‘No law against it,’ Trusko said.

Surt dragged out the boots, grunting as the magnetic soles caught on the decking. ‘Pockets on the side of the boots, Cap’n.’

‘There’s no law against that either.’

‘But this one’s open,’ Surt said, bending back the leathery flap. ‘And there’s glass in here, all broken and sticky. Let me . . .’

Prozor closed a hand around Surt’s stick of a wrist. ‘Careful, friend. You wouldn’t know what’s on that glass, or what’s still in that pocket.’

‘What are you saying?’ Trusko asked.

‘I ain’t sayin’ anything.’ She let that hang there for a second or two. ‘But I’ve worked with Assessors of every stripe and I’ve met some you could trust and some you couldn’t. Pretty easy for an Assessor to slip something past their own crew. Something valuable that they find in a bauble and don’t want to be sharin’ with the rest of them. ’Specially somethin’ you can slip into a pocket, when no one’s lookin’. ’

Trusko paled. ‘You’re suggesting Gathing smuggled that thing back from one of the baubles?’

‘You’d need to be the judge. I didn’t know the man.’

‘I did,’ Surt decided. ‘And I didn’t care for him much. Always acting like he was better’n the rest of us, like we were the fools for stickin’ with you, Cap’n, while he had better plans . . . no disrespect.’

‘None taken,’ Trusko answered levelly.

Drozna and Strambli were back. They had the tankard and the hydraulic fluid.

‘Now what?’ Strambli asked.

‘Take the lid off the tankard. Then squirt that fluid into it. Get it good and full.’

Strambli undid the cover on the tankard. We were weightless, but the fluid was viscous and it glooped out into the tankard in a single green blob and stayed put, quivering like a fresh dog turd.

‘Be ready with the lid.’

Prozor took the tweezered organism and forced it into the tankard, pushing it all the way in. As soon as it touched the fluid, it started squirming much more vigorously, sending out longer feelers, trying to get a grip on the tankard’s rim. Prozor rammed it down. The organism began to give off a high, keening squeal.

‘That’s so you know it’s being damaged,’ she explained. ‘Now the lid. Get it on quick and tight, Strambli. I’m pullin’ the tweezers away . . . now.’

She jerked the tweezers out, and Strambli raced to get the lid attached and tightened. The squealing was still going on, but muffled now, and tinny. Slowly it faded away to silence.

‘You just happened to know that my hydraulic fluid would kill it,’ Drozna said.