I’d taken the appointment with the Navy simply because it was a real biology job that sounded interesting. Straight out of the Xenos Science Faculty I wasn’t likely to get much without using my family connections, and if I did that I’d become a decorative wall plaque in a lab’s reception room. I wasn’t going to be dazzling the audience at academic conferences, but I’d read biology because I was interested in it and I wanted real work.

  Then my tutor, Professor Equerry, called me in for a conference. A former student of his, Doctor Margot Veil, was working in the Biology Department of the naval survey service. Doctor Veil had written to ask Equerry to keep an eye out for a well-born graduate who might be interested in distant travel and really exotic life forms. It would be a chance to do unique work at the very beginning of a career.

  I frowned at the birth requirement, but Equerry explained that the position was on shipboard and the Navy was more class conscious than Academe. Doctor Veil’s captain completely ignored her. She hoped to have a junior in her department who could interact with the captain on equal terms.

  That wasn’t precisely what I wanted, but no one else was going to give me the position I wanted either. I didn’t need the money—the real money in the family had gone to my uncle’s branch, not my dad’s, but we weren’t short. Regardless, I wanted to do something and analyzing the biota of planets which had never before been visited by a Cinnabar scientist certainly sounded like something to do.

  I’d initially joined the survey ship Goliath on Wittenberg, intending to transfer to the Far Traveller in six months’ time. In fact I had only about a month on the Goliath before the ship was badly damaged while surveying routes, losing two antennas while in sponge space.

  I learned later that it had been a very dangerous accident and that the hull itself might have broken up. All I knew at the time was that something had gone wrong and that the Goliath was making an unplanned landing on Morroworld.

  Captain von Hase of the Goliath sent courier missiles to several locations and also canvassed starships in Morroworld and its system. I was completely out of my depth, so I could only listen and hope I understood—or at least that I looked like I did—when von Hase or one of his juniors rattled off information about my status.

  In ten days after the Goliath’s emergency landing, I boarded the freighter Belleisle, bunking with the crew on the large bridge because she had no passenger compartment. To my surprise Joss came with me. I knew the hunter to look at on the Goliath—she was unmistakable—but I’d never spoken to her. The rest of the Goliath’s crew would stay aboard and limp back to Cinnabar when the rigging had been patched up sufficiently.

  I had the impression that von Hase was at fault for the Goliath’s condition or at any rate feared he was. He seemed to think that my father was Senator Harper, a mover and shaker in the Senate though out of power at the moment. That was my uncle, Harper of Forwood. He and my dad were on good terms, but I very much doubted that anything I said would cause Uncle Ted to interfere in a Navy House decision to punish an officer for dereliction.

  The only concession Captain Blasey of the Belleisle would make after we arrived on Quan Loi was to radio the Far Traveller which was several hundred miles away. He announced that someone would pick me up, and that the Belleisle was no longer responsible for my meals or anything else to do with me. I had plenty of money for my keep, and being cut off from the monotonous rice and fish on the Belleisle was no hardship; but I wondered what I was supposed to do if transport didn’t arrive before dark.

  As it turned out the transport—the 4512—was arriving while the sun was barely beyond midsky. That at least had been a needless concern.

  The aircar settled to the ground in front of us. I hadn’t been sure there was enough room: The fan housings and plenum chamber made the vehicle considerably wider than the wheeled trolleys the port staff used to transfer cargo. The path was hard surfaced, but it lay beneath water-weed which the most recent exhaust surge had lifted from the harbor surface.

  I stepped forward as the cab door opened and heard the officer in a gray uniform call back to his driver, “Now all we have to do is find Lieutenant Harry Harper.”

  “That would be me,” I said. I wondered if I was supposed to salute now.

  The officer straightened up like I’d jabbed him with a stick. His eyes focused on me and he said, “Harper? Well, if you are, this isn’t as hard as I was afraid.”

  He walked toward me, a fellow in his early twenties. His hair was darker than mine and curlier than mine, but there wasn’t much to choose from between us. Except that he probably knew what he was doing and I certainly did not.

