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finished. Good,” Xexo said as he went past them on the stairs, grunting at the weight he was carrying.
    â€œAnything serious?” Damia asked, since Afra’s reproof had recalled her sense of duty.
    â€œNo, just to be sure,” Xexo said, and Keylarion winked as she followed him.
    Damia grinned back at her, knowing how particular the engineer was about his beloved generators.
    Outside in the brisk late-winter air of Iota Aurigae, Damia folded her coat about her and huddled against Afra’s long frame, to shield herself from the worst of the wind.
    Their ’Dinis came rushing out of the house, chattering as if their friends had been gone for weeks instead of a few hours. Tri caught Afra’s free hand while Fok took Damia’s and escorted them the rest of the way.

two
    Rojer joined the Columbia in the middle of ship night, just before the dogwatch came on.
    Sorry, Flavia. Should have checked to be sure it was convenient, he said. We’d just finished hauling the drones and Grandfather was ready to ship me out, so it seemed silly to waste the ride.
    â€œI’m here, I’m here,” said Flavia, appearing in the boat bay and nearly colliding with the duty officer, Lieutenant Sad-ler Ismail, who was on his way to the personnel carrier. “Zara went back to bed.”
    â€œOops, sorry about that, Prime.” He took Flavia’s arm to steady her precipitous arrival. “Good to see you, sir,” Ismail said, belatedly saluting as he remembered that Prime Talents had the honorary rank of captain while on Fleet maneuvers. “Need some help there, Gil, Kat?” he added as the ’Dinis emerged.
    I’d’ve had Asia greet you, but she stayed below on some minor emergency. If I’d known ...
    That’s all right. So we’re orbiting Talavera.
    Sure. Flavia looked surprised. Didn’t you know?
    No, I didn’t know. Grandfather just whisked me away from the Washington.
    Just then various items dropped into the personnel carrier just vacated: one soft-soled boot, a cascade of disks and two worn, obviously dirty shipsuits.
    â€œI left the suits behind for a reason,” Rojer said, making a face in the general direction of his previous ship. He pointed to a shoulder patch that displayed a clearly printed “A.S.S. Washington.”
    Flavia grabbed the offending suits and they disappeared: a disposal hatch hissed receipt. She gave him an affectionate hug, touching his mind with warm greetings.
    â€œYou needn’t have come down yourself, Flavia.” He returned her embrace. “But I’m glad you did.” Despite the hour, she felt as vibrant and self-assured as ever. He could wish, feeling her very womanly body against his, that she wasn’t already attached to Jesper Ornigo, T-6 from Betelgeuse.
    I know. It’s sad we can’t replicate ourselves and share the wealth, she said, half teasing. “C’mon, I’ll take you to your quarters. Thanks, Sadler. He’s my problem now.”
    â€œYes ma’am.” Ismail signaled for one of the yeomen on duty to take Rojer’s luggage.
    â€œNo need to disturb your watch,” Flavia said airily, and with a gesture the duffels disappeared, including the ship shoe and the disks.
    â€œWe’ll go the easy way,” she said. Turning to say good night to officer and watch, she took his hand and ’ported him to the passageway outside his assigned quarters.
    â€œYou go on back to bed now, Flavia. I’ll settle myself in.” He gave her a mental push.
    â€œI’m just two doors down,” she said, and walked away. “G’night!”
    â€œNight,” he responded with an airy kiss for her cheek. He put his hand on the doorplate and it slid open, showing him a room that contained both bed alcove and a lounge. Not as luxurious as the specially designed quarters for the Talents on the Washington, but larger than his original accommodations on the