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anyway. You can work on this in your spare time.”
    “Can I bring some friends over to help me?” Toby asked. “Some of them are really smart.”
    “No,” Stella said; it came out harsher than she intended, and his expression changed. She tried to soften her tone. “Toby, right now this has to be a secret. You know the original technology belonged to ISC. We have to be sure it’s legal for us to do this, or—”
    “It can’t be illegal to build one for ourselves—if we don’t sell it—”
    “Yes, it could be illegal,” Stella said. “I have to find that out, and in the meantime don’t talk about it. Not to your friends, not to your teachers—”
    “But I don’t see why,” Toby said, with all the persistence of enthusiasm. “If it’s just for us, why would they care?”
    “Profit,” Stella said. “If they own the rights and we make one instead of buying theirs—”
    “But they’re
not
selling them,” Toby pointed out. “It’s not costing them anything because they’re not selling them.”
    “Just let me talk to someone who knows more about the law than either of us before you talk to anyone else,” Stella said. He frowned, but finally nodded. “And Toby—thanks for all your work. If you’ve really solved that problem, ISC may be paying
us
. In any event, you’re a real contributor to Vatta’s recovery.” A recovery that she now believed could happen, with or without the input of the Slotter Key Vattas.

    Thirteen days later, Stella looked around Vatta Transport’s new offices, redecorated in Vatta colors and fully furnished. Crown & Spears had been willing to advance the money on the expectation of her receiving Furman’s accounts within fifteen days and the arrival of
Marcus Selene
. The offices were in an unfashionable quarter of Cascadia Station, toward the tip of one branch, but the rent per square meter was only 65 percent of that near the trunk. Besides, their business was shipping, and dockside was across the way.
    “This is where you’ll be,” she said to the receptionist she’d hired for the front office. “We’re just moving in—it’s a little rough, but I assure you the security measures are first-rate.”
    “It looks lovely,” the girl—young woman—said. Gillian Astin, Stella reminded herself. Native of Cascadia, just out of business school, up on the station for the first time. She looked too young, but her voice was brisk and she seemed to have confidence. “I look forward to serving you…I’m sorry, but I don’t know what terms of address are correct for someone from Slotter Key.”
    “I’m living here now,” Stella said. “Whatever’s appropriate here—
Sera,
isn’t it?”
    “Yes, Sera Vatta.” Gillian grinned. “This is so exciting. Mum and Dad never thought I’d get a job offplanet; they kidded me when I signed with the agency.”
    “Well, here’s your desk. Let me know if there’s anything else you need,” Stella said. “I’ll be in back—I’ve got a ship on approach and I need to talk with the captain.”
    “Thank you, Sera,” Gillian said. The comunit on her desk buzzed. Stella paused in the door to see how she handled it. Gillian slipped the earbug in and said, “Good morning, Vatta Transport, Ltd. How may I help you?” She didn’t sound like a child then. Stella slipped through into her own office.
    Her father’s office had been huge in comparison, furnished with antiques and artwork. Hers barely had room for a simple desk, a chair for a visitor, a credenza holding her comunit, cube reader, and—hidden inside—some supplies. The other door led to a narrow corridor, off which were the supply room and the toilets. Across that, a larger room where Toby could work. It had been the workshop of the small electronics repair firm and still had workbenches and shelving.
    “Sera Vatta?” Gillian was at the door. “General Sales’ local supervisor, Ser Sagata, would like to speak with you regarding the cargo coming in