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the door Toby had tried to slam. There was something funny—or would be someday—about her, of all people, having this conversation with Toby. Did all young people use the exact same words to their parents and guardians when they were frantic about their first love? Nothing you can say will stop me …she remembered throwing that in her mother’s face, then her father’s…the father who was dead now, only he wasn’t her real father, the mother who hadn’t told her the truth. She pinched the bridge of her nose, hard, and called Toby’s escort on her skullphone.
    “Don’t let him be alone with the Louarri girl,” she said. “No matter what. Tackle him, if you have to.”
    “He’s upset,” one of them said.
    “He’s angry and hurt and scared and convinced she’s the love of his life and I’m to blame for trying to separate them,” Stella said. “You were young once, I assume.”
    “Yes,” the man answered. “I was. We’ll take care of him.”
    Toby had dropped the cube and printout from Ky; Stella picked them up. Pirate jargon? She found the words Toby had mentioned. Was that enough to go on? She wrote those out, in standard script, not trusting the computer at this point, security or no. Ky had recorded transmissions in a combat situation…surely from even a few words, someone could devise a translation…“ship” or “ships,” “far” or “farther,” “now,” “profit,” “out of here.” No, “out of here now.”
    Stella looked at the rest of the page. What was that rude word Toby had mentioned? Prot ? She looked through the rest of the printout. Prot appeared often…it was probably a cussword. Probably, from Toby’s reaction, anatomical. That wasn’t going to be very helpful.
    When she got back to the apartment, Toby’s security was outside. “He’s studying, he says. He hasn’t left the apartment; he hasn’t made any calls.”
    “Thank you,” Stella said. She dreaded going in, starting the confrontation again, yet more than her comfort or Toby’s rested on his ability to translate the pirate jargon. Had her parents ever dreaded talking to her? She’d never considered that possibility then. For the first time, it sank in that if she’d had that child, she would be a mother in fact, and the mother of a youngster not that much younger than Toby. At least she’d have more experience…
    The apartment was silent; Toby’s door was closed.
    Stella moved into the kitchen and dialed a prepackaged meal. She had no doubt he would hear her moving around. As it heated, she tapped on his door. “Supper’s almost ready.”
    “I’m not hungry.”
    She knew better than that; Toby was always hungry. “Toby, I expect you to come to supper whether you eat it or not.”
    A long moment, then he yanked the door open. His eyes were red, his hair disheveled. He looked down. “I won’t eat.”
    “That’s fine. I know you’re working on a paper, Toby, but this translation thing is urgent. Ky needs it. Everyone needs it. Right now, no one can tell what the pirates are planning, even if they overhear them.”
    “She’s not a pirate.” Only one possible she.
    “I didn’t say she was…but we need to know what they’re saying here, if you can figure it out.”
    “Ky’s sure this was from pirates?”
    “Yes.”
    “All right.” He took the paper and cube. “You still want me at supper?”
    “Yes.”
    As Stella expected, Toby started eating when she served his plate, his eyes darting now and then to the paper beside him. “Do we have any way to get this into standard script? I don’t know all these symbols.”
    “Yes,” Stella said. “I’ve got that in my implant, and it’s on most computers, in the word processing section. You could upload it into yours, now that you’ve got the adult model. But don’t use an outside source.” She had given in to his request for the most advanced implant on the grounds that he really did need it to do the research he was doing, and she