The Good Captain

Someone had at least gotten Yan’s uncle Maxes to agree to meet her in a somewhat familiar territory— the hotel where Yan was staying. As Yan and Sid, along with the rest of their entourage, left the governor’s palace, Iri gave Yan an explanation as to her uncle’s early arrival. The remainder of the party from the Neutron Star , including Apprentice Olms, wasn’t going to arrive planetside until the morning— they were taking the elevator down, as had been the original plan per the timeline that Iri had received. This was a trip that would take some time. Yan’s uncle had— presumably— paid an exorbitant fee to loan one of the Neutron Star ’s shuttles, and land it in City One, after they jumped into the system and learned of what had happened on board the Sky Boat .

Maxes had just landed, and he would be coming to the hotel as soon as he could clear landing registration and get a taxi to take him there.

Through the limo ride, Yan felt dizzy and nauseous, pressing her forehead to the cool glass of the windows to try to stave some of it off. It didn’t help. She probably should have been upset with Sid for his power play with the governor, but all she could think about was her uncle, and what he was going to say to her.

When they arrived at the hotel, Iri took charge, ushering Yan not up to her suite, but into the empty guest lounge on the first floor. Yan let herself be pushed around like a doll, and she sat down on one of the plush couches between the fire and the huge windows overlooking the street. It was well and truly dark outside now, and neither the stars nor the huge Olar moon were visible, both obscured by thick clouds which had just begun to deposit a fresh layer of tiny snowflakes all over everything. The flakes were illuminated by the headlights of cars that drove by, and the light that shone out through the hotel’s windows.

“Do you want me to stay, or do you want your privacy when your uncle arrives?” Iri asked Yan. She had kicked Sid out of the lounge earlier, so he was nowhere to be seen.

Although when Yan looked into Iri’s face, she did want her company, she knew it would be better to meet her uncle alone. It would be better if he said whatever he had to say without moderating his tone for an observer.

“It’s okay,” Yan said. “You don’t need to stay.”

One of the cars outside came to a skidding stop in front of the building.

“That must be him,” Iri said. She looked down at the ground and watched as a tall man unfolded himself out of the taxi. He was not dressed for the weather at all, wearing a spacer’s utilitarian jumpsuit rather than a winter coat, and he rubbed his hands together and took a moment to get his footing on the slippery concrete before grabbing his single bag of luggage and striding up to the hotel. The scene was silent from so far away, but Yan could hear in her imagination the sound that her uncle’s beaded braids made when he walked with purpose— harsh clacking with each bounce of his feet and shake of his head.

“I’d better meet him in the lobby,” Iri said. She looked at Yan for a second longer, opened her mouth to say something, then decided against it, striding away.

Yan sat on the couch and waited, gripping her knees so tightly she wondered if her fingers could break from the force.

The door opened; her uncle came in; Iri shut the door behind him, leaving him alone with Yan.

Yan stood from her seat, nearly tripping over her own feet to do so. She couldn’t quite meet her uncle’s eyes, and there was a pained moment of silence as he looked at her across the room.

Then he strode towards her, clearing the distance of the room as though gravity was only half of what it was, and wrapped his arms around her. Yan didn’t know what to do, and stood stiff as a board under the embrace, her uncle’s wiry arms clutching her back. She had prepared herself for this meeting by trying to go numb, and even when she shouldn’t have needed it, it was this feeling that she ended up holding on to.

“Yan, oh my God, Yan,” he said. He brushed his hands up and down her arms, checking that she was all there, and then his hands ended up at either side of her face, forcing her to look up into his eyes— he was taller than she was by a hand's breadth.

There was concern in his eyes, and Yan wanted to slide away from it and escape, but he was holding her steady, trying to glean something from her expression, wide eyed and empty.

“Thank God you’re alright,” he said.

“I’m fine,” Yan managed to say.

“I heard what happened,” he said, and finally dropped his hands from her face. She nodded. Her stiffness seemed to allow him to take stock of his surroundings, and he sat down on the nearest couch. Yan took the seat across from him. “When I heard it, and you hadn’t written to me, I—” He broke off and looked at her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have written.”

“I thought something terrible had happened. To you.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

Something in his posture changed when he heard her tone. “I assumed that the letter that Apprentice Olms received was pure slander,” he said. “She thought so, too, which was why she allowed me to come here to find out what was going on.”

There was a moment of silence between them. Yan didn’t know what to say.

“Tell me it’s slander, Yan,” Maxes said. His voice was soft. “Some sort of political scheme—”

She shook her head, looking down at her hands. She was twisting the fabric of her cassock over her knees.

Maxes’s voice was still soft— even his disappointment or incredulity hadn’t shaken that from him yet— but he had to confirm. “You left the Sky Boat when she was under attack?”