  I met him and thrust out my hand. That might not be protocol, but it was friendly and positive so it couldn’t be very badly wrong.

  “Good to meet you, Harper,” he said, taking my hand and shaking it firmly. “We’ll get you to the Far Traveller where Captain Bolton will sign you in. I’m Rick Grenville, third lieutenant on the Far Traveller. I suppose you’ve got luggage?”

  “Well, yes, I’m afraid I do,” I said. I pointed into the shed where my seven cases were stacked. “I didn’t know what I was going to need, so I’m afraid I overpacked. Will this be a problem?”

  “All of this?” Grenville said, staring deeper into the shed.

  I turned my head and remembered Joss, standing quietly a little behind me. But I’d deal with that after this. I repeated, “Is it going to be a problem?”

  I wondered if I could pay for extra luggage. Probably not on a warship. It hadn’t been a problem on the Belleisle, since the freighter had only a half cargo at the time.

  The driver had gotten out and walked over to us also. He said, “Sir?” He was looking toward Grenville, which made sense. “Bio Section has a lot of pressurized specimen storage, so unless Veil has a problem—which I don’t see happening—it’ll be fine. And there’s stowage on the outer hull for anything up to a couple aircars. You didn’t bring an aircar, did you, sir?”

  “No,” I said, “but I was beginning to wish I had before you arrived. At least if Captain Blasey would’ve told me which direction to drive to find the Far Traveller.”

  “Well, we’ll get you there fine, Harper,” he said. “Let’s start shifting this luggage.”

  He paused and looked straight at me. “Say,” he said. “What ought I be calling you? Your lordship?”

  I cleared my throat, feeling embarrassed. “Well, technically,” I said, “I’m Lord Harper or I guess Lieutenant Harper. What I’d much prefer, though, is Harry—if that’s proper in the Navy. What I’m not is Harper. While my dad is alive, that’s him, Harper of Greenslade—or my uncle, Harper of Forwood. When dad dies, my sister Emily will take over the Greenslade title.”

  Grenville smiled broadly at me. “Not something I’d ever had to learn about before,” he said. “And I’m Rick. Harry is fine for me, though Tech 2 Kent here”—he nodded to the driver—“will call you El-Tee or sir.”

  “Right?” he added, looking at Kent, who nodded agreeably.

  “And a bit of info for you, shipmate,” Rick continued, “since you probably don’t know much more about the RCN than I do dinner parties in Great Houses. We’re RCN from the inside. ‘The Navy’ is what civilians call us—or Land Force pongoes, I suppose. Okay?”

  “Thank heaven somebody’s teaching me things for a change,” I said. For the first time I could imagine doing something other than trying to keep out of everybody’s way aboard ship. “Some of these cases may need two of us, so if somebody will grab the other end, we can get me to the Far Traveller while it’s still daylight.”

  “I’ll help,” Joss said, reminding me again of her presence. “And Lieutenant Grenville? If you can fit me in, I’d really appreciate it. I’m hoping to sign on with the Far Traveller myself as a Bio Section hunter.”

  Rick looked at her. The scars and tattoos should have made her conspicuous in any company, but she stood as quietly as the posts supporting the shed roof and aroused no more attention.

  “If you don’t mind riding in back with the gear,” Rick said, “I don’t figure you’ll add more to the load than the fans can handle.”

  “Sixty-three kilos,” Joss said with a grin which the scarring made grotesque. “And a time or two I rode in a plenum chamber, being very bloody careful not to let my legs slip.”

  “The mass and volume aren’t a problem,” Rick said. “But I can’t promise you a lift back here if Doctor Veil turns you down.”

  “This isn’t a place I want to come back to,” Joss said, taking the other end of the packing case I had touched. I started to lift and found that the hunter was at least as strong as I was. “We’ll hope that he doesn’t turn me down.”

  “She,” I said, duck-walking toward the open back of the car to keep from banging my knees. “Doctor Margot Veil is a woman.”

  Rick and the driver grabbed the next case in line. “I wonder, Harry…,” he said. “Have you got other uniforms than your Whites there?”

