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need without worrying about unexpected company.”
    He switched off, and turned to find Reese looking at him. His expression—“You have something to say, Reese?”
    â€œWe’re heading home now, I take it?”
    â€œThere’s not much point in doing anything else,” Ferrol told him. “Eventually, the pro-Tampies will ease up on this yishyar patrol; until then, there’s not much we can do. Unless you want to start scouring systems at random?”
    â€œNot really.” Reese glanced at the blackness on the main display. “That was a hell of a chance you just took. I may not know all that much about starships, but I do know that triggering what amounted to a major lightning bolt between the space horse and the Scapa Flow could have taken out both the hull’s micro seams and the Mitsuushi ring in the bargain.”
    Ferrol gazed at him. “You’re absolutely right, Mr. Reese. You don’t know much about starships.”
    Reese’s eyes hardened. “You could have shunted the capacitor charge directly to the outer hull,” he said, his voice edging into accusation. “You didn’t need to vaporize the netting and tether line.”
    â€œI wanted the extra electron cloud between us and the Dryden in case they tried bringing up the ion beam again,” Ferrol said, keeping his voice level. “Besides, shunting directly to the hull would have carried its own set of risks.”
    â€œAnd besides,” Reese said softly, “you hoped the extra jolt might kill the calf?”
    The bridge had gone silent. The charge, Ferrol knew, might indeed have killed the calf. The thought twisted his stomach…but he was damned if he was going to show that kind of sentimentality in front of Reese. “ We captured that space horse,” he told the other, biting out each word as if he really meant it. “If we don’t get it…neither do the Tampies.”
    Reese took a careful breath. “I see,” he said stiffly.
    â€œI doubt that,” Ferrol told him. “But frankly, I don’t much care whether you do or don’t…and you’re excused from the bridge for the remainder of the voyage.”
    His face rigid, Reese unstrapped and made his way back to the bridge door. “The Senator will hear about this,” he warned.
    â€œI don’t doubt it,” Ferrol said. “At this point, I don’t much care about that , either.”
    The door closed behind him, and Ferrol turned back to the main display with a tired sigh. It was, perhaps, the beginning of the end. Even the Scapa Flow ’s backers no longer truly understood how thin the razor-edge was that the Cordonale was balanced on. Even they were starting to be lulled by the Tampy protestations of peace and friendship.
    Or else they’d lost their nerve. Either way…
    Either way, there was going to have to be some serious discussion when the Scapa Flow reached home.
    Some very serious discussion indeed.
    For a long moment the bridge was silent, with the kind of silence Roman usually associated with sheer stunned disbelief.
    At least, that was what he himself was feeling. Disbelief…and a deep and personal chagrin.
    The poacher had beaten him.
    He took a deep breath. “Lieutenant Nussmeyer, did we get anything like a departure vector through all that?”
    â€œAll—I believe so, sir, yes,” the other said. “Though if he’s smart he won’t stay on that course for long.”
    Roman focused on Nussmeyer’s profile. There was something that looked suspiciously like awe in the other’s face. “And you expect he is that smart, I gather?”
    Nussmeyer flushed slightly. “Sorry, sir,” he said. “I just—” He waved a hand helplessly. “You can’t help but admire a man who takes a gamble that big and pulls it off.”
    â€œI can’t?”
    Nussmeyer flushed again and fell