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never seen a ship like this,” she said.
    “It’s a prototype. I call it the Mikemobile. Trying to promote the idea that it’s mine. The designers call it an orbit runner. One of Tesla’s real successes.” Mike pulled up a menu on the console and pointed at the word   hydroponics.   “Push that.”
    Char pushed   hydroponics.   They rotated and backed away from the station.
    “It runs on a charge off the solar net, the same power source for the hydroponics annex. This thing will go till it falls apart.” The com voice said   course acquired,   and the Mikemobile eased backward, picking up speed.
    “You’re piloting your first ship.” Mike ran his hands through his hair and blew out a deep breath. “Ah, Char. Being governor of the Imperial Space Station wasn’t as glamorous as it sounds. I’m glad you came.”
    Governor, cripes. That explained the   Your Excellency   stuff. And the bodyguards. No wonder the best table in the Blue Marble had been conveniently available. But what did he mean,   wasn’t ? Was he going to lose his position?
    “Shíb dài!” Mike’s curse stopped her from asking the question. A mid-sized shuttle swerved just past them into the space they’d cleared. “That ship would lose its data link if I wasn’t preoccupied.”
    The pilot could have kept twice the distance from the orbit runner, and Mike would still have taken offense. Even swearing, Mike wanted everything proper. No   shib, shibad, shibadeh   for him. You could count on him that way, but you could also count on him never bending, always insisting on the rules. Char could see why Sky dragged her feet when he proposed.
    The offensive shuttle moved toward the docking bay they’d exited. The bay door was almost closed, but a portal beside it slid open and a ball shot out toward the incoming ship. The ball opened and expanded into a net that spread over the shuttle’s hull. It covered the observation windows and its sunflower logo.
    The shuttle lit up with electrical arcs emanating from the net. Like vicious living lightning, the arcs darted about the ship’s exterior. The pilot’s windows blew out, and the vacuum of space sucked a stream of objects out of the ship. Including people.
    A middle-aged woman slammed against the bubble canopy in front of Char. Her eyes were open. She stared through a cascade of curls with the same surprised expression Tyler had had. Char and Mike both shrieked. The woman was still alive—no. She shifted. The back of her head was missing. The body slid over the canopy and floated away.
    “What the hell was that?” Char said through sobs and chattering teeth. Shibadeh, the world   was   coming to an end.
    “The guys in logistics call it an electric blanket.” Mike’s voice was flat, emotionless. He rubbed the back of her neck, but it only made her feel worse.
    “No, I meant why?” Her eyes stung. “There were people on that ship.”
    “They might have been DOGs,” Mike said. “That shuttle was ordered not to dock. Approaching the station was a hostile act.”
    The supposedly hostile shuttle went dark, its sunflower logo illuminated by natural light. It drifted, dead in space.

Slipscream
     
    The hydroponics annex was a rectangular monolith the size of a football field in synchronized orbit about ten minutes out from the Imperial station. The Mikemobile linked to the annex, acquired docking data, and glided into a bay large enough for a supertransport.
    Coming out of the airlock into the control room, Char was bombarded by the smell of green growing things. Still shaken, she closed her eyes and filled her lungs with the sweet air, grateful for the small measure of comfort it gave. Now the faces of two dead people haunted her, Tyler and the woman from the sunflower shuttle.
    Two out of ten million.
    “Will you do that to Jake and Rani when they come back from Vacation Station?” She followed Mike to the docking bay’s control panel. “Wrap the   Space Junque   in an