’s dead, Connie. You obey me now.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Then get us back into normal space and set a course for Maetar.”

  “Unable to comply.”

  Kressa clenched her fists and counted slowly to ten. Obviously she couldn’t win by arguing with the computer, so why not try reasoning with it?

  “All right,” she said in a steady voice, “let me get this straight. You have orders from Thorne to go to Arecia, but I am your operator, right?”

  “Correct. Kressa Bryant is an authorized operator.”

  “An operator? Who else is an operator?”

  “Juric Azano and Cameron Thorne are authorized operators.”

  Juric Azano? Who the hell was he? She shook her head. She’d worry about it later. “So you have three authorized operators, and you have to obey all three of them?”

  “Correct.”

  “What if they give conflicting orders?”

  “I will request clarification from the initiating operators.”

  “And if one of those operators isn’t available, what then?” Kressa asked.

  “I will carry out all orders to the best of my abilities, unless I determine doing so will cause damage to the ship.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “What if I told you that taking the Conquest to Arecia will cause damage?”

  “There is no evidence to support such a conjecture.”

  “But the Patrol is after us!” Kressa said.

  “The Patrol is after a vessel called Wincarnis, they do not know where we are headed, and Arecia is a Free World.”

  “A Free World?” Kressa scoffed. “So what?”

  “The United Galaxy Patrol does not have jurisdiction on any of the Free Worlds.”

  “When has that ever stopped them? Hell, the United Galaxy has enough firepower to take over most of the Free Worlds if they really wanted to.”

  “It is not a lack of desire that prevents the United Galaxy from taking over the Free Worlds.”

  “You don’t think so?” Kressa asked, marveling at the fact that she was discussing interplanetary politics with a computer. “What is it, then?”

  “The reasons are varied, but the primary causes are the need for the United Galaxy to use its Patrol forces to keep its own worlds in line, the infighting amongst the ruling admirals, and the opposition of the Free World Guard.”

  Kressa had heard stories about the Guard, a quasi-military force that had begun to appear on several of the Free Worlds a decade or so ago. Still…

  “I don’t know, Connie, you sound like you’re just repeating something Thorne told you about his view of the way things are, or the way he’d like them to be.”

  “On the contrary,” the computer countered. “My statements are backed by detailed analysis of—”

  “Never mind,” Kressa interrupted. “I’m sure you know what you’re talking about, but what we were talking about is you taking the ship to Arecia. You’re going to do that no matter what I say, aren’t you?”

  “Correct.”

  Kressa sighed, knowing she was beat. For now. “Do you have any idea what Thorne intended to do on Arecia?”

  “Cameron Thorne intended to deliver cargo.”

  “What cargo?” She tried to think of any items Connie had mentioned that would be good for trade on Arecia. “Give me a manifest.”

  A datacard popped from a slot at the pilot’s station. Kressa took the card, located a handheld reader, and headed for the bay.

  * * *

  Kressa ran a hand through her hair and shook her head in bewilderment. She had checked and rechecked every shipping crate in the bay, and compared their contents to the cargo manifest. Everything appeared in perfect order, except few of the items would be profitable on Arecia.

  Maybe Thorne had other cargo stashed away, illegal goods not listed on the manifest—goods the Patrol might be interested in.

  She began to search the ship, starting with the two doors that opened into the ship’s bow from the main corridor. Behind the doors were two small cargo areas designed for goods that required the more stable heat, gravity, and pressure of the freighter’s living area. One contained a sophisticated med-unit, and Kressa wondered if Thorne would have lived had he reached it.

  The door at the corridor’s bend opened into a large, cluttered bedroom that must have been Thorne’s. She searched the chamber and adjoining washroom, but found little of interest except a small cabinet with an assortment of sidearms and several datacards that contained the shipping documents for this and previous runs.

  “Connie, where did Thorne hide cargo he didn’t want the inspectors to find?” She poked her head into a control-system access hatch near the cargo bay entrance and gazed down the dark, dusty crawl space. No one had been in there for quite a while.

  “Connie, answer me,” she said after giving the computer more than enough time to formulate a reply. “I know he had a place. All free traders do.”

  “There are two compartments in the cargo bay airlock just beyond the ramp to the control room.”

  Kressa smiled. Right behind her. She turned and examined the wall. “I don’t see anything. Can you open them?”

  The smooth wall fa?ade rolled upward, revealing two hatches. The doors irised open with a quiet hiss, and she peered into the large compartments. Both were empty.

  “All right, Connie, close the doors.” She stifled a yawn. “When will we re-enter normal space?”

  “Four hours and forty-two minutes.”

  “You’re still determined to go to Arecia?”

  “Yes,” the computer answered.

  “Okay, I’m going to try to get some sleep. Wake me up when we come out of hyperspace. And try to find some reason why we shouldn’t go to Arecia.”

  “I will wake you.”

  Kressa returned to Thorne’s room—my room now, she thought with a smile—stripped, washed, and climbed into the bed. She expected to fall asleep the instant her head touched the pillow, but there was too much on her mind. She struggled to think it all through.

  The Conquest had left Terra without the Patrol knowing the ship’s real identity, and they couldn’t track the hyperspace jump, so they wouldn’t know to look for the vessel on Arecia. Maybe she didn’t need to worry about the Patrol, after all. Maybe Thorne had simply crossed the wrong people or gotten involved with the rebel forces that were beginning to emerge on some United Galaxy worlds—forces supposedly backed by the Free World Guard. Maybe that was why the Patrol wanted to talk to him. A lot of maybes, but certainly not as bad as things could have been. Looked at that way, it should be safe enough to follow Thorne’s instructions and talk to this B’Okhaim fellow in Varen. Perhaps he would be able to give her some idea of what Thorne had done to get the Pattys after him. After that, she would be careful to avoid it.

  “All right, Connie,” she said, “we’ll go to Arecia. Don’t bother waking me for the jump.”

  “Acknowledged.” Did she detect a hint of triumph in the computer’s voice? “Sleep well.”