Энн Маккефри: The Ship Who Won

«So will I,» Keff said softly. Plenna stepped back to stand beside Chaumel, and he smiled at her.

«Farewell, friends,» Chaumel said, assisting the tall girl down the ramp and onto his chariot. «We look forward to your return.»

«So do we,» Keff said, waving. The chair flew to a safe distance and settled down to observe the ship's takeoff.

«They do make rather a handsome couple,» Carialle said. «I'd like to paint them a big double portrait as a wedding present. Confound their combination of primrose and silver—that's going to be tricky to balance. Hmm, an amber background, perhaps cognac amber would do it.»

Keff turned and walked inside the main cabin. The airlock slid shut behind him, and he heard the groaning of the motor bringing the outer ramp up flush against the bulkhead. The brawn clapped his hands together in glee.

«Wait until we tell Simeon and the Xeno boffins about the Frog Prince and his tadpole courtiers on the Planet of Wizards,» Keff gloated, settling into his crash-couch and putting his feet up on the console. He intertwined his hands behind his head. «Ah! We will be the talk of SSS-900, and every other space station for a hundred trillion klicks!»

«I can't wait to spread the word myself,» Carialle said with satisfaction as she engaged engines and they lifted off into atmosphere. «We did it! We may be considered the screwball crew, but we're the ones that get the results in the end . . . Oh damn!»

«What's wrong?» Keff asked, sitting up, alarmed.

Carialle's Lady Fair image appeared on the screen, her face drawn into woeful lines.

«I forgot about the Inspector General!»