Free The Sea Without a Shore by David Drake

with ten,” Mon said. “Well, nine most of the time, if I’m honest. You can sling hammocks for twenty easily enough.”
    They were approaching from the bow, so the nose turret with its single plasma cannon was visible. Daniel nodded toward the gun and said in a neutral tone, “What does she mount?”
    “A fifty-millimeter high-intensity piece,” Mon said. “From an Alliance pirate chaser originally, I’d guess, but I took her off a freighter out of Trobriand that I was scrapping.”
    He pursed his lips and looked at Daniel. “Look, sir—I know that’s a popgun, but this is a civilian ship, and that’s all her frames’ll take in real use. You won’t find a freighter under five thousand tons which can handle as many as a dozen rounds from a four-inch gun without starting all her seams.”
    Daniel laughed. “Much as I’d like you to be wrong, Mon,” he said, “I know that you’re not. And I’m trying to look inconspicuous on this business, so fitting destroyer armament would be a bad idea even if we could.”
    Now that they were standing on the dock alongside, the Kiesche had a sharp, eager appearance. Sure, her hull was streaked with rust, but her rigging was taut and her antennas were straight, with no signs of kinks which would keep the sections from nesting properly within one another.
    “Say, there’s one more thing,” said Mon. “You remember the Milton —why sure you do! You captained her in her last fight, so sure you do! Well, she was scrapped right here when she got back to Cinnabar. I put her command console in the Kiesche when I was refitting her. A heavy cruiser’s console is really too big for a twelve hundred-ton freighter, but the price was right.”
    Daniel had started down the catwalk to the ship’s own boarding ramp. He stopped, put his foot back on the quay, and turned. “You don’t bloody say!” he said. “You don’t bloody say!”
    Mon, startled by Daniel’s vehemence, said, “Well, the console was first-rate even if I hear that the ship was an abortion, eight-inch cannon on a cruiser hull.”
    “You didn’t hear me say the Millie was an abortion!” Daniel said. “Why, she slugged it out with a battleship, and it was the Millie who sailed home!”
    He caught himself. Sailed home, yes; but under a jury rig and missing her hull aft of Frame 260. She was scrapped when she got home because that was the only option which made economic sense.
    “Never mind, Mon,” Daniel said. “I’ll take the Kiesche .”
    He cleared his throat in embarrassment. “Pardon if I sounded a bit heated. I’m, well … As you say, the Millie was my command. And—”
    He beamed at the freighter.
    “—a cruiser console may cramp the bridge somewhat, but it has full controls and display on the aft side. And that will be the perfect location for my communications officer!”

CHAPTER 5
    Xenos on Cinnabar
    Adele had paused in her transcriptions to sip from her glass of beer. Beer from the Mundy estate—bitters, actually, brewed with germander rather than hops—had been the table beverage at the townhouse while Adele was growing up.
    She had never considered the choice as child: what was, was, as with most children in most situations. As an adult, she supposed the beer was to show voters that Lucius Mundy was a Man of the People, despite his rank in society.
    The doorman ushered a visitor into the hallway on the ground floor. Adele heard only the murmur of voices through the open door of the library where she was working. She took another sip of beer.
    Her mouth was very dry. Forgetting to eat wasn’t a real problem, but she shouldn’t let herself go so long without drinking, especially with a glass at her hand.
    Tovera stood at the stairhead. “It’s Miranda Dorst,” she said quietly. “She came to see you.”
    “Send her up,” said Adele. What she was doing wasn’t important.
    Her lips hinted at a frozen smile. No human activity is important. Everyone dies, everything dies; the