She grinned. “I grew up on a farm. When one of the caprids had a kid, I lifted the baby over my head. I kept lifting that kid over my head every day and when it was full grown I could still lift it, as easily as I had that first day.” That was a lie, of course, but it was a story she’d heard about a muscle-bound boy she’d seen at one of the festivals, and she’d always found it delightful in its unlikeliness.

  “I must find one of this kid,” the bodybuilder said.

  Bianca returned to her room so she could shower in private – the Letnev tended to sneak glances at her when she used the communal showers in the gym, which was probably because she was human, a completely different species than them, and not because they were in awe of her royal nature. Although to be fair, she didn’t know what the crew had been told about her – Voyou claimed he’d been deceived about her nature too. They probably thought she was some kind of elite. It was much easier to tell hundreds of people the same story than to expect all of the people on board to keep a secret, after all. Or perhaps the captain hadn’t told them anything at all. The Letnev weren’t big on sharing information, she’d come to learn. They were an elitist military hierarchy with a strong streak of bureaucracy. She smiled. Those were all terms that would have been mostly meaningless to her a month ago, since none of them had much bearing on her life on Darit.

  It was amazing the things you picked up in the course of learning a new language, since you couldn’t achieve true fluency without understanding the cultural context of the tongue. For instance, the Letnev liked darkness, and they found tunnels and caverns comforting, and those qualities were reflected in their idioms – instead of “over the horizon” they said “beyond the chasm,” and instead of “the sky’s the limit” they said “we venture into the endless dark,” and other things like that – “bright stars” was a mild curse. It was odd how she’d never thought about the nature of language this way before. Like so many things lately, the insights just came naturally the moment she gave a subject any thought at all.

  When she got to her cabin, Voyou was waiting outside with a woman Bianca hadn’t met before. “This is First Officer Richeline,” Voyou said. “She is the captain’s right hand, and she came to bring the contract personally.”

  “Are those paper?” Bianca had seen paper books at the Halemeeting hall, but they weren’t common. Almost everything was digital, even on Darit.

  “They will be scanned and entered into the central database, of course,” Richeline said. “But we begin with paper. We are traditionalists in the Barony. Shall we go over the terms?”

  Bianca showed them into her cabin, and they folded down her desk and clustered around it. The documents were printed on thick, heavy paper, festooned with seals and sigils. The text was in her own language, alongside the Letnev tongue, and Voyou assured her the words were as identical as possible. Bianca could read Letnev well enough by now to spot-check and confirm that for herself, fortunately. “What’s this about a seventeen percent split?” Bianca said. “That seems impossibly low.”

  “I am authorized to go up to twenty-one percent.”

  “How about twenty-one percent for you,” Bianca said.

  Voyou and Richeline conferred furiously in Letnev, and Bianca listened in; they were arguing about what the captain would accept, and what the Baron would accept, and finally Richeline said, “Twenty-five percent, and you get to keep all the clothes and jewelry you have received. Understand, twenty-five percent of the treasure we expect to acquire will be enough for you to buy your own system.”

  “What if the vault is empty, though?” Bianca said. “We’re going to need to set a minimum floor for my compensation, regardless of the value of monies and goods recovered – I can’t possibly do all this purely on spec.”

  Another furious conference, this time with expressions of shock from Richeline that a simple farm girl was so adept at negotiating, and speculation that she must have been in charge of haggling for animal feed or something back home. In truth, Bianca had never had much to do with the business side of things, but it seemed she had a knack. She was discovering all kinds of knacks lately. Anyway, even if the deal had struck her as perfect, she would have argued several points. The Letnev didn’t respect anyone who didn’t bargain hard and negotiate for every possible advantage. Their words for “contract negotiations” and “total war” were close cognates.

  They agreed on a minimum level of compensation, and set deadlines for when she’d be released from the contract if they failed to find this treasure (she didn’t want to be stuck roaming the galaxy on the Grim Countenance for years if the search proved fruitless). She even negotiated a better deal for Darit in terms of the colony world’s tax burden, though it meant giving up some things she could have gotten for herself.

  In one of their huddled conferences Richeline insulted her rather colorfully, but Bianca didn’t let so much as a hint of comprehension slip. She filed away the phrases for later, though. Ayla’s teachings had been remarkably short on profanity. Fortunately, the meaning was clear enough in context.

  After three hours, they finally had a contract they could all agree upon, and they signed with great flourishes and then scanned the contracts and uploaded them.

  Richeline’s collar was undone and her hairline was sweaty. She gave Bianca a stiff bow. “That was as satisfying a duel as I have ever fought, Miss Xing. And I’d say we both drew a little blood.”

  Bianca almost said, “A battle without blood is like a day in the sunshine,” but that was a Letnev idiom, so instead she said, “I think you got the best of me, but you’ve been doing this a lot longer.”

  “Your performance was more than creditable,” she said. “Doctor Archambelle will be in touch about your next round of tests, and yes, she will discuss the results with you, as the contract requires.” Another bow and she left, Voyou following at her heels.

  Bianca flung herself down on the bed and smiled. She’d finally taken control of her destiny, and it felt good.

