“There’s going to be hell to pay for this, Lev. You know that, don’t you?” Selkirk asked. “I’m not talking about between you and me. I mean, I understand it’s not your idea and you don’t have any choice, but my bosses aren’t going to be happy about this. And their bosses aren’t going to be happy about it. And eventually it’s going to go all the way to the top and members of the Assembly aren’t going to be happy about it. For that matter, if Manticore’s really recalling all of its merchantships, this is going to hammer the interstellar economy. It’s not just the transstellars that’re going to be pissed off once that happens — it’s going to be everyone!” She shook her head. “I don’t know what your government hopes this is going to accomplish, but I can tell you what it’s really going to do, and that’s to squirt hydrogen right into the fire!”

“Maybe it is,” Wallenstein conceded, “but that’s a decision that’s way above my pay grade, Sharon.” He smiled again, a bit crookedly. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“You, too, Lev,” she said quietly.

“I’ll try,” he told her. “Clear.”

* * *

“I don’t care what your damned orders say,” Captain Freida Malachai said flatly. “I’ve got three and a half million tons of cargo onboard, and I’m supposed to deliver it in Klondike one T-month from today. Do you have any frigging idea what the nondelivery penalty on that’s going to be?! Not to mention the question of piracy if I just sail off with it into the sunset with it!”

“I realize this is highly…inconvenient, Captain Malachai,” Commander Jared Wu replied as reasonably as he could. “And it wasn’t my idea in the first place. Nonetheless, I’m afraid the recall’s nondiscretionary.”