“Yes,” Yan said. She stomped down all her excuses. It didn’t really matter that the lieutenant in charge of their expedition had ordered her into the shuttle— Sid’s later mutiny proved that she could have disobeyed him if she wanted to. But she hadn’t wanted to. She had run away. She stared at a point above his left shoulder, seeing how the gold beads in his hair caught the light from the fireplace behind him. He waited for her to say something else, so she finally forced herself to. “And by the time I came back, the Sky Boat ’s dogfighters were already…”

She pictured the wreckage, the blue livery of the small ships torn apart and strewn across the area.

“I didn’t come back until—” She had trouble phrasing it correctly. “If I thought that they would have been able to drive the pirates away themselves, I probably wouldn’t have gone back until it was over. I waited until they had already had lost so many.”

Maxes kept looking at her. “That is what the letter said.”

“It’s true. Captain Migollen wouldn’t lie.”

“Why did you go back?” he asked.

She looked up at him. “I— I had to.” And then she looked away. “But that wasn’t mutual defense. It was just…” She splayed her hands. “Too late.”

“Were you ordered to return?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “Maybe that’s worse. I don’t know. Sid and I— I made Sid threaten to steal the shuttle we were in. Mutiny—” She looked away. “I’m sorry.”

“But you did go back,” he said. “Of your own accord. And you helped the Sky Boat . Even Captain Migollen couldn’t deny that, no matter how angry she is, and how she tries to spin the story.”

“It was too late for their dogfighters. She’s right to be angry about that.” Her eyes kept finding new things to focus on that weren’t her uncle’s face: the frosted glass lamps with their warm bulbs hanging down from the ceiling, the incongruously tropical plant in the corner, the scuffed place in the rug that showed exactly how traffic passed through this room. She tried to keep her voice steady. “I’m sorry,” Yan said. “My behavior disgraced the Iron Dreams .”

Her uncle was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was cool, making an observation only. The softness had gone out of it. “You’re less charitable to yourself than Captain Migollen was to you.”

“I’m just telling you what happened. I don’t want to lie. You deserve the truth from me.”

“I would expect you at least to take credit for what you did do. You did aid the Sky Boat . Captain Migollen didn’t mention how many pirates you dealt with, but if they were able to destroy that many of the Sky Boat ’s own dogfighters, it couldn’t have been—”

“I didn’t want to,” she said. Her voice broke, and she felt the rush of tears almost overwhelm her. If she had spoken a single other word, she would have burst into ugly sobs. Instead, she blinked as hard as she could, and swallowed the knot in her throat until it receded.

“But you did,” he said. “Captain Migollen was upset about her crew, but you did help the ship. It must be political, the way Migollen is reacting— she must be trying to discredit you in the Guild for whatever reason. I don’t know.”

Yan shrugged, miserable. Laying claim to killing the pirates felt just as bad as the knowledge that she had abandoned ship when the Sky Boat needed her, but she wouldn’t be able to explain that to her uncle. “You don’t have to defend me,” Yan said. “I know you want to, for the sake of the Dreams ’ status, but it would be easier to just…”

“Just what, Yan?”

“I’m sorry that I won’t be helpful politically for the ship, after this. It might be better to distance yourself from me.” In the part of herself that observed herself, watching from above, she thought she was remarkably calm.

“Do you really think that is something that I would want to do, or even be able to do?”

“Don’t defend me to Apprentice Olms,” Yan said. “And I’ll stay away from anything that has to do with the Guild for a while. First Sandreas would let me do that. And aside from our meeting with Apprentice Olms, I can stay away during this trip as much as possible.”

“I didn’t ask to come to Olar because of Guild politics, Yan,” Maxes said. His voice was very strained, too. “I came because I wanted to see you. You don’t need to run away to avoid being seen with me, or whatever this is.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Please stop apologizing,” Maxes said. He ran his hand over his face, into his mass of braids down at his shoulders, and Yan could see how tired he was. The Neutron Star ’s typical shifts must have been out of synch with Olar’s day, which was presumably why the rest of the Guild delegation was giving themselves the long elevator ride down to the planet’s surface, to adjust.

“Okay.”

“I wanted to make sure you were doing well in your apprenticeship.” He frowned. “The Dreams doesn’t have any reason to care about Olar, or even reason to curry favor with Apprentice Olms. This was—” He tried to smile at her, but it fell rather flat and empty. “I wanted to see you succeed.”

“I’m—” She had just agreed not to apologize again.

Maxes sighed. “I hate seeing you like this.”

She looked away. “Governor Cresas will agree to anything the Guild asks. Your delegation should have an easy time. We already convinced him that he has to agree. Apprentice Olms probably won’t even need to speak to Sid and I except as a formality, to make sure we agree with whatever the terms are that the Guild works out. You can tell Apprentice Olms that, so she knows she can demand whatever she needs.” She tried to smile, too. “At least you’ll be able to see that our efforts here were a success.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

Yan wanted to apologize again, but she bit her tongue. There was nothing she wanted more in that moment than to escape, but she was trapped here with her uncle.

