The Greatship by Robert Reed Page B

starships and better starships than anyone.  If they had seen the Great Ship roaming the deep cold, they would have reached it first and claimed the artifact as their prize.  But they didn’t notice the giant wanderer soon enough.  Humans did, and because of that blessing, humans achieved something that was deeply unlikely.
    This was one reason why Hoop and his people found such pleasure insulting their hosts.  “Monkey-men” was a popular barb.  “Bare-fleshed fetuses.”   And perhaps the most caustic, damning name:  “Luck-fattened souls.”
    The average human assumed that harum-scarums were embittered, jealous and probably vengeful monsters.  But the responsible captain knew better than to read too much into a little hard noise.  Once humans took legal possession of the ancient derelict—in accordance with the galaxy’s ancient laws—the Clan had finished grieving.  Ownership had been established.  A contest won was a contest done.  And if you were a good citizen of a worthy family, you turned away and carefully sharpened your spines, focusing on living your magnificent life.
    Grudges and second acts were the province of weaker species.
    Humans, for one.
     * * *
    “This makes no sense to me,” the Submaster confessed.  “You assured him that I was an important captain.”
    “Which you are,” said Washen.
    “Am I still anonymous?”
    “Absolutely, sir.”
    “Yet the creature refuses to capitulate.”
    “For the time being, but I’ll meet with him tomorrow and reach some understanding.”
    “Harum-scarums,” the Submaster muttered.  “I’ve dealt with them many times, and with much success.  Once you push past their manners and moods, they’re perfectly reasonable ogres.”
    Washen restrained a grimace.
    The man was named Ishwish.  By human measures, he was ancient and extraordinarily well traveled.  Countless stories were told about the old Submaster, yet remarkably little was defined in his public biography.  Ishwish had fought with distinction in several human wars, rising to a high rank in two militaries.  More than once he had employed alien mercenaries, including the brigades of harum-scarums who helped make his career.  Then after earning a strongbox full of medals, he retired to a quiet life, commanding colony starships during the first human expansion across the Milky Way.  Those millennia made him a wealthy man with lucrative political connections.  When the Great Ship was discovered, Ishwish expended his personal fortune, fitting a small asteroid with enormous engines and a minimal life support system and then hiring a crew to race out beyond the edges of the Milky Way.  His starship was among the first to arrive at the Great Ship.  And from that moment, Ishwish had worked tirelessly to maintain his rightful high rank among the first captains.
    The Submaster remained silent for a few moments, most likely using a nexus to examine Hoop’s files.  The eyes flickered for a moment, meaning what?  Then he sighed softly, and with a disappointed shake of the head, he said, “Frankly, I expected better things from an ambitious young captain.”
    Washen nodded as if agreeing, twisting the mirrored cap in her hands.
    “There is no task that a captain cannot achieve,” he reminded her.
    “I know this, sir.”
    Ishwish’s task of the moment was to sit alone before a large oak table, occupying the back corner of what was a very small eating establishment.  This was the favorite haunt of the Master Captain, which made it popular to all of her Submasters.  The man was exceptionally tall in his chair; Washen stood beside him, yet their eyes were nearly level.  Handsome in an ageless, heavily polished fashion, Ishwish had bright gold eyes and a sharp joyless smile, and with every word and little motion, he betrayed enough arrogance to fuel two successful captains.
    “What are little jobs?” he asked.
    “‘An impossibility of nature,’” she quoted from her