  •••

  “She believed you?” Severyne said.

  Richeline nodded. “She thinks the contract is legitimate, yes.”

  “As a resident of a Barony colony world, she is entitled to protection under our laws. It would be a valid contract… if I sealed and witnessed it, of course.” Severyne tore the sheaf of papers in two and tossed them into the matter recycler.

  “It was clever of you to make sure that detail was omitted from her lessons on Barony contract law, captain,” Richeline said.

  “I don’t need you to tell me how clever I am, Richeline.”

  “She’s even more clever than you realize,” Voyou said. “The captain had me alter the same pertinent information in the ship’s legal database, even though Bianca doesn’t have access to those files, just in case. We’ve made a few other redactions elsewhere in the system, and planted some false information here and there, too, including in the personnel files.”

  “Why would you bother to do all that?” Richeline said.

  Severyne didn’t have to explain herself, but sometimes it was useful to let your subordinates know you’d already dealt with problems they hadn’t even considered yet. “The girl spends too much time in her room, using her tutoring program. Remedial schoolwork isn’t that interesting. I suspect she’s been using her terminal for other things, and poking her nose into places it doesn’t belong.”

  “You think she’s hacking our systems?” Richeline said. “Without leaving a trace? How? She has no training. The computers on her planet are probably made of dung and corn cobs.”

  “Nevertheless. Caution costs nothing. The girl has shown surprising capabilities, time and again. I’d rather not be surprised further. Speaking of… what was your assessment of her language skills, Richeline?”

  The woman made a sour face. “We negotiated as if the contract were real, as instructed, even when speaking in our own language, but she showed no interest or attentiveness when we spoke Letnev. I insulted her, also as instructed, and she showed no reaction. I’m sure she has a few words of Letnev, but no one can become fluent in the great tongue so quickly, no matter what her system says. She’s probably using a dictionary program to cheat on the tests she takes, or else the system is just poorly calibrated.”

  “Those are possibilities. She did negotiate well, though, for a human.” Severyne had briefly regretted not taking part in the ruse – it would have been enjoyable to spar with the girl. Severyne was withholding direct contact with Bianca, though, in case she really needed to step in to fix things at some point. It was better if the captain remained a figure of shadow and menace in the girl’s mind. That left more possibilities open.

  “Oh, she did all right,” Richeline said. “I’m sure her bargaining skills come from all those years trying to get a better price for turnips. You know what people in gravity wells are like.”

  “I suppose. Be discreet around her anyway, in case she understands more than you think. As I said–”

  “Caution costs nothing.” Richeline didn’t roll her eyes, but Severyne could tell she wanted to.

  “Remember that. Dismissed.”

  Once she was alone again, Severyne called up what scant information the Letnev database had about the world of Ixth. She was beginning to think they might actually see the place, and wanted to be prepared if they did. Archambelle seemed to think there would be miraculous technology and priceless artifacts lying around unattended, just waiting to be picked up by anyone who happened by, but in Severyne’s experience nothing worthwhile happened that easily. Everything worth getting came at a cost; the key was to make sure someone else paid it. “I nominate Bianca Xing,” she muttered.

  Chapter 17

  Bianca spent the journey to the space station mostly alone in her room, studying with Ayla, trying to find out more about the galaxy in general, and hitting a lot of “data redacted” and “that information is outside the scope of my programming” responses. The history of the Barony was officially an unbroken string of victories, and that seemed unlikely for a culture that was at least thousands of years old. Even her hacking skills didn’t help – there were odd gaps wherever she looked. The Baron didn’t want his own people learning the truth about their heritage either, it seemed.

  She did eventually finesse the systems enough to break into the encrypted personnel and medical files, though there wasn’t much of interest there – not the juicy secrets Bianca had hoped for. Archambelle’s parents were doctors from the Letnev homeworld, and her life was a boring series of schools and residencies and fellowships. Voyou’s first name was Orist, he’d been born on a remote outpost moon, and he was allergic to some medication Bianca had never heard. Riveting stuff.

  The captain’s name was Rania Jennis Dampierre. Her file was heavily redacted, full of sections blacked out and marked “classified” and “state secret,” which suggested she was potentially interesting, but Bianca couldn’t find out exactly how. At least now Bianca knew what the mystery woman looked like, since there was a photo in the file: the captain was at least as old as Torvald, white-haired, stone-faced, and she had a cybernetic left eye with a red pupil. Bianca didn’t think she’d seen that face around, but maybe the captain wore one of those full-face masks when she secretly mingled with the crew.

  There were occasional other distractions. Voyou dropped by more often than he used to, and played one of the Barony’s favorite games with her – spiralstone, a strategic and tactical combat simulator traditionally played with stones on a circular board marked out with spirals, but played more often these days via holographic interface. When they first started playing Voyou warned her not to get discouraged if she lost a lot, because the game took a lifetime to master, and he was ranked in the top five thousand players in the Barony.

