Ship’s Master Xaras Yellan flopped into his command chair and turned to the helmsman. He mopped his thinning hair and tilted the cap back on his head. “What’s our status Phelps?”

“Nothing going on out there, Skipper,” Starman Frank Phelps answered. “What are you doing up during the mids, anyway?”

“Can’t sleep with this pup on watch,” Yellan said as he jerked his thumb toward the young man standing near the navigation console. “I still don’t know why we got stuck with a cadet. They are supposed to be billeted to proper warships for their training cruises.”

Cadet 1^st class Furn, the duty watch-officer ignored Yellan’s comment. “All quiet. On course for the ice rings of Ix, Captain. We will be passing close to the uninhabited planet of Terne in a few hours.”

Yellan jumped up and moved delicately to Furn’s console. The ship’s low gravity acceleration made proper stomping impossible. “This isn’t what I wrote in the night orders. Who told you to alter course Cadet? No more of this captain stuff either. You will address me as Skipper. I ain’t wearing no novas on my collar. This is a Military Starlift Command salvage tug, not a warship.”

“I, uh, the course in the night orders was inefficient, Sir.” Furn stammered. “If we gravity slingshot around Terne we can arrive at our target ahead of schedule and save fuel.”

“It also avoids Terne. Haven’t you been paying attention during the XO’s daily briefings?”

“I’ve been on mid-watches for a week Captain, I mean Skipper. The briefs are at 0800 during my sleep time.”

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t responsible for watching the recordings, Cadet.” Yellan called out. “Phelps, why would I want to avoid Terne?”

“Probably because there have been recent reports of ships going missing around there.”

“Exactly! Ensign Furn, recite the tactical capabilities and weapon complement of this ship.”

Furn snapped to attention and said. “Deliver is the first of a new class of long-range-salvage tugs built for the Imperial Confederation by Getzen Heavy Industries. Deliver has six main fusion engines and an early version of the experimental Quantum-entanglement drive. She is capable of towing any ship in the fleet, including Shin-class planetary assault carriers. Deliver’s stealth hull of fused carbonado provides extreme thermal resistance from directed energy weapons and a high ability to absorb small kinetic impacts. There is also a limited amount of active countermeasures and a close-in-weapons system for defense.”

“And what about offensive weapons?”

“Deliver carries no offensive weapons. We do have a small caliber crew-served railgun for mine clearance.”

“Furn, do you know why an LRST doesn’t have offensive weapons?”

“No, Sir.”

“Phelps, tell him.” Yellan asked.

“Maybe, if we ain’t shooting at them, the enemy won’t destroy us as we tow away a damaged combatant. Plus, there’s only ten of us on here. We can’t manage a decent damage control party; let alone weapons.”

“But, Sir, why doesn’t the ship have automated weapons?” asked Furn. “This ship’s new generation Constructed Intelligence practically does everything, anyway. We mostly just ride along and keep watch.”

“Deliver, would you care to answer the cadet’s question?” Yellan asked into the Bridge’s air.

A deep voice answered from a speaker. “I am prohibited from operating offensive weapons by the Rules of Behavior.”

“What about defensive actions?” Furn asked.

“I am programmed to protect myself and my shipmates.” Deliver said.

“What about the XO?” Furn asked. “Is she similarly restricted?”

The holographic image of a stern looking middle-age woman shimmered into view. She wore a light gray long-sleeve Navy tunic with dark blue belted-waist and blue trousers bloused into her boots. She didn’t have a rating badge or shoulder boards. “Do you require my assistance, cadet?” the holo asked.

“XO, please outline your duties to the cadet,” Yellan said.

“I am Deliver’s General Response Artificial Neural Network avatar version 4252.9, also called a GRANNe. I function as the ship’s Executive Officer. It is my duty to monitor Deliver’s operation and ensure we complete our missions.”

“I do not require monitoring,” Deliver rumbled from a speaker.

“Pardon my choice of words, Brother,” the XO said.

“But wouldn’t being attacked prevent us from completing our missions?” Furn asked.

“Yes, it would smartass,” the holo said. “So, don’t invite any attacks by making unauthorized course changes.”

“She told you,” Phelps said, under his breath.

“I don’t understand Skipper,” Furn said. “If my course change was a bad idea, why didn’t the XO stop me and let you know?”

“It’s called training son. Sometimes we let you make mistakes,” Yellan said. “XO, how much damage did he do?”

“Cadet Furn’s actions will take us within four hundred thousand kilometers of Terne. This follows your navigational standing orders for a minimum safe transit distance from planetary bodies.”

“At least you followed that order properly,” Yellan said. “Phelps, run a radar scan of the Terne orbits.” He settled back into his chair. “Hopefully, nobody is home.”

Phelps fiddled with a display at the helm station. “Can’t see anything, Skipper. We are still a long way out spot small craft.”

“Alright, XO, you’ve got the Deck and the Conn. Cadet Furn try to learn something from the XO for the rest of your watch. I’m going to see if there are any mid-rats left.” Yellan stood and headed off the Bridge.