“I wish there was something I could do to help you,” Maxes said. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but you’re miserable. I can’t figure it out— if it’s the Sky Boat , I promise that doesn’t really matter. Not to me, and not to anyone else on the Dreams . But if it’s your apprenticeship— what is the matter, Yan?”

“It’s not,” she said. “It’s nothing— there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I don’t believe that,” he said. “If there wasn’t something that I and the Dreams had to do with it, you wouldn’t be in such a hurry to cut us out.”

“I’m just trying to protect you. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be okay.”

“I do need to worry about you.”

Yan shook her head.

“You’re my girl,” Maxes said. “I want the best for you. And whatever is happening here—” She could see the tension in his wiry frame. “I love you, Yan.”

“I know,” she said.

He took a second to gather his resolve before speaking, but when he did, his voice was firm. “When this is over, come back home with me to the Dreams .”

Yan froze completely. She opened her mouth to say something, but she couldn’t find the words.

“I don’t care about your apprenticeship— I don’t care about the rest of the Guild. If you’re this miserable being here, I want you to come home.”

“I can’t,” Yan said.

Maxes looked at her, and she at least tried to let him, trying not to flinch away. His shoulders dropped, and he leaned back in his seat. “I wish you would.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Can I ask why you won’t?”

It would have been very easy to lie, to say something about her apprenticeship and not wanting to leave First Sandreas. But her uncle did deserve the truth. “I don’t think I’m much of a spacer anymore,” Yan said. It was a relief to admit it.

Her uncle frowned. “Who told you that?”

“Nobody.”

“Yan—”

She looked back up at him.

“I don’t care what you call yourself,” he said. “You’re always going to be my sister’s daughter. And you’re always going to be the girl I raised. And you will— listen to me— you will always have a home on the Iron Dreams .”

Yan rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I know.”

“But you won’t come back with me.”

“I’m sorry.”

He smiled, but it was a sad smile, one that reached the wrinkles around his eyes, but only slowly, with his eyebrows drawn together. “I understand,” he said. “I probably shouldn’t put you in the position of asking you to ruin your career.”

She shook her head. “It’s not that.”

“Let it be that, Yan.” He stood. “I’m sure that I’ll see you again before the Neutron Star leaves Olar.”

“Alright.” She almost had told him that he didn’t have to, but she stopped herself. She stood. Her uncle held his hand out, offering it to her only to shake, but Yan instead did hug him, pressing her face to his shoulder momentarily, smelling his sandalwood soap under the familiar scrubbed-air smell that his jumpsuit hadn’t lost yet in Olar’s atmosphere. His embrace was warm and gentle this time, not the frantic rush it had been before.

“I know you’ll do well wherever you go, Yanny-girl,” he said. “But if you do change your mind, you know where to come, alright? I just want you to be happy.”

Yan nodded into his shoulder. He rubbed her back, and then she straightened and pulled away.

After her uncle left, Yan sat back down on the couch, completely exhausted. She saw Iri come in and sit down at one of the high bar tables near the window, set up her computer and start typing something. Iri’s presence was clearly an offer of companionship, but not a pushy one.

“Did you hear all of that conversation?” Yan asked.

“It’s not really my job to spy on you,” Iri said.

“I thought it was.”

“No, and I didn’t hear. Did it go well?”

Yan shrugged. “He asked me to leave my apprenticeship.”

“Since you’re still here, I assume you said no.”

“Yeah.” Yan was silent for a second. “But I do want to go home.”

“We will be, sooner than you think, probably. The First Star won’t take that long to get here. And then it will be a much faster trip back.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” Iri said. “I was being glib.” She abandoned her computer at the table and came to sit on the couch next to Yan, who didn’t turn to look at her, even as their elbows brushed. “Why didn’t you go back with him, then?”

“It wouldn’t be the same.”

“Emerri won’t be, either,” Iri warned.

“I know.” Yan closed her eyes, and Iri leaned on her shoulder. “It’s not like Emerri is even home. I’ve lived in it for months, but I don’t know if I’ve really gotten used to my apartment yet.” She, too, was being a little flippant, but that was better than anything else she could be.

“Where is home, then?” Iri asked.

It should have been the Iron Dreams , probably, but what Yan’s mind went to was a sunny dorm apartment, small and a little messy, with Sylva just out of sight, humming some mindless tune from one room over. Her Academy dorm room was even more gone than the chance of returning to the Iron Dreams was. She tried to push the image out of her mind, and she shook her head.

“Yeah,” Iri said, though Yan didn’t know to what she was responding. “I get it.”

“Do you?” Yan asked.