  He was so easy to beat that Bianca soon started losing intentionally, in different ways, without him realizing she was failing on purpose, because that was more challenging than playing in a more straightforward way. She’d played some similar games back home with old Torvald, and had only beaten him about half the time, so she knew she wasn’t some sort of unrivaled gaming savant. Maybe he was ranked in some kind of amateur league, or just bending the truth to impress her. Did he like her? He’d never done anything creepy or even flirtatious, so maybe not.

  Occasionally Voyou accompanied her to the mess hall, a welcome change from eating alone in her room. She was still the subject of glances from the rest of the crew, but not as many as before. They’d grown more accustomed to the aristocrat – or alien – in their midst.

  One day, an ensign bumped up against their table by accident and knocked Voyou’s teacup off the edge. At the moment of impact Bianca’s perception of time… changed. As the cup tumbled toward the floor, spilling its mushroom tea, everything seemed to slow down, the cup drifting down as slowly as a feather. Bianca reached out and effortlessly plucked the cup from the air, and even scooped up the tea in midair before it could splatter on the floor. Voyou stared at her, and some of the other officers actually applauded. “Fast reflexes, my lady.”

  Bianca shrugged, trying for nonchalance. Later, in her room she experimented, trying to trigger that bizarre perceptual shift by knocking small objects off her desk. She couldn’t make the time dilation happen again, and wondered if it was a protective reflex, an unconscious and reactive ability, like flinching away from a blow. If it happened again, she’d try to analyze the experience more closely, because if she could control her perception of time, it would be all sorts of useful.

  Her yearning worsened as their journey continued to take her away from those three stars, but Voyou assured her the scientist they were on their way to visit would give them the insight they needed to complete their journey. When Voyou arrived at her door that day, she booted up the game, but he shook his head. “Not this time. We’re approaching Brother Errin’s station. We should be there in an hour or so, if you’d like to get dressed. Are you excited to visit your first space station?”

  Bianca shrugged. “I assume it’s going to be a lot like being on a spaceship, only without the engines making the deck vibrate.”

  He chuckled. “This is a military vessel, and short on amenities. I think you’ll find the Tree of Grace rather more pleasant.”

  “The station is called the Tree of Grace? Why?”

  “Get dressed and you can see for yourself.”

  Bianca put on her favorite red smartcloth dress and shoes and went out to the corridor, following Voyou down in a lift to an observation deck she’d never visited before. The room was circular, with windows on all sides. Even the floor was translucent, and she felt like she was floating in the void.

  Something else floated in the void, beyond the windows, and it did look like a tree – a silver one, uprooted and suspended in the air. The station had a central trunk with symmetrical arrays of modules at the top and bottom, like branches above and roots below.

  “Brother Errin is one of the galaxy’s leading experts on biological matters,” Voyou explained. “He became wealthy by treating genetic disorders in prominent members of various species. They say he helped a major Naalu leader overcome her infertility problems, and she gifted him with this crystal space station, retrofitted inside to suit human habitation.”

  Bianca glanced away from the vista to look at Voyou. “Brother Errin is human?”

  “He’s cloned from human biological material, anyway. The Yin Brotherhood consider themselves distinct as a species, though, and I imagine their biology has diverged a lot from that of baseline humans by now.”

  Bianca pressed her hand to the glass and gazed out at the station. “It really is beautiful.”

  “The Tree of Grace is hopelessly impractical and needlessly ornamental by Letnev standards, but I’ve spent enough time in foreign service to know that our aesthetics aren’t universal. I do think it looks like it would shatter if you tapped it with a small hammer, but the Naalu build whole cities out of crystal, so I’m sure it’s stronger than it looks. We should head for the shuttle.”

  •••

  Voyou, Richeline, and Archambelle accompanied Bianca, along with three guards in their faceless helmets. The shuttle was smaller than the one that had taken her from Darit up to the Grim Countenance, and Voyou explained that this one was meant strictly for ship-to-ship (or -station) transfers, and wasn’t meant to land in atmosphere. One of the guards sat in the front, but apparently there was no real piloting to be done – the shuttle computer talked to the station computer, and the guidance and docking happened automatically.

  They let Bianca sit in the co-pilot seat, so she had a good view as the crystal branches grew larger. Their shuttle approached one of the uppermost modules, shimmering like it was made of diamonds, and docked. There were various clanks, hisses, thumps, and whirrs, but soon enough all the connections were secure and pressures equalized, and the shuttle door opened. Two of the guards went ahead, as if they expected an ambush, and then Richeline strode out. Archambelle stuck close to Bianca’s side, and Voyou brought up the rear.

  The inside of the station wasn’t all diamond sparkle, but it was pleasant: plush carpets on the floors, walls a soothing shade of greyish blue, corridors dotted with little niches that held flowering plants or climbing vines. The lighting was indirect but full-spectrum, a welcome relief after the dim redness of the Letnev ship. Voyou squinted, and Archambelle slipped on a pair of dark glasses.

  A towering figure stepped into the corridor from a side room. She had a catlike face and long sand-colored hair in complex braids, and wore a robe intricately embellished with ornamental knotwork. “Greetings,” she purred. “I am Kyrria, Brother Errin’s representative.”

  “Why does he need a representative?” Richeline said. “We came to see the scientist, not the secretary.”