”“Not much to tell there, Sir. We don’t have very much on board. There are a couple of shuttles that we use to move back and forth to the station, hauling passengers and cargo. We also have an antique heavy hauler. But its in need of a complete overhaul, preferably a factory refit. The shuttles could also use a solid going over. They have been used quite a bit since we hit orbit.”“What about the scouts? how many do we have?”“None.”“None? You mean we haven’t got a single scout? not even an orbital flitter?”“Oh, we do have a flitter. We use it to get around the ship’s exterior. But it’s of no use outside of our immediate orbit.”“But no scouts? No heavy haulers? How is that? isn’t that how we work in the belt?”“Not quite, Sir. You see, we contract out all of the pilots. And they bring their own craft. We supply fuel and maintenance, and they find and collect the rocks. They bring them in, we mill and refine them down. But we don’t have ships of our own.”“Ok, we hire the pilots, and they. I thought she would be okay. One more night watching her dreams to be sure, but that should do it.The doorbell rang.“My Lord?”“I’m not expec — It’s Fred and Julia. Go fetch a robe, Cindi. I’ll throw on some jeans and a t-shirt and be out in a moment.”“A robe?”“Just do it.”“Yes, My Lord,” she said with a strange smile. It was the first time she had worn clothing, well, other than the big chef’s apron, in the penthouse. Hell, in Falkirk. (No, smart-ass, the shoes and the collar and the necklace didn’t count. Oh! Right. She wore her uniform that one time too. Okay, then, the second time. Sheesh.)At the door, Cindi met her friends with a big grin and a sweeping bow, “Welcome to My Lord’s abode, Sir and Madam.”“Cor, luv, are you alright?” said Julia, embracing her immediately and tightly.A memory of last night at its worst flashed through her mind. A look of fear briefly marred her lovely face. A single tear slid down her cheek, “I am ... I’m going to be.”“Well, OI come bearing gifts.”.
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