Captain Tomas Guerra’s quarters were up at the top of the stack, within a few steps of the bridge. The rooms were comfortable without being overly sumptuous. Guerra did not believe in showy displays of privilege: He kept the décor of his quarters quite simple, almost minimalist. Bulkheads covered in brushed aluminum. A few silk screen paintings of misty mountains and terraced rice paddies on the display screens. Spare, graceful Scandinavian furniture. His one obvious display of luxury was his set of solid gold cups in which he served sherry to special guests.

Katherine Westfall was indeed a very special guest. Reputedly the wealthiest woman in the solar system, she was a member of the powerful governing council of the International Astronautical Authority, the agency that controlled all spaceflight and much of the scientific research done off-Earth. Rumor had it that she was being considered for the chairmanship of the council.

“It’s very good of you to invite me to dinner,” said Katherine Westfall, in a hushed, little-girl voice.

Captain Guerra dipped his gray-bearded chin once. “It is very good of you to take the time to join me.”

Katherine Westfall was as slender and petite as a ballerina, and like a dancer she calculated virtually every move she made far in advance—as well as every word she spoke. She should have been at ease in the comfortably upholstered recliner in the captain’s sitting room, but as she smiled demurely at the man he got the impression from her steel gray eyes that she was wary, on guard.

“I hope you weren’t inconvenienced by the lower gravity while we were docked with Chrysalis,” the captain said politely. “The rock rats keep their habitat at lunar g.”

Katherine Westfall thought a moment, then replied, “It was rather exhilarating, actually.”