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many have devoted their lives to trying to guess the Guild’s secrets. Among such investigators there are two conflicting schools of thought:
    That the skills of the outpilots are a side effect of their unique genetic heritage, and cannot be duplicated by other races.
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    That in fact it is some secret knowledge which makes the outships possible, and were others to discover Guera’s secrets, they could perhaps duplicate her success.
    Both are correct, of course.
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    Not that this will help them.
    GUILDMISTRESS ALMA SARAJEVO
“A Legacy of Silence”: Keynote address to the 274 th Guildmaster Conclave; Tiananmen Station
    OUTSHIP: ORION
    ... M AYDAY ... MAYDAY...
    The station was so close now that its outer surface filled the screen, the docking port a gaping black cavern just ahead of them. The inpilot trembled as he balanced controlling icons in his head, struggling to bring the freighter in line with the grappling braces. “Approach verified,” he said at last. A small triumph. Three red lights on the console before him were blinking wildly, indicating systems that had gone down, but for now it looked like he had managed to work around them. Thank God for that, the freighter’s captain mused. Otherwise they might as well kiss all their precious cargo good-bye, and their asses along with it.
    â€œClearance is ... acceptable.” The beads of sweat on the inpilot’s brow had merged into a tiny rivulet that trickled down the side of his face even as the freighter slid into dock. Too fast, too close; the captain could almost hear the screech of surfaces grinding together as the braces passed mere inches to port. There were four lights blinking now on the control panel, and according to the readout the damage for all those systems originated in the outbridge. If he turned up the sound on his sensor relay he could hear noises from within that chamber, banging and screaming and a high keening sound that might or might not be of human origin. His outpilot had gone off the deep end, that was sure. The only question was how much damage he had done in this fit of his, and how much more he would get a chance to do before his Guild got him under control.
    ... GUILD EMERGENCY IN DOCKING BAY 306 YELLOW, SUPPORT TEAM REPORT IMMEDIATELY... REPEAT, GUILD EMERGENCY IN DOCKING BAY 306 YELLOW...
    â€œWe’re in.” The inpilot leaned back with a sigh as the braces took hold; the freighter shuddered briefly as they pulled it into proper alignment with the docking seals, then was still again. He tipped back his headset, letting the cool air inside the ship dry the sweat that had pooled beneath it. “Thank God.”
    â€œYeah.” There were five lights blinking now, and God help that fucking Guild bastard if any of that meant there was permanent damage to his ship. “You feed ’em the protocols. I’m going to go find out what the hell happened down there.”
    ... MAYDAY... MAYDAY...
    The captain could hear the seals hissing as he exited the inbridge, ship’s pressure stabilizing to match that of the docking ring. At least that system was working, he thought grimly. At least his twenty-three pods of valuable merchandise had made it here in the right number of pieces, albeit they trailed out behind their lead ship like a snake with muscle spasms. It could be worse, he told himself. It could be a thousand times worse.
    He also thought: I’ll kill the Guild bastard.
    The door to the outbridge was sealed, of course; Guild pilots liked their privacy. Through it, he could hear some kind of banging, and that strange, high-pitched keening. He fumbled with the code panel set to one side, feeding it an override combination. Nothing happened. Damn! He tried another code, a secret priority combination that should have been able to override anything on the ship. Still the damned door didn’t budge. Whatever that bastard Guildsman was up to, he had locked himself in but good.
    In