Mr. Van Atta himself had taken her aside—her!—and urged her to spy out the leak for him among her comrades. She had started to confess, stopped just in time, as his rising rage tightened her throat with fear. "I'm going to crucify the little sneak when I get my hands on him," Van Atta had snarled. Maybe Ti would not find Mr. Van Atta and Dr. Yei and all their staffs ranked together so intimidating—but she dared not risk losing her one sure source of downsider delights. Ti at least was willing to barter for what was in effect a bit of Silver's labor, the one invisible commodity not accounted for in any inventory; who knew, another pilot might want things of some kind, far more difficult to smuggle out of the Habitat unnoticed.

A long-awaited movement in the loading area caught her eye. And you thought you were risking trouble for a few books, Silver thought to herself. Wait'll this shit gets on the loose. . . .

"Thank you anyway," said Silver hastily, and grabbed Ti around the neck for a prolonged thank-you kiss. He closed his eyes—wonderful reflex, that—and Silver rolled hers toward the view out the control booth window. Tony, Claire, and Andy were just disappearing into the shuttle hatch flex tube.

There, that's it. I've done what I can—the rest is up to you. Good luck, double-luck. And more sharply, I wish I was going with you.

"Oof! Look at the time!" Ti broke off their embrace. "I've got to get this checklist completed before Captain Durrance gets back. Guess you're right about the shirt." He stuffed it unceremoniously back into his flight bag. "What do you want me to bring you next time?"

"Siggy in Airsystems Maintenance asked me if there were any more holovids in the Ninja of the Twin Stars series," Silver said promptly. "He's up to Number 7, but he's missing 4 and 5."

"Ah," said Ti. "Now, that was decent entertainment. Did you watch them yourself?"

"Yes." Silver wrinkled her nose "But I'm not sure—the people in them did such horrible things to one another—they are fiction, you say?"

"Well, yes."

"That's a relief."

"Yes, but what would you like for yourself?" he persisted. "I'm not risking reprimand to gratify Siggy, whoever he is. Siggy doesn't have your"—he sighed in remembered pleasure—"dear double-jointed hips."

Silver fanned out the three new book cards in her lower right hand. "More, please, sir."