Phelan half-smiled. So much of what the Clans have on this JumpShip is lostech in the Successor States. I've heard of burning programs into computer chips, but that's only because of my father's friend, Clovis Holstein. Clovis showed me how to do it, but the machine he used was a monster with only a quarter of the features of the one down in the maintenance bays here. With equipment like that, it's no wonder their 'Mechs are so superior to ours.

"An eprom is a computer chip. It holds the program—the information and instructions—that makes machinery work. What I did was to create a program that will cycle through all possible lock combinations, starting with two numbers and working up until the lock opens. The little lights on the box show you how many numbers are being checked in the current series."

Griff shook his head. "You amaze me, kid. In my day, all I had to know about chips was that if one went bad in my 'Mech, I had to steal a whole board from another machine to make it right. But you say that thing will get us into the bondswomen's area?"

Phelan nodded solemnly. "I have to do some soldering next time I'm in the shop and get some power cells for it. But after that, if the door has a lock, this will open it."

Griff clapped his hands once, sharply. "Yeah! Won't everyone be happy to hear that? I haven't seen my little Marianna in far too long ... What's wrong?"

The young Mech Warrior forced the sour look from his face. "I don't mind you knowing about this lockpick. You're responsible, and I appreciate your keeping the others off me when Ulric transferred me into this dorm." Phelan looked around at the large room filled with bunks whose blankets were a shade deeper than the prison gray of the wall and the cold metal deck. Tossing me in with this pack of pirates could have been a mistake, but I don't think Ulric makes many of those. I suspect he wanted to see if I could survive in this viper pit.

Phelan sighed. "I just don't want Kenny Ryan getting his hands on it. His turbolift doesn't quite make it to the bridge, if you know what I mean. He'd want to use my lockpick to get into the armory or the 'Mech bays or the bridge, which would cause real trouble."

Griff's green eyes widened. "It could get us into those places?"

The Kell Hound nodded. "As I said, if it has a sonic lock, this will get you in. Still, those places have guards and are very secure. I wouldn't mind if Kenny got his head toasted by a laser bolt or two, but I'd hate to think of the other casualties ... You and I both know he wouldn't have the guts to go alone. The only reason Kenny became leader was because he saw which way you all wanted to go and jumped out in front."

The door suddenly opened, cutting off any comment from Griff. Ranna's smile died a little at seeing the pirate, but not completely. "Phelan," she said, "the Khan requests your presence."

Phelan stood up quickly and straightened his jumpsuit. He didn't realize how hard his heart was pounding until he noticed the bemused expression on Griff's face. That made Phelan blush, and the pirate smiled even more broadly. She's smart and pretty and a MechWarrior, and, dammit, I like her. Why should I be embarrassed? I'm not betraying them, am I?

Griff winked at Ranna. "Now don't keep him out until all hours. The boy needs his rest if he's going to do his work."

Ranna tried to look stern, but her eyes revealed amusement. "Work. Now that is a novel concept for you. I thought the lot of you were supposed to be painting Storage Bay Seven. I can check on mat."

Griff held up his hands. "I was just heading down there."

He glanced at Phelan. "Don't embarrass us, kid. Remember not to slurp your tea."

The mercenary smiled cruelly. "Don't worry, this ain't the Periphery. They actually give us cups."

Griff laughed and slipped past Ranna at the door. The Clans-woman kept the disapproving look on her face until he had passed, then her facade also dissolved into laughter. Phelan threaded his way between bunks and followed her out into the corridor.

"Do you know what the Khan wants, Ranna, or do I just have to wait and see?"

She shook her head, then tucked her hands into the pockets of her navy jumpsuit. She fished around for a moment, her expression becoming annoyed. Then she patted her chest pockets, still not finding what she sought. "How could I forget my remote?" she asked irritably, more to herself than Phelan. She turned to him as they reached the turbolift. "We'll have to take a short detour. I left something in my quarters."

She punched the button summoning the lift. Once inside, she directed the box up four levels, punched in the entry code, then ushered Phelan along a corridor marked by a shield and a blue-white ball icon. When they came to a door marked by a wolf's-head and a single, red dagger-star beneath it, she keyed a series of five numbers into the lock panel. Tones sounded out, but came too quickly for Phelan to identify them. The door slid to the left, then shut silently after they entered.

Phelan looked around. The room is smaller than the Khan's suite, to be sure, yet doesn't feel cramped.The foyer, with a mirrored closet to the left and hatchway into a lavatory to the right, opened onto a small living room. A drafting table took up the far left corner, and surrounding it, Phelan saw pens, pencils, brushes, paints, and other artist's tools. Paintings hung on each wall, and though they used different colors and were of vastly different subjects, Phelan noted elements of style that bound them all together.

Ranna passed through a hatchway in the living room's right wall and disappeared into what Phelan assumed was her bedchamber. He crossed to the far wall and stared closely at a landscape in tones of purple and red. The use of blurred lines gave the impression that the subject of the painting was a hellishly hot place. Above the highest mountains, the cold blackness of space and the brilliant, diamondlike stars looked like a sanctuary, but somehow Phelan read a reluctance to leave the world for the boundless void between the stars.

She called to him from the doorway. "Do you like it?"

"I'm not sure that I'm supposed to like it. It reminds me of the first time I shipped out from Arc-Royal with the Hounds and realized what it meant to be leaving the world where I was born. I was only five at the time. I felt enthusiastic because it was a great adventure, but I also didn't want to leave my grandparents and cousins behind." Phelan turned to face her. "I wanted to go, but I also dreaded it, quiaff?"

Ranna nodded. "Aff, I think I have some understanding. That is a landscape from the world where I grew up. I felt great sadness in leaving. But you mentioned cousins ..."

Phelan smiled sheepishly. "Well, that's what I called them. They weren't first cousins, of course, because I didn't have any—I mean, that was years before we found out about Chris. They were just the folks I grew up with on ArcRoyal."

She smiled as what he was saying finally seemed to dawn on her. "Ah, your sibko. I can understand why you were reluctant to leave them. Fortunately for me, my sibko has traveled with me, or I with it, as it were."

The Kell Hound looked over at Ranna and shook his head. "Somehow I wouldn't have figured you for an artist." Ranna started to object, but he held up his hand to forestall her complaint. "What I mean is that the atmosphere around here seems more suited to military than to artistic pursuits. Of course, you're different than the others—I can't imagine Evantha or Vlad painting or writing poetry, if you see my point."