  “Oh, goodness, yes!” I said. “Did I do wrong? I thought I should wear my best for reporting to a new ship.”

  Nobody aboard the Goliath had said anything, but they—the officers, I mean—were all so busy after the ship lost two antennas that I don’t think they even noticed me. If it came to that, they pretty much didn’t notice me before the trouble.

  “No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Rick said. “But on board we pretty much wear utilities, and they’re good enough for the places the Fart mostly lands too. Sometimes the locals don’t even wear pants, so there’s not much point in dressing to impress.”

  Joss and I got another crate. “I’ll be glad to get out of this cummerbund,” I said. It was especially awkward for shifting luggage now, but I hadn’t expected to be doing that when I dressed this morning. At home I’d always had servants and I’d expected that to continue on shipboard, but apparently Biology Section personnel were outside the ship’s company. It hadn’t been a serious problem on the Goliath, though I had to keep reminding myself that I was responsible for my own clothes, for example.

  We got the seven large crates moved. Kent got into the back of the truck and adjusted them slightly for balance in the air. While he did that, I picked up the document case that I would carry in the cab with me.

  “Guess we’re ready to go,” Rick said. “You want the outside or middle seat?”

  “Outside if you don’t mind,” I said. “This is the first time I’ve been off Cinnabar you see, and it’s, well, exciting.”

  “We’ll hope that Kent keeps it from being too exciting,” Rick said. “You’re welcome to see as much of Quan Loi as you care to, though.”

  He glanced at the document case and said, “What’s that, if I can ask?”

  “Captain von Hase gave me data chips to carry to Captain…Bolton, he thought? Of the Far Traveller. And Doctor Howe of Biology Section is sending information to Doctor Veil.”

  “Well, let’s do it, then,” Rick said. He hopped up the step in the plenum chamber and slid over to the middle of the seat while Kent boarded from the other side. Joss was in back, visible through the rear window.

  The driver checked his instruments, then ran up his fans. We slid off the slight slope toward the harbor, then gained speed and zoomed up to fifty feet while curving eastward.

  I was finally on the way to a career!

  * * *

  The aircar had dual hand controls rather than a central yoke, so Rick had to watch that his left knee didn’t get in the way if Kent brought his right arm down fast to bank to the right. There was plenty of room, but he had to be careful.

  Harry seemed a decent fellow, despite wearing his Whites. It was hard to believe that a lieutenant didn’t know that much about protocol, though.

  Aloud Rick said, “How long have you been in the RCN, Harry? If you don’t mind my asking.”

  Harry gave an embarrassed laugh. “Well,” he said, “I don’t know that you’d say I ever was. What happened is that when Doctor Veil accepted me for the position, the personnel department from Navy House sent me a message saying that I’d be ranked as a lieutenant with seniority dated from my twenty-first birthday—that’s three years ago. And I asked dad’s secretary to pick up the sort of uniforms I was going to need.”

  Rick laughed whole-heartedly. “Look,” he said, “if that’s the kind of life you’ve had and you’re still willing to muck in and haul baggage, I’m glad to have you on the Fart. Ah, that’s the Far Traveller to us and probably to everybody else in the RCN.”

  “I’d figured that out,” Harry said cheerfully. “Some civilian skills do transfer to life in the RCN.”

  He furrowed his brow as he thought, then said, “Come to think, I’m a lieutenant in the Sheet Island Space Fencibles. But that’s just because my uncle owns Sheet Island. We have a very pretty parade uniform, and I did get some training in ship handling. I sincerely hope that we won’t have to serve as Cinnabar’s last line of defense, but I’m sure we’ll die bravely if it comes to that.”

  It was a moment before Rick was sure that Harry was joking. When he decided it had to be very dry humor—humor you could build a desert with—he laughed. He hadn’t been around enough nobles to be sure how common Harry’s sort was—but not very common, he’d guess.