“The past isn’t a home you can go back to,” Iri said. With that, she pulled herself away from Yan and stood. “But that doesn’t mean that there isn’t plenty waiting for you back on Emerri.”

Before Yan could figure out what Iri meant by that, Iri was gathering up her computer and heading back out of the room, leaving Yan alone with her thoughts.

Surprisingly, Yan slept better that night. Perhaps it a built up exhaustion, or perhaps it was the feeling that she was committed to a course, in more ways than one. Politically, she and Sid would have to follow through on the threats that Sid had made, if Governor Cresas wouldn’t agree to the Guild’s terms. And, in her personal life, even if her conversation with her uncle had been difficult, acknowledging her station in a way that she hadn’t before was freeing. She would try not to go into the meeting with Apprentice Olms thinking of herself as a spacer— she was there as First Sandreas’s representative, after all. It would be detrimental to try to be anything more or less than that.

When Yan met with Sid the next morning, however, he looked worse than he had the morning before, which was saying something. He ate his breakfast with his eyes half closed, and he didn’t even see Yan waving at him to get his attention until she reached over and tugged the sleeve of his cassock. He flinched when she did, and Yan signed a quick, “Sorry.”

“What?” he mumbled back, which was quite unusual for him. Maybe he just didn’t want to put down his coffee mug.

“Did you sleep at all?” Yan asked.

“Not really.”

“Do you want to skip the, uh…” Yan consulted the itinerary that Iri had handed her as she came in to eat. “Citizens forum we’re supposed to hold? I can do it myself, if you want.”

“No,” Sid said. “I’ll be fine.”

“You can nap after that, I guess. We’re not meeting with the Guild party until dinner.”

“I should offer to do that for you.” He wrinkled his nose as he said this, clearly annoyed with her offer of relieving his workload and just looking to get back at her for it.

“No, I told my uncle that I would go.”

“How was your talk with him?”

Yan shrugged. She didn’t feel like telling Sid that she had been tempted to accept her uncle’s offer to leave her apprenticeship. He would probably never let her live that down.

“Cool. Seems like a really productive talk,” Sid said, further annoyed by her evasiveness. He crammed some buttery toast into his mouth, ending the conversation.

The day went by very quickly. The citizen’s forum went about as well as something like that could have. It was intended to be an airing of grievances about the Guild’s blockade, but all the people who asked questions had been vetted beforehand, so there wasn’t much in the way of surprises. And, with her clearer mind, Yan found it easy to embody her role as First Sandreas’s apprentice— every time she needed to speak, she would call to mind the way he stood in front of any crowd, and tried to imitate that confident bearing. She was only a shadow of it, and it was probably her title that was doing all of the work, but having a model to conform to let her take some of the personal feeling out of it. She didn’t have to be Yan in front of the crowd— she only had to be Apprentice BarCarran.

In the afternoon, when she was alone and did have to be herself again, this was when the doubts began to creep back in. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Iri had said the night before. She knew that she should write to Sylva, even if she couldn’t bring herself to call her over the ansible. Not writing to her uncle had been a mistake, and Yan knew that not writing to Sylva would break something important— if it wasn’t broken already. But as she sat in her hotel room and tried vainly to compose a letter, one that couldn’t feel like an impersonal school assignment, Yan realized that she had no idea what to say.

It didn’t help that Sylva hadn’t written to her , but, of course, why would she?

Yan was almost relieved when dinner time came around and it was time to meet with the Guild.

They were meeting in a restaurant, since the Guild offices on Olar were utilitarian and had no formal reception area. They could have met in the Imperial offices, which did have a small reception area, but Apprentice Olms had requested a meeting elsewhere. Since Yan and Sid had no attachment to the Imperial buildings, they agreed. It was strange, but Yan didn’t think much of it. It was probably just another way for Apprentice Olms to assert the Guild’s autonomy— they were not vassals of the Imperial government, and did not have to rely on the Imperial government’s goodwill, even in small matters. It was a power play, if a silly and inconsequential one.

The restaurant was quite beautiful. Like much of the Olar vernacular architecture, it was play between stone and metal and glass, but where most buildings had harsh corners and straight lines, the restaurant drew the eye around marble arches and swooping windows, all graceful curves. The interior was bright and airy, even in the private, smaller dining room that had been set up for their party. One wall was entirely taken up by a waterfall that burbled quietly down into a glass basin where little fish darted back and forth. Yan and Sid had arrived before the Guild patry, and Yan watched the fish move, almost hypnotized by the motion.

