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drink to him. “Not that I haven’t enjoyed the change of scenery”—even Sinclair smiled at this—“but anyone knowledgeable about Raziel could have delivered that talk.”
    â€œYes, quite.” Beck folded his arms together. “You’re absolutely correct…although your presence added a certain gravitas that might otherwise have been lacking. But that’s beside the point, really. As I said, we have something more important we’d like to discuss with you.”
    Shillinglaw cleared his throat. “Perhaps I should introduce our friend here.” He gestured to the young man seated across from them. “Commander Theodore Harker, first officer of the EASS Galileo .”
    â€œWhich ship?” Ramirez shook his head. “Sorry, but I haven’t heard of the Galileo . Is that a new Mars cycler?”
    â€œNo, sir.” Harker’s voice held a slight Welsh accent, watered down by years of refinement. “We completed our shakedown cruise to Mars just six weeks ago, but interplanetary service is not our principal mission.” He paused. “The Galileo is a starship.”
    Ramirez blinked. It took a moment for this to sink in. “A starship,” he murmured at last. “I’ll be damned…” He looked at Shillinglaw. “You have made progress while I’ve been away, haven’t you?”
    â€œDon’t feel bad. You haven’t been that far out of the loop.” Shillinglaw stepped away from the bookcase. “Most of Galileo ’s development was classified, strictly on a need-to-know basis. We didn’t go public with the project until we actually began construction four years ago…”
    â€œAnd by then, of course, your intelligence operatives had achieved their goal.” Sinclair glowered at both him and Beck. “I have to hand it to you…they were very good at unearthing the details of our diametric drive. My government didn’t even know they’d been stolen until…”
    â€œOh, Donald, please.” Beck closed his eyes, shook his head. “ESA didn’t steal the diametric drive, and you know it. Our people developed it independently. Otherwise, why would the configuration of the drive torus be so different?”
    â€œBecause you—”
    â€œLook,” Ramirez interrupted, “I’m really not interested in hearing this.” Then a new thought occurred to him. “Or maybe I am. The last starship the Union Astronautica built…um, the Spirit …”
    â€œThe Spirit of Social Collectivism Carried to the Stars ,” Sinclair said, reciting the ship’s cumbersome but politically correct full name. “The last of the five colony ships sent to 47 Ursae Majoris.”
    â€œAfter the Alabama , of course.” Sinclair’s face reddened as Ramirez said this. Good social collectivists—particularly political officers—didn’t like to be reminded that it was the old, right-wing United Republic of America that built and launched humankind’s first starship, long before the Western Hemisphere Union rose from the wreckage of the former government. He started to sputter something, but Ramirez ignored him. “But the Union Astronautica exhausted their resources building that fleet,” he went on, “and…at least so far as I know…haven’t built any since.”
    â€œSometimes, there’s a certain advantage to being the tortoise,” Shillinglaw said quietly. “Especially when it’s obvious that the hare will soon take a nap.”
    Sinclair glared at him, while Beck covered his bemused expression with his hand. “That’s one way of putting it,” Harker said, making an attempt to be diplomatic. “The fact remains that, at this moment, the EA has the only operational starship.” He smiled, and Ramirez couldn’t help but notice a certain twinkle in his eye. “Among other