  “How did you happen to join the Fart?” Rick asked. He knew he was going to be grilled about the new lieutenant by every other officer on the ship, starting with Captain Bolton. Since Harry seemed happy to chat about himself, this ride was a good way to answer their questions. Rick had stories which would keep him in drinks at every RCN bar he entered for the rest of his life.

  They continued to chat for the next three hours. Harry was getting sleepy but willingly talked about his family—two elder sisters: one a politician under their uncle’s protection; the other a colonel in the Land Forces whom Harry said would be Chief of the General Staff someday if she didn’t get killed first. Rick hadn’t been looking forward to the duty, but he was thoroughly satisfied by the time Kent curved them down onto the landing stage near the stern of the Far Traveller.

  The car was overflying a reed delta. From higher up it would be a blotch of bluish gray, but at only fifty feet in the air the individual reed stems were visible. Rick hadn’t seen any signs of a watercourse on the flight from Haven. Now that Harry was peering down intently, Rick began to wonder what he might have missed.

  “What?” Harry said. “Doctor Veil asked for me, so I was sent out to the Far Traveller. Since she was still working up, I was assigned to the Goliath which was supposed to meet you on Quan Loi, but it got wrecked on the way on Morroworld.”

  “I’m surprised that Doctor Veil had that kind of influence at Navy House,” Rick said. In fact he was utterly amazed. Biology Section was very much the poor relation, even aboard the Far Traveller. That Veil would have a say in the appointment of someone classed as a commissioned officer in the RCN—which Veil was not—beggared belief.

  “That bird flying there!” Harry said, pointing. “Do all the birds on Quan Loi have four wings?”

  Rick shrugged. “You’ll have to ask Veil,” he said. “I’m not much interested in birds.” He grinned. “Except the two-legged kind.”

  “All the vertebrates here have six limbs,” Kent said. “The flying ones modify the first and last sets into wings. The boss says they’re pretty well catalogued on Bryce, and she’s got the files since peace with the Alliance.”

  Rick had been thinking of Kent as simply a driver. He suddenly realized that Tech 2 Kent was also a member of Bio Section and had been for long enough to have learned things—even though he had no more specialized training than Rick himself did.

  “Oh, that’s wonderful!” Harry said. “Do you suppose she’ll let me…? But of course! I’ll have access to all the department’s holdings!”

  He realized Rick was looking at him expectantly and said, “Oh, I’m sorry. Well, it didn’t occur to me that there was anything unusual in a professor choosing his assistant. Hers, in this case.”

  Rick shrugged. “The ways of Navy House are beyond the ken of mortal man,” he said.

  Kent swung the car out over the sea. After looking down at the sandbanks longer than Rick had found them interesting, Harry turned to him and said, “I was told on the Goliath that the Far Traveller would be different but it probably wouldn’t matter to me. Can you tell me how they’re different, Rick?”

  Rick pursed his lips as he thought about what he knew of the Goliath. “They’re both modified from light cruisers…,” he said. “I haven’t been aboard the Goliath but when we’re back on the Fart I can check and correct anything I get wrong off the top of my head. The main thing is that our missile magazines on the Fart have been turned into pinnace hangars. We’ve got four pinnaces aboard so the ship herself doesn’t have to make all the soundings. From what I heard, it was while sounding that the Goliath lost two antennas.”

  Harry nodded. “I don’t know the details,” he said, “but the trouble happened while Bio Section was at the base on Morroworld. All nonessential crew were landed while the ship was sounding because insertions and extractions are so awful.”

  He looked up and added, “Do you get used to them?”

  “Nobody I know ever did,” Rick said. “Sorry.”

  After a moment, he added, “It’s pretty unusual for a gradient between two bubble universes to be so steep that a ship loses an antenna. A well-found ship, anyway, and I know the Survey Branch is inspected to regular RCN standards.”

  “There was something funny about what happened,” Harry said, “but nobody talked to me about it. Maybe it’s in the report”—he patted the document case—“Captain von Hase sent to the Far Traveller?”

  “Maybe,” Rick said. It was as good an answer as any; he sure didn’t have a better one himself.

  “Welcome to your new home, shipmate,” Rick said with a broad smile.