Sid looked quite regal in his formal cassock, and he had recovered slightly from the morning. At least his glasses did their part in hiding the bags under his eyes, and he could drape himself in a chair in a kind of casual way that disguised any tension in his body. He, too, was pretending to be Sandreas— Yan could tell. When she and Sid were alone, he never sat quite like that, with his legs crossed and his hands loosely folded on his knee. He was usually much more animated, with his hands free and his posture crooked, with his perpetual cheeky grin. But Sandreas often sat like this in public. Seeing Sid take up these mannerisms, and seeing how natural they would have appeared on him if she hadn’t known what his usual habits were, made Yan wonder how much Sandreas was putting on these movements like his own costume, or if over the years he had been first, they had become simply part of himself. She didn’t have much time to think about this, because the Guild delegation arrived, and she and Sid stood to greet them.

Apprentice Yuuni Olms looked about the same as she had when Yan had last seen her at the Governor’s dinner, but where she had been relaxed and happy then, her facial expression now held none of the smiling camaraderie that she had once shown to Yan. It would have been nice to think that this was just because she was here to conduct a serious conversation with the Imperial government on her own authority, rather than attend a party as a tag-along of Guildmaster Vaneik, but Yan didn’t think that was the case. Even if her uncle had convinced Olms that Yan had been painted in a bad light, there was no denying the cold truth of what had happened on the Sky Boat , and even Yan’s earlier defense of Guildmaster Vaneik probably wouldn’t count in her favor. Especially since Yan’s saving him from assassins had never been publicized— it wouldn’t help with the attitudes of the Guild members who followed Olms in.

Yan didn’t recognize them, aside from her uncle, but after she and Sid shook Olms’s hand, they were introduced. Four delegates from the Guild had been sent— Maxes BarCarran from the Iron Dreams ; a moon-faced man named Guinine Wole from the Flowerchain ; Jesse Callox, a shockingly short (for a spacer) woman from the Heartland ; and the stern looking Xiu Illiot from the Unbroken Circle . They all greeted Yan and Sid politely enough, but Yan could feel suspicion in their gazes, especially from Wole. When he shook Yan’s hand, he almost crushed her fingers with his, even though his hands were just as thin and spidery as hers were.

They all sat down at the table immediately, since spacers rarely had any sort of pre-meal meeting elsewhere. The main gathering room on any ship was the mess hall, so this shaped the way every spacer meeting proceeded, and it was comfortable for Yan to follow this custom. Yan and Sid sat next to each other, directly across from Olms. Maxes ended up in the seat farthest away from Yan, and she tried not to look at him, though she knew he was looking at her. When the food was brought in, Olms asked, “Since we’re all strangers here, who should say the blessing?”

“You can,” Yan said.

“First Sandreas would never let my master have that privilege,” Olms said.

“I think we’d like to get along with you far better than First Sandreas gets along with Guildmaster Vaneik,” Sid said.

This elicited a half-laugh from Olms and a nod from Maxes, but stony silence from the three other delegates.

“Very well.” Olms closed her eyes. “And I’ve attended enough events with the two of them to be tired of First Sandreas’s patented five-minute long blessing. I won’t inflict one upon you.” She raised her hands. “Lord, since the days of Terae, you have given us a life that cannot be lived alone. Every good thing in this world is passed from one hand to the next. You give life to grain, one man tends his fields, another man grinds wheat into flour, and the last bakes it for us to eat. When we break bread with our companions, we are nourished by Your love: we thank You for giving us bread to eat, and others to share it with.”

It was a fairly standard spacer prayer, but Yan couldn’t help but wonder how deliberately it had been chosen— was it just Olms’s favorite, or was she making a point about Olar’s situation, or the necessity of the mutual pacts between Guild ships? Yan couldn’t tell.

“I appreciate the simplicity,” Sid said when she lowered her hands and opened her eyes.

“Elaborate rites have never come naturally to me,” Olms said. “I’ll leave that duty to you, as First Sandreas’s apprentice. We spacers tend to live much more… transparent lives.”

“I think I’m quite familiar with the way spacers operate, by now,” Sid said. “I’ve spent more than enough time with Yan.”

Yan’s smile, which had already been forced, took on the feeling of rigor mortis. She took the next available opportunity to squish Sid’s foot with hers under the table, trying to get him to stop. Sid had no reaction.

“Of course,” Olms said, in a neutral tone. Yan couldn’t help but notice that Olms was strangely distracted, barely giving any consideration to Sid’s remark, even as the Guild delegates down the table had an array of frowning reactions.

“I’m sure that Apprentice Olms understands very well what it’s like to leave your family’s ship for so long,” Wole said from his seat across from Maxes. “One doesn’t typically walkabout for ten years, or leave the ship for that long without being married.”

“It was a privilege for me to attend the Academy, and a privilege that I have been able to spend so long on my father’s ship,” Olms said, only half paying attention to her own words. She was distracted because she was using the power. Yan could feel it. She was investigating the food that had been placed in front of every person at the table: first her own, then Yan’s, then Sid’s, and the rest of the Guild delegates. Yan, who had raised her wineglass halfway to her lips, as an excuse to not say anything, froze when she felt what Olms was doing.

