“Gentlemen, I have to negotiate with some champagne right now.”

“You are in debt again. Deeply so.” Tall Guy’s smile was broad but utterly without warmth. So yes, they had her confused with Claire… who was right down the hallway. Call her in? No, this was fun alone.

“We are an accountant and acting legal officer”—a bow from Fat Guy—“and we have orders to duly confiscate your ship.”

“I dug myself out with Claire’s help.” So yes, time to reveal. She gave Tall Guy a wink, just to mess with him. Tall Guy frowned. His right eye slid over, obviously checking with his data link. Now he registered who she was, and Rachel said, “Plus years of pilot jockey train—”

“Yes, ah, admirable.” Tall Guy recovered quickly. “But the mode you have chosen, individual exploration, has fallen upon sad times,” he said. “Once the worm became a toroid—”

Rachel put her hands on her hips, striking a power pose. “Look, I want to fly through that wormhole. Sure! The gadgety guys got it all screwed up, can’t get the simple sphere wormhole back, but—I’ll fly it. With Claire, my ol’ pilot buddy, maybe. Or with Fraq—he’s training with us, too. And! Second World Corp will vouch for me.” I think…

Fat Guy was still blinking, getting his self-image back in order. It took a fair amount of work for this Horseman of the Esophagus. Tall Guy smiled without a gram of humor and without invitation folded himself into a grav chair. She watched him do this, legs angling like demonstrations of the principle of the lever, and—startled—felt herself moisten. I’ve been working hard, Library and piloting, too, a loooong time.

“I believe that maneuver will fail,” Tall Guy said smoothly.

“Let’s try it, shall we?” she said phony-cheerfully.

Freeze-locking these guys was getting more attractive by the second. She was tired, still adjusting from their inflight training grav standard Mars of 0.38. Their nominals had risen to 1.4 in the trainng debacle, while gravs changed—as they did, near the wormhole. Though Moon Standard 0.17 felt great, her reflexes would be off with these two. She might just be getting a bit rickety for this line of work, though fifty-nine wasn’t all that damn far into middle age anymore. Her rebuilt body had extras galore….

For the moment, she had better use deflection while she remembered where she kept her stunner. And maybe just shut down Fat Guy, while she worked her wiles on Tall Guy? The thought intrigued. Pleasure before business—her fundamental rule, in these post-Library years.

Fat Guy murmured, “Do not presume to push us.” Getting icy now.

Okay, give them lip in return. “How come you can just walk in here?”

Fat Guy launched into a stumbling rendition of how they had used some law that said Solar Financials Policy could access property rights of those in outstanding debt, and at that point she stopped listening. These guys were dead serious. They were used to delivering trouble to people, did it for a living. They probably had other slices of bad news to serve up today.