“Fine. Then he threatens to kill me unless I have the drug turned over to him. If you take away his major bargaining point he’ll forget niceties and try something like that. And I’d give him the drug to save myself, selfish fella that I am.”

“I see.” She sighed deeply. “I apologize for the difficulty we’ve caused you, Captain Hammurabi.”

“Mal,” he said.

“All right . . . Captain Mal.” She grinned, frowned, got confused. “I can’t let you do it. Do you really know what that stuff does to people?”

“A good deal better than you, I suspect, infant.”

“Call me that again and I’ll break your arm.”

Mal smiled. “Might be you could at that. Point remains, however, that I’ve already made arrangements for the exchange to be carried out.”

“There’s no way to cancel it?” Porsupah interrupted.

“Oh, if I could get to a transceiver—say, the one on the raft that brought me—before Rose’s contact receives the drugs, it could be done. I’d consider that a very unlikely possibility, however—even if I wanted to do it, which I don’t. See, I intend not only to save my own life but yours too. Even if you don’t appear to value it too highly.”

“It remains a question of proportion, Captain,” began the Tolian philosophically. “The number of lives at stake here far exceeds three. And despite what you may think, I happen to have become quite attached to mine.”

“Right on both counts,” Kitten added.

Mal was getting a bit exasperated. This damsel-in-distress was not reacting properly at the prospect of salvation.

“Listen, you altruistic femin . . .!” he began heatedly.

She glared back at him, and seemed quite willing to shift the argument to a physical level.

Auspiciously, the door chimed. Porsupah threw them both a look that was more wilting than any words could have been, and they relaxed—somewhat. The Tolian spoke towards the door pickup.

“We can’t lock ourselves in, you know.”

The panel slid back to reveal the tall figure of Mal’s young guide. The youth carried a tray filled with a multitude of small dishes: white-brown shellfish, bread, several kinds of butter and other condiments, cinammon bark, steamed tubers, smoked snails . . .

“They called me to the kitchen,” he said as he set down the tray, “and ordered me to bring this to you.”

Porsupah and Kitten saw the flying snake at the same time. They froze.

“Don’t worry,” said Mal easily. “It seems pretty tame.”

“I know what one of those things can do,” replied Kitten as she edged over towards Mal. “Victims don’t die easily.” He resisted an impulse to put an arm around her. She might decide to break it.

The youth straightened and turned to leave, then paused and looked back at Mal.

“You’re being restrained against your will, aren’t you?”

“I’d sort of think it was obvious,” said Kitten.

“Not necessarily. His Lordship often has guests whose status is not what it seems.” He rubbed the scales at the back of his pet’s head. The snake looked up, then relaxed on the lanky shoulder.