When Olms finally released her power and reached for her own wine glass, Yan hesitated before taking a sip. Why had Olms been investigating her food? Olms had chosen the restaurant— she wouldn’t be trying to poison them, would she?

Yan met Olms’s eyes for a moment, and Olms gave an almost invisible nod and took a drink from her own glass. Yan decided to trust her, and drank. The wine stung her mouth and sat heavily in her stomach.

Now that Olms had finished her trick with the power, she could focus on the conversation again. She continued. “My father is certainly glad that I was able to spend so much time both on Emerri, and working with Guildmaster Vaneik,” Olms said. “I’m pleased to have been able to forge such strong bonds of trust between myself, various planetary governments and trade organizations, and the ships of the Guild. My father is eager to put me to use again, when the guildmaster releases me from my apprenticeship.” She laughed, a very practiced tone. “You wouldn’t begrudge him that, would you, Wole?”

“No, of course not, Apprentice.” He tilted his head. “But I think there is some part of me that will be relieved when the finders check my daughter and confirm that she does not have the privilege of being a sensitive, to be taken away from me for ten years, or forever.”

“It seems to me that everyone on the ground is eager to get their children out of their house as quickly as possible,” Illiot said. “I’ve always found that very strange.”

“It is a completely different way of living,” Callox said. “Apprentice Welslak is outnumbered among us, but even so, I won’t presume to tell him that the spacer ways are better. Were your parents eager to see you leave?”

“They always grew tired of me when I came back,” Sid said. “But I did that to them on purpose, so they’d miss me less.” He grinned, though it didn’t reach his eyes, and the half-joke fell flat: none of the spacers laughed at all.

Maxes was staying quiet during this conversation, which Yan appreciated, but she could feel his gaze on her. She tried to switch the topic. “How are you finding Olar, Apprentice Olms?” she asked.

“I could do without the cold,” Olms said. “But I don’t think we’ll have to stay here for long, so I’m sure that I will survive somehow.”

“Yes, the weather is deeply unpleasant,” Wole said. “It seems to me that all this system’s mining could be accomplished just as easily from stations in orbit around either the planet or the star. Why a couple hundred million people need to endure this climate— I’ll never understand.”

“Probably because stations could not accommodate a couple hundred million people,” Callox pointed out. “Besides, they’ve been settling this planet for a hundred years— they’re hardly all going to get up and leave because you don’t like the weather.”

“They’d have even more trouble with pirates if they were just stations,” Maxes said. “People living on planets don’t have to worry about raids.”

“‘Worry’ isn’t the way I’d describe anyone on Olar’s attitude towards pirates, that’s for sure,” Wole said. “Even their governor seems to want to lay out a fresh and inviting meal for them when they come around.”

“Your meeting with Governor Cresas went that badly?” Yan asked. Wole glared at her, as though speaking up was forbidden.

“I wouldn’t say it went badly,” Olms said. “I think that the governor may simply take longer to warm up to our suggestions than I was hoping. I’m sure he’ll come around eventually.”

“What was he objecting to?” Yan asked.

“Are you going to raise an objection about our way of negotiating, too?” Wole asked.

“We’re just very curious as to what your terms were,” Sid said, probably a little harsher than he intended to. “Governor Cresas has all the reason in the universe to agree to your demands, so unless they’re truly beyond reason, I don’t see why there would be any issue. You’re holding a sword to his throat, considering that this planet will start to starve if you won’t allow ships to trade here again.”

But perhaps he had been just as blunt as he intended to be.

Olms remained very calm. “I would like assurances that the Guild will be safe to travel in this system. You should want that too, considering what happened to you on your trip.” Olms seemed to immediately regret her words, and disguised a chagrined grimace by picking up her wineglass. The rest of the Guild delegation, excluding Maxes, had an array of scowls.

“What are you proposing, or asking for?” Yan asked, trying to keep the conversation on topic.

“First of all, considering that ship route and location information is clearly being sold to the highest bidder, I would like their entire customs and control office to be fired, and replaced with an outside staff.” Olms held up her hand to forestall any objection. “It doesn’t have to be a Guild staff— a selection of trustworthy people chosen by the Imperial government would suit us just as well.”

“How generous of you,” Sid said.

“The Imperial government respects the work that we do, and understands how vital the safety of Guild ships is,” Olms said. “And the Imperial government often has more trustworthy employees. People who aren’t already deep in Olar’s… ecosystem.”

“You’re saying they’ll be trustworthy until they begin to feel like this place is home,” Sid pointed out.

“Well, if they’re employees of the Imperial government, I doubt it would be that much of a burden to rotate them out every few years,” Olms said. “Certainly there would be some people who enjoy traveling, and a higher pay rate for doing so.”

“And what were the rest of your terms?” Yan asked.

