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Dupaynil shrugged and moved onto the bridge. He thought it would be hours before the weapons tech could possibly get out. At the moment, gaining Panis’s confidence took precedence. They settled in uneasy silence, Panis in the command seat and Dupaynil in the one in which he’d first seen the master mate.

He said nothing while Panis made a formal entry in die ship’s computer, stating the date and time that he assumed command, and the code under which he would file a complete report. The computer’s response to change of command, Dupaynil noticed, was to recheck Panis’s retinal scans, palmprint, and voiceprint against its memory of him. Dupaynil would have had a hard time taking over if something had happened to Panis. He asked about that.

“Not as ship commander, no sir. You might have convinced it that you were a disaster survivor. You were logged in as a legitimate passenger. But you wouldn’t have been given access to secure files or allowed to make any course changes. It would’ve given you lifesupport access: water, food, kept the main compartments aired up. That’s all. And the ship would have launched an automatic distress signal when it dropped out of FTL.”

“I see. There are files in the computer, Captain, which will provide evidence needed to confirm Ollery’s treachery.”

Dupaynil noticed that Panis reacted to the use of his new title with a minute straightening; a good sign. He did not mention that he had penetrated some of the computer’s secure files already. Maintenance wasn’t what he would call secure. Panis glanced over.

“I suppose you’d like me to access them. Although I’d think that would be a matter for Fleet Security.” Dupaynil said nothing and waited. Panis suddenly grimaced. “Of course. You are Fleet Security, at least part of it. Or so you say.” Wariness became him. He seemed to mature almost visibly as Dupaynil watched.

“Yes, I am. On the other hand, since I am the officer involved, the one who killed Ollery, you have a natural

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reluctance to let me meddle in the files, just in case. Right?”

“Right.” Panis shook his head. “And I thought I was lucky to be yanked off a battle platform where I was one of a hundred Jigs, to be executive officer on an escort! Maybe something will happen, I said.”

“Something did.” Dupaynil grinned at him, the easy smile that had won over more than one who had had suspicions of him. “And you survived, acquitted yourself well. I assure you, if you can bring in the evidence that shows just where the agents of piracy are in Fleet, you’ll have made your mark.”

“Piracy!” Panis started to say more, then held up his hand. “No, not this moment. Let me log the first of it, and we’ll get into that later.”

This was a ship’s captain speaking, however inexperienced. Dupaynil nodded and waited. The Jig’s verbal report was surprisingly orderly and concise for someone who had narrowly escaped death and still had ripening bruises on his face. Dupaynil’s opinion of him went up another two notches, and then a third when Panis waved him over to the command input station.

“I’d like your report, too, sir. Lieutenant Commander Dupaynil, taken aboard Clow on resupply station 64, Fleet Standard dating . . . Computer?” The computer checked the date and time, and flashed it on Pani’s screen. “Right! 23.05.34.0247. Transfer from the cruiser Zaid-Dayan, Commander Sassinak commanding, with orders from Inspector-General Parchandri to proceed to Seti space on a secret mission. Is that right, sir?”

“Right,” said Dupaynil. Was this the time to mention that he thought those orders were iaked? Probably not. At least, not without thinking about it a bit more. He didn’t think Sassinak had intended to tangle him with planet pirates or their allies. If he said his orders were faked, that would drag her into it.

“Then if you’ll give your report, Commander,” and Panis handed him the microphone.

Carefully, trying to think ahead to the implications of his report, Dupaynil told how his suspicions had been