“Again, the customs and control office is being restaffed, we would like to have some increased supervision of the material that is being brought onto our ships. The port is clearly not performing thorough enough import/export checks on things that pass through, and I have my suspicions as to why.”

“Bribery,” Yan said.

“Among other things.”

“You’re very blunt, Apprentice,” Sid said.

“The best contracts are those written in plain language,” Olms replied.

“You couldn’t just be concerned with staffing changes on the planet,” Yan said. “I don’t see any reason for the governor to refuse you if that’s all you’re looking for.”

“No, that isn’t all we asked for, though the governor did object quite strenuously. I don’t believe he thinks we should have the authority to micromanage the personnel affairs of his planet.” This statement from Olms got a laugh out of Callox.

“You’d think that he was being held at gunpoint by a cartel of customs workers for how strongly he objected,” Callox said.

“Maybe he is,” Wole pointed out.

“Regardless, that was not the only thing we asked for. We did also ask for the planetary government to provide sub-light escort ships at predetermined jump points within the system, to provide some measure of protection against pirate incursions, and to submit to an Imperial anti-corruption review.”

“Well,” Yan said, and couldn't say much more. Those last two were much larger demands than anything else. “I suppose I can see why there would be objections.”

“I’m afraid that between us, we’ve managed to put the poor governor between a rock and a hard place,” Sid said. “It will be illuminating to see which one he chooses.” He lifted his wine glass in a funny toast, though the Guild delegates did not seem to be entertained by it. “I’d bet money that he picks the rock.”

“I’m curious as to what pressure you put on the governor,” Olms said. “And why you chose to make your own demands so quickly.”

“He wouldn’t have mentioned it, of course,” Sid said. “Simply put, I don’t want to stay on this planet any longer than I have to, and it seems that the governor is not eager to solve the problem in a way that involves him making any changes whatsoever. If he does not make changes, the Imperial government will make those changes for him. Olar does not need to be self-governing. If reminding the governor what power the Imperial government would be well within our rights to exert is what you’d consider undue pressure—” Sid shrugged.

“How lucky we are that the Guild’s charter does not allow you to pressure us in the same way,” Wole said. Sid smiled, with teeth.

“It’s curious to me that you’re suddenly willing to be so generous to the Guild,” Illiot said. “I have to wonder why. First Sandreas would be far less eager to step on the citizens of Olar than you seem to be. It’s true that you would find it much more difficult to pressure us into returning to trade with Olar without any substantial changes being made, but it’s strange to me that you did not try.”

“It’s patently obvious that we are the aggrieved party in this situation,” Olms said. “I see no reason why the Imperial government should not be generous to us. First Sandreas clearly takes the issue seriously, and is willing to work with us, rather than against us. That’s why he sent his apprentices, and gave them power to resolve the issue. If he was so averse to pressuring the Olar government, he wouldn’t have done anything to interfere, and would have let us solve it ourselves.”

“Still, Delegate Illiot is right. I find it hard to believe that First Sandreas gave you the instruction to completely destroy Olar’s self government. He’s never done that before, at least. So I have to wonder if you are going so far out of your way to pressure Olar, rather than us for a reason. It’s not simply because there are personal harms that you are attempting to redress?” Wole asked.

Yan bit her lip before she spoke, and she ignored the question. “It concerns the Imperial government when pirates are congregating in a system,” she said. “I think it’s very reasonable for us to have an interest in stopping it, regardless of anything else. The Imperial government is willing to do what it takes to improve the situation here.”

“The Imperial government has never taken that much interest in stopping piracy before,” Wole said.

“We take curtailing the black market very seriously. It’s never been this blatant before, and so you’re seeing a proportionate response.”

“Perhaps,” Olms said. She tried to switch the conversation back on topic. “I do have to ask, Apprentices, if the governor does not choose to comply with our demands, are you willing to comply with them, once you’ve stripped Olar of its autonomy?”

“Some,” Yan said.

“Which ones, I wonder?” Wole asked.

“I think that it is safe to say that we will replace the entire customs and import office,” Yan said. “That is a reasonable first step. We will also undoubtedly be thorough about checking goods passing through the port.”

Olms nodded, but Wole said, “But even when you have stripped Olar of its government power, you won’t investigate the planetary government for corruption? That, Apprentice BarCarran, seems cowardly.”

“What would it gain?” Yan asked. “I’m sorry, Delegate Wole, but even if we are taking drastic steps to solve the problem, I do have to consider the feelings of the citizens of Olar. To hold public trials for their elected officials, as we replace their government with our own—”

“So, you’ll let the people who sold the locations of ships in the system to pirates, who set them up to die, walk free?” Wole asked. “Because you can’t bear to hunt down the people responsible— because you don’t really care about Guild ships—”

“That is quite enough, Delegate Wole,” Olms said.

Wole fell silent, but glared at Yan, who was struggling to retain her composure. Her uncle looked at her with a pained expression.

“When we jumped in to the system,” Illiot said, “we intentionally picked a jump point in system close to where the ship White Bird was attacked. It was difficult to spend eight hours looking at that dead husk, and then to receive the message about what had happened on the Sky Boat . It left a bad taste in my mouth, and Delegate Wole’s.” Illiot’s voice was cold and even, and she looked at Wole, rather than Yan or Sid. It wasn’t meant as an apology.

“I understand,” Yan said.

“Why did you pick that jump location?” Sid asked. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Because Apprentice Olms is not someone who looks away from the duty she has towards the Guild’s ships— as a spacer, or as Guildmaster Vaneik’s apprentice,” Wole said. “Unlike—”

“I said enough, Delegate Wole!” Olms said. Yan felt the haze and shimmer of the power around her. “If you cannot refrain from making disparaging comments towards First Sandreas’s apprentices, then I will kindly ask you to leave and allow us to finish discussing our real business.”

“I don’t understand why you are so willing to pretend that—”

“Pretend what, Wole?”

Olm’s power, which had been vague and swirling, focused to a narrow point. Yan felt Olms take hold of Wole’s clothing, the formal suit he was wearing. There was no way he could have noticed Olms doing this, but Olms could have thrown him to the floor or wall with a single thought.

“Pretend that promises these two make will mean anything. They didn’t abide by the promise of mutual defense, so—”

This was as far as Wole got. Olms pulled on his clothing, forcing him from his seat. He was light enough that she didn’t have to pay much attention to how she was manhandling him— none of the seams tore. His chair tipped over behind him. Olms wasn’t doing anything to his body itself— Yan wondered if she even could— but Wole was still so surprised that he couldn’t speak, and was instead opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

“If you have something productive to say, you may say it to me privately, later,” Olms said. “For now, I will bid you goodnight, Delegate.”

She shoved Wole away from the table, and he found that he could move his legs and walk under his own power towards the door. He left without looking back. Callox picked up the chair that had been tipped over. The sudden argument over, the room fell into a very strained silence.

“You’ll make a good captain,” Maxes finally said from down the table. “I hope your father realizes that.”

Olms, now perfectly calm— even smiling, said, “I’m sure he does.”

Without Wole, and with the other delegates having been warned by his example not to make trouble over dinner, the rest of the meal went fairly smoothly. In all, it was a waiting game— waiting to see if the governor would capitulate to the Guild’s demands, or if the Imperial government would have to follow through on the threats that Sid had made. Yan hoped that the Guild would reach a compromise with the planet before it reached that point, but she was doubtful.

“First Sandreas will be coming to Olar himself,” Sid said as the meal was wrapping up. “He should arrive in a few days. I think that if the Guild has not reached an agreement with the planet by then, First Sandreas will formally instate a new Imperial advisor for Olar at that time. It’s a reasonable deadline.”

Olms nodded. “That is reasonable. I didn’t expect him to come personally.”

“Changed plans,” Yan said. “But it gives you a little extra bargaining power.”

“That it does, Apprentice,” Olms said with a light laugh.

After the meal was over and both parties were leaving the restaurant to go back to their limos and hotels, Yan pulled Olms aside, just outside the entrance of the building. Snow swirled about them, and their breaths rose in twin columns. Sid stood a little ways away, and glared at any of the Guild delegates who tried to come close enough to hear Yan’s murmured conversation with Olms.

“I hope defending us hasn’t cost you anything,” Yan said.

Olms laughed. “No, why would it?” She buried her hands in her pockets, and Yan felt a little bad for delaying her at the door— none of the Guild people were dressed for the weather, unlike Yan in her heavy cloak. “Nomar” — Nomar Thule, Guildmaster Vaneik’s other apprentice— “wouldn’t have, but I’m not Nomar.”

Yan nodded, then asked, “Why did you check everyone’s food?”

This made Olms narrow her eyes. “You should be checking yours, too, Yan. If you don’t know how, get the pirate to teach you, and quickly.”

“Do you really think—”

“The guildmaster was almost assassinated, not that long ago. You were there. You were attacked by pirates on your way here. I’m not a believer in coincidences.” She furrowed her brow. “Things have been stranger in the past year than they have been since I became Guildmaster Vaneik’s apprentice. I don’t want to be paranoid, but I also don’t want to be dead.”

“You check the guildmaster’s food, too?”

“Of course. And when I’m not around, Nomar does.” She let out a rueful sigh. “I hope that once he releases the two of us from our apprenticeship, he doesn’t immediately end up dying of something that a sensitive could have prevented.”

“You’re his apprentice, not his bodyguard.”

Olms touched Yan’s arm lightly. “Well, it hardly matters,” she said. “Goodnight, Apprentice BarCarran.”

“Goodbye,” Yan said. She watched Olms get into the taxi and head off, feeling very strange.